This blog, which began as a piece I started writing around the end of 2009, is meant for those who already know me. I wanted to be able to speak with my own voice, rather than to spend a lot of time and effort trying to create an appropriately beautiful and felicitous expression. I didn’t think I could do it anyway, so what you will get is my regular voice with its sometimes pompous dissertations on my favorite ideas, its sometimes self-deprecating emotional pieces and its jumping around from one thing to another without proper transitions. I have given up on the idea of “writing a book” in favor of just telling my story. Hopefully it will convey the sense of process, since it is the inner process of spiritual unfolding that interests me.

I have received some feedback from old friends who take exception to some of my characterizations of Siddha Yoga and the Buddhist teachings. I do not claim to be right - it is just my story.

I wanted to show how an apparently inexplicable set of events in an apparently inexplicable order can somehow end up with a happy outcome. I believe that the mystery of life, present always and in all things, is ever working its divine magic in our lives, however ordinary they may appear.

Monday, June 28, 2010

Chapter 8: Interdependence

No Man is an Island

One of the key concepts emphasized by the Buddhists is interdependence – the idea that all things are mutually dependent on each other and that everything is connected to everything else. I remember embracing a version of this idea in high school when we read Tennyson’s poem “Flower in the Crannied Wall.” I was transported to a vaster awareness as I read, “Flower in the crannied wall, I pluck you out of the crannies, I hold you here, root and all, in my hand, little flower – but if I could understand what you are, root and all, and all in all, I should know what God and man is.” Again when I first heard of holograms and the idea that the part contains the whole, my mind was uplifted and expanded.

Although the concept is somewhat tangential, I got the same feeling on encountering the work of Byron Katie and her definition of God as simply all that is. The title of her book Loving What Is sums it up very elegantly. It combines the compassion aspect – Loving – with the wisdom aspect – What Is. In holding all that is with love, one can never fixate on a part of the whole and leave anything out of one’s loving embrace. Using the three little words as a kind of motto, I am always led to consider all phenomena as connected to the whole.

A Philosophy of Interdependence

Once a year at the gonpa, Khentrul Rinpoche would lead a month long shedra, or philosophical school. We spent all day listening to teachings on ancient scriptures. It was often difficult because it was dry, academic, and full of polemical points, but I enjoyed Rinpoche’s presence and also being exposed to the philosophy. I was particularly impressed with the month long shedra on Nagarjuna’s Introduction to the Middle Way, an exposition on the philosophy of madhyamika prasangika.

Although it was very complex and detailed, the essence I gleaned was that reality is the union of absolute and relative reality - the union of wisdom and appearance - or in the language of Kashmir Shaivism, the union of Shiva and Shakti.

The vast majority of the text is devoted to proving that all manifest things have no absolute reality. This is done by disproving all the other positions and the then-current philosophical approaches. The many arguments are very difficult to follow and they really gave my intellect a workout. I often became impatient when they seemed dated and political. It was a stretch to find relevance to a western 21st century outlook.

The outstanding point came at the end, when the text described absolute and relative reality, saying that there is nothing to be said about relative reality, other than that it is characterized by impermanence and by interdependence. This philosophy has no argument with relative reality. It is just accepted as it is. It is real as appearance. It is as it is. As I tried this on, it felt very peaceful and full of loving acceptance.

Then, at the very end, the text quietly states that there is no separation between the two. Relative reality is a manifestation of the absolute and is thus one with it. Aha!! It seemed to me that there was a lot of argument to arrive finally at the conclusion that there is no problem. Although the process and arguments were tedious, I loved the conclusion.

In relative reality, everything is interconnected. There is no beginning or end - just changes in form and appearance. That is the nature of the phenomenal world. Things are born, are sustained and then die. There is constant change of form. It applies to humans, animals, cultures, ideas, planets, suns, solar systems, and universes. All exist in Awareness and as Awareness. From this perspective, there is no creation, no creator, no emergence of consciousness out of materiality.

While in graduate school as a teaching fellow in anthropology, I had secretly begun to harbor doubts about Darwinism as it was taught. I had begun to believe a tiny bit along the lines of creationism. As an anthropologist, this would have been considered the most outrageous heresy, so I kept it to myself. While studying Buddhist philosophy, I discovered that their ideas solved the problem.

I took the position of the middle way that things are as they are. The timelessness aspect is the absolute reality and the time-oriented or evolutionary aspect is the relative reality. My doubts about Darwinian evolution were really a yearning for a description of absolute reality, or timelessness which I had found hints of in some of the creationist ideas.

The Western Mind

As I began to focus on my own mind and attempt to hold fleeting moments of Awareness, it was much easier if I let go of the hold that concepts of history, time, culture, and science had on me. Of course, I am a westerner and have been conditioned as such. My father was a nuclear physicist and an agnostic. That conditioning is there. But it is just conditioning and is trumped by a spiritual point of view of oneness, timelessness, mystery and grace. Without denying their relative reality, I no longer feel wedded to or bound by science and materialism.

As a westerner and one who likes ideas and systems, I want to use this tendency to benefit others. This is the motivation behind this writing. I find that I am torn between the impulses to go on expounding various ideas which bubble up and the desire to speak simply and autobiographically with stories, in a more interdependent or relational way.

Interdependence with the Guru

For the most part my relationship with Baba did not seem to have much interdependence. He seemed godlike and virtually omnipotent to me, while I was a mere novice on the path. I felt a great gulf between us in many ways. This seemed appropriate since he did have enormous spiritual power and I was a beginning seeker. There was one experience I had with him, however, that seemed to turn this dynamic around.

During the second world tour, Baba had a heart attack and was hospitalized. After some time the doctors allowed him to receive visitors and some of us were taken to the hospital to visit him. On one such occasion my husband and I were ushered into Baba’s darkened hospital room. He was lying on his side, without his teeth, looking like an old grandfather.

We sat on the floor very close to him and he began saying, “Baba has no shakti now.” He went on in this vein and reached out and took my hand. As he held my hand, I had the most amazing experience. I became very large and the top of my head opened up. Into my head from above streamed a vast flow of energy. It was very bright, both white and golden. As it flowed into my head, it filled my body which became enormous in order to contain this vast energy. It flowed down my arm and through my hand out to Baba’s hand.

I was transfixed and marveled that I was helping Baba. Although I had nothing to do with it, I felt that I was a channel of grace for him. It amazed me that it could work like this. I saw that anyone could be a channel for God’s grace. Baba usually fulfilled this function, but when he felt depleted, the universe would provide him with energy to be able to fulfill his function. In addition to the radiant bliss of the energy, I also felt incredibly honored to somehow be able to be part of this amazing process.

On another occasion, Dick Mann, a devotee from the Ann Arbor ashram, shared a similar experience. It was wonderful to contemplate that Baba lived in this universe of interdependence. Lama Drimed acknowledged this interdependence when he began prostrating to his sangha after his three year retreat. He acknowledged the oneness of guru and disciple in this moving gesture.

Karmic Connection

Another aspect of interdependence that fascinated me was karmic connection. Although everything is interconnected, the way that it is interconnected is mysterious. We all have affinities and connections from the past that deeply influence our lives. For example, I knew that I had karma with the Tibetans. I had read all the books by and about Chogyam Trungpa that I could get my hands on during the 70’s and had loved them. I didn’t really understand a lot of it, but it was compelling. And then there was my connection with the Karmapa. At the first glimpse of him, I had burst into tears.

Once, just after leaving Siddha Yoga, I consulted a much touted psychic, who was a housewife in Kansas. I spoke about Baba, Gurumayi, Nityananda, and all the dramas I had been involved in. She gave me very interesting advice, and at one point in our conversation she said that Baba was doing this and that. I pointed out that Baba was dead. She said, “He’s dead?” When I assured her that he was, she responded, “Well, he’s still running everything.” This had rung true at the time.

At the end of our session, she told me that I had a lot of protection. She saw hosts of Buddhists above me. I told her they were not Buddhists, but Hindus, because I didn’t know any Buddhists. She insisted that they were Buddhists. I calmly assured her that they must be Hindus, assuming that she couldn’t tell the difference. She was most adamant that these beings above me, protecting me, were Buddhists. I completely forgot all about this until one day long after I had moved into the gonpa. She was apparently right after all.

There were many small experiences that helped me integrate my two paths. For one thing, some of the westerners had heard that the highly revered Chatral Rinpoche has once said about Baba, “He is an emanation of Tilopa.” Tilopa was an Indian siddha, the founder of the Kagyu lineage, and the guru of Naropa - who in turn was followed by Marpa, Milarepa, Gampopa and the first Karmapa.

When Rinpoche died in 2001, I had a powerful meditation dream in which he and Baba met. From a distance, Rinpoche shouted out, “I’ve heard a lot about you!” They were both beaming at each other and ended up in a big bear hug and a lot of laughter. This experience made me exceedingly happy.

I had always felt that there was a connection between Baba and the Tibetans and that I was part of it in some way. It struck me during the Karmapa’s visit to Ganeshpuri during which he performed the Black Hat ceremony in Baba’s ashram. For some reason Swamiji and I were present at a private meeting between the two great gurus. It was held at Turiya Mandir in the upper garden.

An English woman who was a Tibetan nun, Ma Bedi, translated for the Karmapa and either Professor Jain or Amma translated for Baba. I remember that Baba was very intent on asking the Karmapa about the blue pearl, a significant experience that Baba frequently spoke about. It seemed to me at the time that Baba wanted some confirmation of the importance or meaning of this mysterious phenomenon.

The other thing that struck me was the gift the Karmapa gave Baba. It was a Tibetan bell and dorje, traditional ritual implements used in sadhana practice and all rituals. Baba leaned forward with great delight and took them, in the appropriate hands, and held them. Then the two of them fell out into samadhi. There are photos of this event in which Baba is meditating still holding the bell and dorje in his lap. This was long before I heard the story of Baba being an emanation of Tilopa, but it gave me a strong intuitive feeling that there was a connection between the two of them that went way back into the past.

I could see no reason why I was present at this private meeting – except that I too was part of this tradition. Later when I moved into the gonpa, I felt somewhat uncomfortable about my Hindu roots, especially since there is a prejudice against Hinduism that I detected. Historically there had been many famous debates between adherents of the two religions. I had always heard of the Hindus besting all comers, but here I heard the opposite – how the Buddhists always won in debate.

I knew this was just politics but it made me feel that my credentials were somewhat suspect. So, I was very happy when I met Sogyal Rinpoche, author of the best-selling The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying, and he gave me a lovely affirmation. He visited the gonpa and gave a public talk at the local elementary school in Weaverville. Marilyn, an old friend of his, introduced me to him, saying, “She used to be a swami.” He looked lovingly at me and said, “She still is.”

It is All a Play

I developed great love for the Karmapa during his visit to Ganeshpuri. Later when he visited the Ann Arbor ashram, and I was his hostess, I had my first argument with Baba - over which chair the Karmapa was to be given.

There were two identical love seats which I felt would be perfect for the two of them to use during a public program outside the ashram. One was Baba’s seat in the hall and the other was in his quarters upstairs. I felt it was the right solution and so with great confidence, I went into his room and asked him if I could take the love seat for the program. He didn’t like it and told me to use another chair. I stood my ground, a novelty for me, and finally Baba grudgingly gave in.

I had heard many stories of others arguing with Baba and prevailing, so I knew it was possible, but it had never been a possibility for me before. I didn’t even feel badly about it because I felt divinely inspired. I felt that it was a kind of joke between Baba and me, a play in which he pretended to want to keep the chair in his room and then let me get it away from him. I felt that he too knew that it was the right solution.

This idea of play or lila is also part of the doctrine of interdependence. Everything and everyone plays out their karma according to their conditioning and according to circumstances. Each act, however insignificant, has an effect on the whole. At the same time that one is irrevocably intertwined with everything else, there is also free will to act and make your own mark on the whole. Such is the dynamic energy of Awareness, the Shakti of Shiva.

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Chapter 7: Compassion/The Path of the Bodhisattva

Kindness

The reverence with which Tibetan Buddhists regard compassion is supreme. Great importance is placed on it. I was told that without bodhicitta (the word used for compassion), enlightenment was impossible, whereas with bodhicitta, it was inevitable. This made a deep impression on me. I was fortunate to be with Chagdud Rinpoche who was famous for being the “motivation lama.” The motivation of benefiting all sentient beings, of offering compassion to them, was his trademark. Lama Drimed follows in his footsteps.

In the teachings I received on the path of the bodhisattva, it was pointed out at great length and in great detail that kindness to others was supremely important. It was also put into practice at the gonpa. I had never met a group of people as genuinely kind as the various Tibetans who spent time there.

Rinpoche, for example, had an open door and seemed to have infinite patience. He was capable of being fierce and upholding discipline, but the underlying feeling tone was great compassion. Lama Drimed put up with my demanding personality with patience, kindness and love. I knew that he truly wanted the very highest for me. I am enormously grateful to have such a being on my side, not only in this life but beyond.

I knew that Baba loved me and had evidence for it over and over. He was, however, not the slightest bit tolerant of my delusions. I literally spent years weeping daily for his love and attention, to no avail. This kind of personal desire and attachment was still present when I moved into the gonpa and it became focused on Lama Drimed. Again, I was a gopi, yearning for his love and attention.

At the beginning of my time there, he would meet with people once a week and I took hours and hours of his time going over my emotional baggage and my numerous insights and ideas. Instead of relaxing, I persisted in trying to get something from him to make the suffering go away for good.

He never once showed annoyance or asked me to go. Nor did he do it with any one of us. He never yelled or showed anger or displeasure with me. His presence, however, made me acutely aware of my shortcomings. They stood out in bold relief. During these long meetings I would finally realize that I had used up too much time and drag myself away. Each time after I left his presence, I felt healed, calmed, relieved of the inner burden – for a while. Over time, his kindness and compassion really had a transforming effect.

The Bodhisattva’s Vow

The ideal of the path of compassion is the bodhisattva, a being who lives only to benefit others. Once I heard the bodhisattva described as someone with a permanently broken heart. The heart is wide open to the suffering of the world. From the point of view of the ego, this sounds terrible, but the pain of the bodhisattva’s broken heart is incredibly sweet and poignant with love.

It is wonderful to imagine and evoke the buddhas and bodhisattvas of the ten directions, as described in so many of the liturgies used at the gonpa. It is said that space is filled with these compassionate beings who are ever listening, caring, and relieving suffering and to whom one can pray.

Hearing the teachings on the path of the bodhisattva brought to mind a long-forgotten experience. When I first arrived in India with my husband in 1970, before meeting Baba, we took a 10 day vipassana course with Sri Goenka in Bombay. Early one morning in one of the optional sessions, he performed a ceremony in which we took the bodhisattva vow. I remember being moved to tears by the ceremony, which brought up a feeling of deja vu and tremendous nostalgia in me. This seemed to be another mark of the karmic connection I had with this path.

Tonglen

I loved the fact that there were practices one could do to instill this attitude. Instead of spending countless hours in a kind of neurotic inner dialog, as I did in the early days of my sadhana, trying to figure out how I could get what I wanted – personal love and attention from Baba, a good position, recognition, relief from pain, liberation, etc. – the training in tonglen shifted this focus away from the incessant focus on “me.”

This practice of breathing in suffering and breathing out compassion is totally counterintuitive. Because it so profoundly goes against the purpose and energy of the ego, it is a powerful tool in undermining the ego’s sway. I found the practice of breathing in the dark and breathing out the light to be very soothing and peaceful. The ego’s practice of keeping darkness and suffering away and trying to attract all that is pleasurable does not produce a feeling of peace.

Another compassion practice, called exchanging self for others, was, however, too difficult for me at the beginning. I was resistant to the notion that one should put others above oneself. For some reason, taking in the suffering of others still allowed me to feel some self worth - that I was being good - whereas exchanging myself for others left me no ego gratification at all. It felt unattractive, wrong and even dangerous. Here I bumped up against what they call ego clinging.

So I proceeded to pray for others, to breathe in the suffering of others, but could not go the whole way of exchanging self for others as taught by Shantideva, the saint who was the acknowledged expert on the subject of bodhicitta, or compassion. However, over time and in that environment, it slowly dawned on me that I could renounce my little self, at least on the level of belief. It felt good and was in fact a relief. This was a sea change for me.

Kindness as a Path

I watched Chagdud Rinpoche and Lama Drimed intently and saw the results of their kindness and softness. They were not wimps at all, but they lacked the dynamic, energetic and very self confident quality I had not fully appreciated in Baba. There was, however, a lot to appreciate about Baba. I loved him deeply and marveled at his dynamism. The energy of his presence was intoxicating and dramatic and took one out of oneself. He was like a force of nature, a whirlwind, but as with forces of nature, there are certain contexts in which there is unease and fear. I felt more at ease and more trusting with the path of the bodhisattva.

I know that there are Tibetans who are self-centered, powerful and charismatic in the way Baba was. I am also certain that there Hindus who are as kind and “selfless” as my Buddhist teachers. I do not mean to compare the paths or the cultures, but rather to tell my own story. This is a personal story of my own development and not meant to be an indictment of anyone or anything. It is just my story. I want to be honest and tell it like it was – or more correctly, as I perceived it at the time. I did arrive at a place where I no longer had any residue of the criticisms I had felt of Baba, but I lived for a long time with rancor and resentment eating away at my heart. I do not wish this kind of suffering for anyone.

My original focus at the gonpa was dzogchen, and the teachings on the way of the bodhisattva came later. Perhaps the reason that the teaching on the bodhisattva path resonated so deeply was because I heard it in the context of studying dzogchen, the great perfection teachings of supreme wisdom.

The teaching on compassion can be approached from a non philosophical or secular point of view, as Rinpoche did in his Bodhisattva Peace Training course. It was a course designed for people in the helping professions to provide teachings and practices to help them avoid burnout. This work was inspired by Lama Shenpen, an American woman lama ordained by Rinpoche, who had been an activist and feminist but who had gotten burnt out doing this work.

When she turned to the spiritual path, she met Rinpoche and found what she needed in his teachings on motivation and compassion. She asked him to create a training for those who wanted to work with people’s suffering without getting stressed by their work. She wrote a book called Change of Heart which is a compilation of Rinpoche’s words during many Bodhisattva Peace Trainings and which was the text used in a study group which I facilitated for several years while at the gonpa. It was the experience of facilitating the study group that led me to recognize the importance of this perspective for myself.

As I immersed myself in Rinpoche’s teachings on compassion, I saw that it solved the problem of how to become good. One piece of the solution had been provided in the teachings on no self. If there were no individual self, then I didn’t have to spend any energy building it up or worrying about its concerns. But how to get away from it? The answer to this question was pointed to in the practices of motivation and compassion. There was a way to actually move beyond the morass of ego fixation.

Wisdom and Compassion

When I first moved into the gonpa, I was drawn to the dzogchen path, with its allure of "the highest secret teachings," and I came to the teachings on the bodhisattva path later. They provided the final piece of the puzzle. Each alone was not enough for me. It was the marriage of wisdom and compassion – the combining of these two aspects of the path which made it feel complete.

I loved dzogchen with its lofty view, its untrammeled non-duality, its freedom from all cultural trappings and its simplicity, and at the same time I revered the mahayana’s teachings on the bodhisattva’s compassion.

Wisdom without compassion can be dry and fruitless. Compassion without wisdom can be misguided, self-serving and also lacking in lasting benefit. The two together, which are called view and conduct, provide a complete path.

Padmasambhava, the great siddha who brought Buddhism to Tibet, famously said that one’s view should be as high as the sky while one’s conduct should be as fine as barley flour. It is not that any particular conduct is enjoined, but rather the motivation behind it. With the correct motivation - to be of benefit to beings - any activity undertaken is of benefit.

Integrating Head and Heart

The other day I heard some meditation instructions, from an Anglican priest, which said in part, “Put your mind into your heart.” It was a beautiful expression of this path of wisdom/compassion, the integration of head and heart.

When I arrived at the gonpa, I already had the essence of the dzogchen piece from Kashmir Shaivism, but I didn’t really have the compassion piece. I believed that Baba operated from compassion, that he lived to serve beings. He did not, however, formally teach a path of compassion as did the Tibetans. Receiving these teachings was like nectar, balm, much longed-for grace.

Because of my experience, I find that I like to teach meditation from both perspectives, alternating between a focus on Awareness meditation and the practice of tonglen. I also have begun teaching a variation of tonglen for one’s own suffering. This does not involve breathing in someone else’s suffering and is therefore a good way to begin. One does breathe in one’s own suffering, but then it is already there, so it is less problematic. I find that this technique is excellent for alleviating current upsets, as well as long standing traumas.

In this application, on the inbreath one allows the present suffering or contraction to be fully present in one’s being. During this part, one gives enormous space to the feeling of suffering. The attitude may be one of curiosity or hospitality. It is like inviting in a dear friend with a problem. You invite your friend to sit comfortably, offer a cup of tea and then listen to her problems with an open heart.

In the practice of tonglen for oneself, the contraction or suffering is allowed to expand, without judgment, fear or revulsion. Then on the outbreath, love and compassion are sent to this suffering in whatever form is needed - understanding, acceptance, relief, forgiveness - whatever form love takes in the situation.

This practice can lead directly into the more traditional tonglen practice in which one imagines a being or beings before you and allows their darkness and suffering to flow in on the inbreath and allows love and compassion to flow out on the outbreath.

The practice of offering compassion to others in one’s own body is very powerful. It provides one with the experience of being the source of, or channel for, divine grace. Depending on one’s perspective, it can be looked at as accessing the higher emotional center of the heart, or accessing the heart of the chosen deity - whether it be Tara, the Divine Mother, or Avalokiteshwara.

Offering One’s Virtue to Others

One often hears criticism of those who do long retreat or who spend their lives in caves, meditating. It is felt that such a life is selfish, useless and indulgent, but if the retreatants and cave dwellers are praying for humanity and dedicating the merit of their practice to the upliftment of all sentient beings, then this is beneficial work for the planet and indeed, the universe.

This brings up the idea of dedication of merit, an aspect I particularly love about the Buddhist path. At the gonpa, at the end of every practice session in the shrine room, we would all recite Chagdud Rinpoche’s prayer of dedication and aspiration in which we offered the fruits of our practice for the welfare of all sentient beings.

I was taught that unless one’s merit is sealed by offering in this way, it can be destroyed by non-virtuous activity, such as anger. Although I can’t say that I fully subscribe to the fear-inducing aspect of this teaching, I really like the idea offering one’s merit.

Chagdud Rinpoche’s dedication and aspiration prayer says, “Throughout my many lives and until this moment, whatever virtue I have accomplished, including the merit generated by this practice and all that I will ever attain, this I offer for the welfare of sentient beings.

“May sickness, war, famine and suffering be decreased for every being, while their wisdom and compassion increase in this and every future life.

“May I clearly perceive all experiences to be as insubstantial as the dream fabric of the night and instantly awaken to perceive the pure wisdom display in the arising of every phenomenon.

“May I quickly attain enlightenment in order to work ceaselessly for the liberation of all sentient beings.”

Friday, June 11, 2010

Insert After Chapter 6: Once Again Into the River

Greetings from Santa Fe

Although I had planned to post 11 chapters, one each week, something has come up which necessitates a change in the schedule. Once again I have jumped into the river and there is a new chapter in my life unfolding. I have rather suddenly decided to move back to the US, so I am inserting a piece here about that. Next week, I plan to continue posting chapters of my “what I got from the Buddhists” piece.

A few months ago, I was invited to a swami reunion to be held June 11-13 in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Swami Chetanananda graciously and generously offered to buy me a ticket and I have been planning that trip. I was to spend a few extra days in Santa Fe, then go the Bay Area to visit family and friends, finally to the gonpa for 5 days and then back to Australia. Now it seems that I will stay in the US and not return to Australia.

This change in my life course has come about, directly and indirectly, because of this blog. Although I sensed that it might bring up some shifts and surprises, I was not aware of what would arise and how it would play out. As reactions arose and things played out, the desire to have my own spiritual work came strongly to the fore. It had, of course, been in the back of my mind ever since meeting Baba and has undergone numerous permutations.

Inner Revelation

My credo has always been that one needs an outer sign. I have had inner intuitions over the decades, but never a clear cut outer sign. The recent change came, however, from an inner revelation and I knew it was time to give up looking for something outside myself to validate, confirm, or command. It was time to take full responsibility for my life and just do what I felt I had to do. It suddenly became clear that it was independent work and furthermore, that it was time to just do it.

The revelation was not the result of a thought process, but more like a whole picture descending in a flash of light. The feeling was both ecstatic and peaceful at the same time. There was a vast field of love surrounding it all and I was certain that this was a true revelation. It was clear that I would leave the Shiva Ashram and go out on my own to begin my own work. At some future point I may write more about this revelation.

I had come to Australia, as I have told many, to deal with the one relationship in my life which felt unresolved, - the relationship with Swami Shankarananda, my ex husband. This has happened. I feel at peace with this profoundly karmic relationship. There is great love between us and he is continuing to offer help for which I am very grateful. I am grateful for my time here, for his Ashram, for all the beautiful people who are members of his sangha, for Devi Ma’s motherly care, for the opportunities to begin teaching meditation and discovering my authentic voice.

There are many people in this community who have given me great love and I know that this is due in large part to Swamiji’s grace. Because he loves me, they are inclined to join in and give their love to me. I am also grateful for the various pressures he and Devi Ma applied, whether consciously or unconsciously, which have brought the issue of my place in the universe into clarity.

It has become clear that their work, which I applaud, is not my work. It is time for me to move into my own work. I envision that it will incorporate the many strands of my inexplicable spiritual path – Baba’s work, what I got from the Buddhists, Jin Shin Jyutsu, counseling, astrology, the enneagram, and maybe even NLP and hypnotherapy. Above all is the motivation to be of benefit to others on the spiritual journey.

Impermanence

I keep trying to settle down, unpack all my stuff and have a permanent home. I cringe when I write the word “permanent.” If there was one word I heard the most frequently while at the gonpa it would have to be the word “impermanence.” While I know that everything is impermanent, there is also a desire to settle and to rest. The conclusion I have come to is that every moment contains rest and peace and at the same time the dynamism of change and becoming. Every moment is the whole of life, the union of Shiva and Shakti, Wisdom and Compassion.

Part of my recent revelation is that it is time to let go of stuff. I did the practice of imagining myself leaving everything behind and being more of a wandering sadhu. As I tried this on, I saw that it is not the stuff itself I have to let go of but the attachment to it and the worry over dealing with it. It really is simple. Whatever might be useful or beneficial can stay and whatever is superfluous must go. So packing becomes a meditation.

Once again it is time to jump into the river. Although there is much in me that resonates with the mode of renunciation, there is also a strong Cancerian part that wants to feather a nest and a very cosy one at that. This reclusive crab carries a big house on her back, wherever she moves.

I have lost count of the many many moves I have made in this life. After my revelation to leave, I consulted the I Ching and got The Wanderer. Interestingly, the very first time I ever consulted the I Ching, which was on the eve of my first arrival at Baba’s Ganeshpuri ashram in March, 1971, I got the Wanderer and the Creative. It seemed auspicious at the time. And now when I got it again, almost 40 years later, it also seems auspicious.

This time I am really going into the unknown. My mind keeps moving all over a map in my head. It goes to all the places I have lived and the places where I have friends. It hovers here and there spinning possible scenarios. But it doesn’t land anywhere. Not yet. It is not the place, however, which is important, nor the convenience or inconvenience. It is not about the possibilities that may be offered. This time it is really about what I want to offer, rather than about what I might receive.

The Awakener

The decision or revelation arrived on May 14. A week and a week later at the May 22 satsang program in Australia, I was sitting in the hall and began to look at the large “shaktipat photo” of Baba which was right in my line of vision. I usually just take it for granted and don’t look at it closely. But for some reason my gaze fell on it and it began to move and come alive - just like it had the first time I saw a large photo of Baba in New Delhi in 1970 at Mohini Amma’s place.

This happened before we met Baba. My husband and I were helping Bhagawan Das get his visa renewed and had come down to Delhi from Neem Karoli Baba’s place in the mountains to ask Mohini Amma’s husband, a government official, for help. My husband, Danny Goleman and Bhagawan Das went off to the government office and I stayed back at the house. I asked her if there were someplace in her house where I could sit and read and she took me up to the roof to her satsang room. It was lovely and had a beautiful and highly charged atmosphere. I sat down on a cushion facing a large photo of Baba.

As I looked at it, it came alive and smiled at me. I was astonished. It was like the psychedelic experiences I had had before our quest in India. I knew I hadn’t had any psychedelic drugs of any kind for months, and so I was surprised at the aliveness and movement in the photograph before me. I wondered if perhaps he were my guru. It turned out that he was.

Now again, in Australia, Baba was twinkling and smiling at me. I knew he was pleased with my decision. The thought entered my mind, “He is the Awakener.” His power to awaken, to enliven the spiritual energy, was undiminished. As I continued to gaze, there was the sense of union, the certainty that he and I were one energy, one purpose though with different outer forms. I knew this had always informed my life and would continue to inform my spiritual work, however it would unfold.

I have faith in the Mother of the Universe, who in all her manifestations is my chosen deity - my ishta devata or yidam. She has always held me closely, and is always available, leading me to the next perfect place. Around Baba, and also at the Shiva Ashram, we daily chant the ancient formula “Om purnamidam purnamadah purnat, purnamudacyate purnasya purnamadaya purnameva vashishyate.” Roughly translated it affirms, “This is perfect; that is perfect. If from the perfect the perfect is taken, the perfect remains.” And it ends with peace - Om shantih, shantih, shantih – which is the fruit of the awareness of perfection.

Saturday, June 5, 2010

Chapter 6: Motivation

Benefiting Beings

This topic probably should have gone first, since it is the first thing every Tibetan teacher begins with when giving a teaching. The students are asked to set their motivation for receiving teachings, i.e., to listen to the teachings with the aspiration to use them for the welfare and upliftment of all beings.

Chagdud Rinpoche was known as the “motivation” lama. No matter what he was asked to speak about, he spoke on motivation. No matter what the announced topic of his talk, people also got teachings on motivation. I heard that students had begged him to talk about something else, but he confessed that he seemed to always want to give this message to people.

The teaching is simple: the correct motivation, the highest motivation, is to be of benefit to sentient beings. This is the motivation of the bodhisattva, the ideal of the mahayana path. Although he was a great dzogchen master, established in the highest view at all times, Chagdud Rinpoche radiated kindness and compassion. He had the same quality that the Dalai Lama has.

In my estimation, this quality speaks to the human heart more powerfully than any other. The greatest spiritual teachers and saints all have this quality. They are filled with the effulgence of divine love and have eradicated the traces of the tyranny of the small self.

Motivation and Trust

The practice of developing the motivation of compassion has far-reaching effects. In my experience those who practice this are capable of evincing a high degree of trust. I found that I was able to trust my Buddhist teachers more deeply than I had been able to trust any other people in my life – because of their total dedication to benefiting others.

My parents were very loving and were good parents in almost all ways - and they were alcoholics. Even though I was confident of my parents’ love, there was a part of their psychology which was in the sway of their addiction. I could see and feel that this was a constant motivating factor in their lives and as a result, there was some insecurity and lack of full trust.

In a similar way, I sometimes harbored suspicions about Baba’s motivations. I had doubts fostered by his personality. It seemed to me at the time that Baba had personal interests and motivations in addition to the motivation behind his spiritual work. For example, I saw that he was very interested in the numbers of people that attended his programs and also in the numbers of famous people he attracted. Was this just the motivation to serve humanity on a vast scale? I can see now that this was no doubt the case. But at the time, I had issues with it, because it didn’t match my ideals.

One story will give an example of my ideals and my concern with ordinary human feelings. For a time, Baba would give a present every day to a young boy who was the son of the president of Baba’s foundation. He was an adorable child and Baba loved him a lot. But it was painful to see all the other children watch him getting a gift day after day while none of the other kids ever seemed to get anything. I was told that this was mentioned to Baba, but it did not change.

I wondered why Baba did not know or care that others were suffering. On a personal level it was obvious that there were favorites. It is true that this outer play served the purpose of the purification of ego that always goes on around a guru. After all, it was just desire and attachment that caused their suffering, and Baba never pandered to desire and attachment. I understood this and yet at the same time I was pained at the suffering which I saw no need for. I doubted that Baba was consciously providing spiritual lessons to small children.

The Divine Mother

I used to think that my judgments of Baba reflected real flaws in his character. I no longer see it that way. He had a particular personality through which the divine manifested powerfully. In the years I lived with him and the years after this, I overcame my attachment to many aspects of my spiritual idealism. This was positive, but at the same time, there was still some demoralization and cynicism which kept my heart contracted.

In retrospect I see that I was looking for a way to manifest my divinity. I was looking for a model of how I could be and was blinded and side tracked by Baba’s powerful display, which I knew could never be my way. The problem wasn’t my divinity, but how I could manifest it.

Baba gave me a clue when he gave me the name Mother Girija, and told the swamis to call me Mother. I had had inner revelations of my deep connection with the Divine Mother. I think that I was looking for a model for this aspect of the divine. The Indian concept of ishta devata, or chosen deity (yidam in Tibetan) is a key concept in Indian spirituality. I had learned about it from stories of Sharada Devi, Ramakrishna’s wife.

She was said to be able to discern easily and quickly what the ishta devata was for any aspirant who came to her for initiation. Others had to meditate for a longer time to arrive at the correct aspect of the divine into which the aspirant should be initiated. The tradition was that the guru would initiate the aspirant into the worship of a particular deity, or aspect of the divine. This practice would eventually ripen into full identification with the divine, by using the natural propensities or qualities of the aspirant. So the form (the ishta devata) led to the formless (union with the divine) which then manifested in form (enlightened activity or conduct).

I was looking to Baba for a model of the humble and compassionate mother aspect and when I didn’t find it, I felt alienated and found fault. It was a relief to find that I didn’t have this issue at the gonpa for the most part. It appeared to me that my Buddhist teachers were very sensitive to people’s hurt feelings and would always behave in a kind and inclusive way. Although this may just have been a matter of personality, I attributed it to the discipline of holding the benefit of others as the paramount motivation. This resonated deeply with my being.

It was very interesting to watch how the lamas handled difficult people. Generally there was great acceptance and compassion but on occasion, if the negative behavior reached a level where it impacted the stability and harmony of the gonpa, steps were taken to remedy the situation. It seemed to me that the psychological states of the people involved and impacted was the main consideration.

This suited my temperament and provided a model of behavior for me. Most importantly, it allowed me to trust more deeply than I had in my life. This trust was a key to the healing that took place for me while at the gonpa. Here at the Shiva Ashram, I see that Swamiji’s emphasis on people’s emotional states and issues is very beneficial to the ashramites and community members.

How to Be Good

When I was a child, I was fascinated by the stories of saints’ lives. I babysat for a Catholic family and found books containing stories of Catholic martyrs and saints. Some of the stories were quite extreme and even gory, but I was nonetheless captivated. I remember having the despairing thought that I could never be a saint because I could never sacrifice myself in the way that they did and basically, because I could not just be good all the time.

I knew that I had a selfish heart in spite of the aspiration for it not to be that way. Later, when I read the prayer of Saint Augustine: “God grant me chastity, but not yet,” I knew how he felt. The “not yet” demonstrated the unwillingness to really be transformed. I was aware that I didn’t really want to give up my selfishness, my small self - not really and not completely.

All of the despair and praying for self improvement was still only coming from the ego. In prayers like, “I want to be good. Please make me good,” the emphasis is still on the small self, on “me.” The teachings on motivation take one out of this realm and provide a solution by shifting the emphasis onto others.

Non Virtuous Speech

I received formal teachings on motivation during the ngondro retreat I took with Lama Drimed in 1996, before moving into the gonpa. I was in an open frame of mind and the teachings on motivation sunk in very deeply. I felt happy and encouraged. It seemed as though the very next thing I heard, right on the heels of this life-altering teaching, also made a deep impression on me, but it was more like horror than joy.

It was part of the teaching on the ten negative actions to be abandoned. In addition to killing, stealing and sexual misconduct, there were four categories of speech which were deemed unworthy of a sincere seeker. They were said to create non-virtue and to be the cause of a lower rebirth, to say nothing of hampering spiritual progress.

As these were described, I recognized every single one of them as prominent features of my speech. The four were lying, sowing discord, harsh speech and worthless chatter or gossip. I was horrified when contemplating what it would mean to give these up. Was it possible? Would there be anything left?

I had always been given to exaggeration, or as I liked to think of it, poetic license. I knew that I also tried to speak in a way that would present myself in a good light. In studying our text, which was Patrul Rinpoche’s Words of My Perfect Teacher, it seemed pretty clear that this constituted lying.

Sowing discord, the next category, was not so frightening. It didn’t seem to apply to me quite so much, but I suspected that if I searched deeply, I could find that it too was a habit of my speech. I certainly remembered complaining to others about those who upset me, in the hopes that they would be on my side and think less highly of the ones who made me feel badly in any way. This was certainly a form of sowing discord rather than harmony.

Harsh speech was definitely going to be a problem to overcome. I have always been quite undiplomatic, preferring to “tell it like it is.” My judgmental nature manifested in my speech. This category included not only overtly harsh speech, but also included words that made others unhappy or uncomfortable. I saw that giving this up would take quite an effort. But still, it seemed easier than the last category of non-virtuous speech.

This category was worthless chatter and included gossip and irrelevant talk. Wow! That pretty much summed up most of what passed my lips! I had always been pretty good at small talk and social chit-chat. I loved to talk about people. I didn’t feel that it was malicious, but more a love of analyzing people and digging into what makes them tick. I also wanted to facilitate greater understanding between people. Although I was trying to move beyond judgment, I knew that my analyses were still tinged with judgment. Furthermore, I could not pretend that I didn’t know that sharing stories that people would not like told about them was hurtful.

I decided to contemplate this teaching and to move in the direction of more virtuous speech. I was helped by the fact that the residents of the gonpa and the members of the sangha who visited were all trying to do the same thing. Of course, talking about people did go on, but it was done in a slightly more conscious way. Practically speaking, this meant that it was often done with various subterfuges. One would hear such things as, “I know I shouldn’t be gossiping, but ……” or, “I really love so and so, but……”

The traditional teachings on motivation emphasize the attitude of compassion for beings, the attitude of wishing for and acting for the benefit of others. I was inspired by this general teaching, but even more inspired by the motivation to really put all of the teachings into practice. I found that I was in the midst of people who were trying to diminish their negative emotional habits and it was very moving to me.

Harmlessness

An example of how this worked for me involved the teaching on not killing. I was surprised to discover that the Buddhists did not even kill mosquitoes. I had grown up routinely killing insects. I didn’t enjoy it or do it gratuitously, but I had no qualms about slapping mosquitoes, swatting flies, or mopping up infestations of ants on the kitchen counter. This was not done at the gonpa.

We used bug wands, little vacuum devices, to capture and transport spiders and other bugs from our rooms to the outdoors. Infestations of ants were dealt with by creating “pure lands,” boxes containing grass, twigs and sugar. When the ants migrated to this, it was simply carried outside. There were also mouse traps that captured the mice alive so they could be taken out to a field and released. There was a crew who captured rattlesnakes and took them across the river to be released.

At the beginning, I felt that this was perhaps too much political correctness and began to inquire as to why it was wrong to kill small things that were dangerous or very inconvenient. I heard a lot of explanations, but the one that moved me was the idea that by making a decision not to kill or harm any being, one becomes a “harmless” rather than “harmful” being. This reduces the amount of fear in the universe. It makes you someone that others can look to for protection and refuge, rather than someone who is to be feared. On a subtle level, this is a very big energetic shift.

Taming the Mind

I decided to sign on and began to work at breaking old habits. I even let mosquitoes bite me, rejoicing in the fact that I was providing a meal for them. I discovered that if I did not scratch a mosquito bite, the itching would totally disappear in a few hours. In actual fact, it was not that difficult. The difficulty lay in my emotional habits and reactions.

Practicing not harming in this very physical way was an exercise in watching my mind, watching the fear and aversion that automatically arose when I heard a mosquito buzzing. It felt like an important victory to be able to control my mind in this very limited situation. By learning to do this small thing, I could then extend it to the larger issues of my willfulness.

To actually be of benefit to sentient beings, one must have control over one’s mind. It is a project that involves more than good intentions. As a child, reading about the Catholic saints and martyrs, I saw that it was impossible to be good just by wanting to. I couldn’t even begin to accomplish it nor could I see how it even could be done by anyone. It seemed to be impossible.

Now I was on a path that promised to show me how it could be done. I trusted this path, primarily because of its first tenet, which was motivation. Just setting my compass in the direction of bodhicitta, the attitude of compassion, gave me the feeling that all things were now possible. As a young person, dealing with my impulses had seemed an overwhelming and impossible task. Here I was learning to take baby steps. Even if I didn’t get very far in this life, at least I was moving in the right direction.

Bhakti and Compassion

I found it very interesting that the Buddhists use the word compassion instead of the word love to describe the form side. So instead of jnana (wisdom) and bhakti (devotion), they have wisdom and compassion. At the highest level, I think that love and compassion are the same thing, but at the bottom of the mountain, they manifest differently.

Around Baba, I was immersed in the world of bhakti, of intense devotion. Baba’s devotees wept, danced, bowed, reached out to touch him and sat gazing in adoration from morning to night. We also saw displays of Baba’s devotion to his guru, Bhagawan Nityananda. Baba had installed a beautiful lifelike statue (murti) of his guru and had formal worship of it done throughout the day. He would do full pranams or prostrations to this murti and also circumambulate it every day.

This was all very moving and uplifting and we were raised up out of our ordinary worldly focus. This is how the path of bhakti works. The ordinary capacity for love, admiration and adoration is focused on the divine and intensified. The goal is selfless love of and union with God.

Both the path of devotion and the path of compassion are about development of the heart, but whereas bhakti yoga is associated with emotional yearning and weeping for god, the path of compassion has practices such as tonglen, with its focus on developing compassion for others, and also the practice of exchanging self for other. Always, the focus is on others and not on oneself.

The gonpa was much less juicy than the love-drenched atmosphere of Baba’s ashram, but it also seemed to have fewer of the adverse aspects of that atmosphere. Around Baba I had experienced god-intoxicated bhaktas – passionate devotees - who would think nothing of pushing and shoving their fellow seekers out of the way to get closer to the object of their devotion.

In all fairness I also found this at the gonpa, but usually the Buddhists were much “nicer.” They had been instructed from day one in the six paramitas or virtues and were committed, to some extent at least, to forswear anger, desire, jealousy, greed, and pride.

I did miss the chanting and other aspects of the path of bhakti or devotion which are rich and full of joy. Chanting is one of the things I love about the Shiva Ashram. Still, in spite of the bliss of chanting, it hadn’t led me to a transcendental level. It had not taken me beyond the little me, screaming inside for satisfaction. I was still brought down by my ego, like the gopi who, when she finally had Lord Krishna in her arms, began to pride herself on her accomplishment. In that instant the Lord fled from her embrace.

I was uplifted by the emphasis on the other, which seemed to me to offer a way beyond the selfish concerns of ordinary love, which had always been connected, in my case, with wanting, desiring, and striving. The focus on motivation seemed to diminish this pitfall.

Although the tantric maelstrom of Baba’s ashram served me well, it also went against my grain from time to time. I wanted a model that felt like one I could reasonably and easily aspire to, one that displayed itself in a kinder, more humble and apparently caring fashion.

The Tibetan Connection

This desire came up for the first time when the Karmapa visited Baba in Ganeshpuri in the early 70’s. When I first laid eyes on him as he stepped through the front gate, without knowing who he was, I burst into tears. This was so unexpected and embarrassing that I fled to the bookstore and closed the door.

I felt enormously guilty when, during his visit, I had the thought, “I wish he were my guru.” I hoped Baba would not hear this thought as I gazed at the Karmapa with a kind of longing. I admired his humility, his apparent lack of ego, his lack of bluster, his kindness and calm demeanor. I certainly loved Baba enormously, but somehow there was an attraction to this Tibetan.

Baba spoke highly of the Karmapa in Ganeshpuri, and in fact paid him a rare compliment. He was usually very strict about spiritual promiscuity. He did not approve of guru-hopping and encouraged his disciples to focus on one guru. Because of this atmosphere, one of the young boys who was serving the Karmapa was alarmed when the Karmapa gave him a mantra.

He ran to Baba in a panic and told him that the Karmapa had given him a mantra. Baba reassured the boy saying, “That is his nature. It is OK. It is just who he is.” It was clear that Baba had high regard for this smiling Tibetan.

Later in Ann Arbor, when he visited for the opening of the Ann Arbor ashram, Baba pointed out to a few of us gathered in his room that the Karmapa was fat and could not keep up with him on their walk. There was no malice in it, but still I did not like it. It seemed like bragging and there was a hint of competitiveness which rubbed me the wrong way.

I now chalk this up to nothing more than a quirk of personality. I no longer feel critical of Baba as I once had. None of the judgment that I burned with seems to remain. I also don’t believe that the way of humility is superior. I just like it better. It is a quality which allowed me to develop trust, which I needed to develop my own being.

I was delighted to meet Chagdud Rinpoche and many other Tibetans. As a culture they are - for the most part - humble, kind, and calm. One would not expect to see them bragging or showing off, which would be considered bad form. During my first meeting with Rinpoche at his gonpa, I told him that I would like him to be my teacher. His response was, “I very bad teacher.” I was so shocked that I blurted out, “Oh don’t say that!” It was so antithetical to my concept of the guru.

I was also charmed by the fact that the Tibetans all claim to be without attainment. The Dalai Lama, for example, refers to himself as a simple monk. This is not to say that all the Tibetans I met were enlightened and had no egos. I met some who displayed the poisons of the mind, who appeared arrogant or competitive, but overall the culture was more to my liking. I attribute this in large part to the teachings on motivation with its focus on compassion.

In the early day at the gonpa, when confronted with what I deemed to be arrogance and pride in a highly placed person, I would share my views with others and would be frustrated by their calm reactions. They would express compassion for the person instead of outrage, which is what I felt. It wasn’t that they disagreed with my analysis of the situation, but they had a totally different attitude. I wondered if I could ever feel as they did.

Even before going to India and meeting Baba, I had felt that my task as a seeker was to somehow become egoless. Except for the few short-lived experiences in which it was lifted away, I could not get away from the sense of “me” which looked for its own gratification. There were no specific practices that promised to lead to the eradication of this troubling samsaric being which seemed to be inseparable from myself. I eventually found help in this endeavor in the teachings on motivation and compassion, which focus on others and not on the personal self.

Refuge and Bodhicitta

The practices of taking refuge and generating bodhicitta are the first two practices of the ngondro, which I began the day after visiting the gonpa and having a meeting with Rinpoche. One takes refuge in the buddha, the dharma and the sangha. Although this was explained quite beautifully, it did not really impact me greatly. With Baba, I had already taken refuge in the guru, in the spiritual path, in the spiritual teachings and in the divine. For these reasons, taking refuge didn’t seem like something essentially different or new to me.

However, the generation of bodhicitta, the mind or attitude of compassion, was quite different. I had never heard of generating this motivation consciously as a practice. It made sense. Why not wish for ordinary and ultimate happiness for all sentient beings? It was obvious to me that one wanted the very best for all of those one loved and felt connected to. It was also obvious to me that this “very best” had to be enlightenment, or at the very least, access to divine grace.

I recently read the last Harry Potter book and was struck by the fact that, at the end, it was the quality of Harry’s motivation – specifically the motivation to help and support those he loved – that made all the difference. It is a beautiful and modern story of the bodhisattva.