The Collected Works of Chögyam Trungpa: Volume 4 (20 page)

A sense of nonexistence or egolessness is the essential background for understanding the difference between nontheistic and theistic traditions. In comparing theism and nontheism we are not arguing about the existence of God, but about whether the
perceiver
of God exists or not. Having understood very clearly and precisely that the perceiver does not exist, we therefore conclude that God does not exist either. In the tantric tradition continuity has nothing to do with divine providence, since the notion of divinity has already been discarded. The continuity of tantra is simply the sense of path or journey, which takes place constantly. This journey is by no means an illusion. It is a real journey, a journey that takes place on the planet Earth in this particular solar system, in this particular country, for that matter.

When we refer to a journey, it seems to be quite clear that we are not talking about struggle or ambition. On the other hand, maybe we
are
talking in terms of struggle and ambition: ambition in the sense that we are inspired into the nowness, this very moment; and struggle in that a sense of exertion or discipline in the practice is necessary. This seems to be a contradiction. On the one hand we are talking about nonbeing, no world, nonexistence; and on the other hand we are discussing the process of the path, how we could proceed along a path and exert ourselves. Isn’t there a hole in our logic? If we split hairs in that way, there is no truth anywhere, none whatsoever. Let it just be that way; let us have contradictions.

At the same time, let us be suspicious of the nature of the path. That is great; that is precisely what is needed. We should not become so gullible that if we are asked to lick our teacher’s bottom we are willing to do so. That becomes somewhat ugly and too gullible. It is good that we have questions in our mind, that we have such suspicion and such unyielding pride. Such suspicion is required for the study of tantra in particular, as well as for studying the rest of the Buddhist teachings. We are not asked to take anything at its word.

For the tantric practitioner the point is that a sense of journey takes place. Whether the journey is regarded as a hypothetical journey, a cynical journey, or an actual spiritual journey, some kind of journey is taking place continually, and we have to acknowledge it. It might seem that our own journey is a backward journey; we might feel that we started with a point of reference in which we had confidence but that now we find ourselves quite uncertain. Or we may be uncertain whether we are going forward or backward.

In tantra, it is necessary to have pride that we are taking a journey; it does not really matter whether it is a forward or a backward journey. A journey is actually taking place—that is what counts. It is like aging. We know that we are getting physically older all the time. We might find ourselves becoming infantile psychologically, but in that case, we are an old person being infantile rather than actually a baby. We know that we are getting physically older as long as we have a body. We are developing gray hair, we are becoming somewhat inaccurate in our physical behavior, our sight is becoming blurry, our speech is becoming slightly old-fashioned, our hearing system is degenerating slightly, and our taste in food and our interest in excitement or entertainment is becoming somewhat numb and dulled. We are getting old. Whether we regard that as going backward, becoming infantile, or going forward, approaching our death, something is happening to us. We could consider that process of aging as a metaphor for the spiritual journey. Whether we like it or not, we
are
moving forward.

When we become a Buddhist, we become a refugee: We take the refuge now and commit ourselves to the Buddhist path. We make the preliminary decision to call ourselves Buddhists. After that we slowly begin to develop the confidence that we are not only working on ourselves but that we can also work with others. Then we take another vow, called the bodhisattva vow. As we proceed further, we are ready to take tantric transmission, or abhisheka. We are still making a journey. We might feel that we are going backward or forward—but that is simply the play of emotions. If we feel we are becoming infantile, we are learning; if we think we are an insignificant old man, we are still learning. A learning process takes place constantly, throughout the whole path.

It would be very difficult to go through each of the tantric yanas in detail since many of you are beginning practitioners. So I would like to take a more general approach in discussing the tantric journey. We could discuss the beginning, the middle, and the end of the path, that is, kriyayoga, the first yana; anuttaratantra, the culmination of the first three; and atiyana, the final yana. The main point is that the same psychological attitude permeates all the tantric yanas, the same continuity based on the nonexistence of ego. There is a continual sense of journey throughout the path. We have developed a sense of egolessness at the hinayana level, we have understood the compassionate activities that might take place at the mahayana level, and now we are approaching the vajrayana level. There is the continuity of an inspired student who is well-disciplined, highly inspired by working with others, and who now is coming to grips with reality properly and thoroughly.

The first tantric yana is kriyayoga.
Kriya
literally means “action,” so kriyayoga is the yoga of action. The basic approach of kriyayoga is that of purity or cleanliness, which in this case means understanding reality from the sharpest possible perspective, the clearest possible point of view. In order to see the vajra world or the tantric world properly, thoroughly, and clearly, we have to see it in a highly purified way. Otherwise, rather than creating the clear vision of kriyayoga, we will begin to fixate on spots of dirt all over the place. Actions such as vegetarianism, taking baths frequently, and leading a very pure life are recommended in kriyayoga, but they are by no means “trips,” because before we begin such actions we already have been trained. We already have been educated in the hinayana and mahayana. Therefore we are able to practice the disciplines of kriyayoga properly. We are not just presented with kriyayoga suddenly out of nowhere, as though our mother decided to wean us by abruptly taking away her nipples.

One of the basic notions of kriyayoga is that there is both purity and dirt in emotions. Initially, emotions occur in a spontaneous way. Then we interpret those spontaneous emotions to our own advantage. Having done so, we begin to possess our emotions as territory: We have our logic and our arguments, and other people’s interpretations seem illogical or unreasonable. We feel that our emotional approach is accurate because we
feel
it; we feel that we are experiencing our emotions properly and thoroughly. So we begin to take pride in our emotions, and finally we begin to find ourselves so righteous that it is upsetting. We are extraordinarily passionate, proud, jealous, and justified because we have worked out our logic completely. But that process is problematic. At the beginner’s level, we experience pure emotion; but then we dilute it; we try to control it. In the end, we find ourselves swimming in a pool of sewage, which is extraordinarily irritating, to say the least, and somewhat hellish, in fact.

The
Vajramala
, a text on kriyayoga, talks a great deal about working with the emotions. According to the
Vajramala
and its commentaries, kriyayoga separates emotions into two types: pure and impure. Pure emotion, which is the original flash of instantaneous experience, could be called wisdom, which is
jnana
in Sanskrit or
yeshe
(
ye shes
) in Tibetan. With that first flash, we experience emotions properly and thoroughly, without preconceptions. At that level, emotion is insight. Then, as our emotions begin to deteriorate, as we begin to dilute them, they become ordinary passion, ordinary aggression, and ordinary ignorance. At that point they are regarded as dirt or impurity.

There is a definite division of experience into black and white in kriyayoga. The first impulse is regarded as purity, the true experience of reality in its fullest sense. Then we begin to water it down and mask that experience with all kinds of interpretations in an attempt to possess it. In doing so, the emotion becomes a confused one. So there is direct experience and there is a neurotic overlay, both happening at once. That original purity is vajra nature, which is inherently pure and cannot be contaminated—it cannot be destroyed
at all
. It is fundamental toughness. The moon might be behind a cloud, but the moon in itself is still pure. The cloud is the problem—if we sweep away the cloud the moon is sure to be a good moon.

One should see the neuroses clearly, look at them and study them, and finally flush them down the toilet. The way to do that is through various purification ceremonies and visualization practices. Purification in kriyayoga is a very personal experience, but solving our neurotic problems is not the point at all. Purification is learning to relate with the problems. Does a problem exist or not? Is the problem a problem, or is the problem a promise? We are not talking about how to get rid of problems or impurities here, as though we were suddenly surrounded by piles of garbage that we want to clean up. That is not the point. The point is to discover the quality of garbageness. Before we dispose of our garbage, first we have to examine it. If we approached purification as simply trying to get rid of our garbage, we would do a great job of emitting spiritual pollution into the atmosphere.

Having related with our garbage, the question of how we can purify ourselves is a question of surrendering. But all kinds of tricks are possible in this approach as well. We might say, “If I accept the whole thing and regard it as no big deal, then will I be free of any problems?” Those little tricks of ego, overlapping tricks of all kinds, go on constantly. The idea is to surrender completely.

The visualizations of kriyayoga are highly developed. They are very transparent visualizations, rather than simply imagining that we are a great guy or thinking of ourselves as a good person. In kriyayoga, visualization is identifying with our inherently pure psychological state of being, the part of us that is inherently innocent. The deities are visualized in the name of our innocence—or through the experience of our innocence. That innocent quality or pure aspect of our being is seen as a deity, as the embodiment of living enlightenment.

So kriyayoga’s approach to life is segregation: certain parts of our life are good and pure, and certain parts of our life and our experience are impure, that is, diluted and contaminated by egocentricity. In kriyayoga we take the attitude that we are going to experience things very clearly and properly. We are not purely trying to relate with some abstract divinity or deity, but we are willing to relate with real experience.

EVAM
.
The personal seal of Chögyam Trungpa and the Trungpa tulkus (see chapter 14)
.

DESIGN BY MOLLY K. NUDELL.

FOURTEEN

Anuttarayoga

T
HE FIRST THREE
tantric yanas, kriyayoga yana, upayoga yana, and yoga yana, are called “lower tantra.” And the last three tantric yanas, mahayana yana, anuyoga yana, and atiyoga yana, are called “higher tantra.” Anuttarayoga brings together the teachings of the lower tantra. It is usually not regarded as a separate yana but as the culmination of the first three. In some ways it acts as a bridge between the lower tantra and the higher tantra. The word
anuttara
—in Tibetan,
la-me
(
bla med
)—literally means “nothing higher.” As far as the lower tantras are concerned, anuttara is the highest tantric achievement. Many tantric practices, such as Kalachakra, Chakrasamvara, and Guhyasamaja, are based on anuttarayoga.

Earlier we discussed the principles of body, speech, and mind. It is through body, speech, and mind that we relate with the phenomenal world. Such a relationship is not necessarily spiritual; it is physical, bodily. It is a question of being a person of sanity, a person of openness. In fact, we could almost approach the whole path in a secular way and call it the nontheistic discipline of developing sanity and openness, rather than regarding it as purely a religious tradition.

In anuttarayoga, there is particular emphasis on speech. Speech is not only voice or verbal description, but any speechlike experience that brings a sense of rhythm or movement. In other words, it is energy or circulation rather than sound alone. We are not using speech here in the narrow sense, but we are speaking of speechlike situations, any interchange that exists, related with hearing, seeing, smelling, and the general sensory system of the body. As the basic communication that takes place in human society, speech is not limited to newspapers, television, and radio shows. More basically, it is a link between us and our body, a link between us and our mind. As such, speech brings mind to the cognitive level and body to the energetic level. Such a link, either with the mind or with the body, takes place constantly. That kind of movement and energy is speech.