Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche's Shambhala Day Address
From 1986: Year of the Fire Tiger
Jump The Gun
Trungpa Rinpoche's "Jump The Gun" address was given 24 years ago (February 1986) on Shambhala Day morning, year of the Fire Tiger. This is the only address that Rinpoche gave for a tiger year. It was also the last Shambhala Day address that he gave.
Shambhala Day/Losar talks for the Iron Tiger year.
Please send your comments, poems, songs, and offerings to
Centennial Celebration in Kathmandu starts February 20
2010 marks the hundredth anniversary of the birth of Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche (1910–1991), one of the most remarkable spiritual teachers of our time. To mark this special occasion, there will be ongoing activities celebrating his life and accomplishments. Dilgo Khyentse Yangsi Rinpoche, his tulku or reincarnation, will give teachings and empowerments, and preside over the ceremonies and offerings in Asia and abroad. Visit the Chronicles Dilgo Khyentse Yangsi Rinpoche page for updates and schedule information.
Pilgrimage Blog
Many students of Trungpa Rinpoche will be attending the centennial celebration for Dilgo Khyentse. Among them will be Carolyn Gimian. Stay in touch with events at Shechen Monastary through Carolyn's Blog. Here is her first post:
February 13:
Tomorrow is the Tibetan New Year. Tashi Deleg! It is also the day our family sets off on a trip to India and Nepal for three weeks. We have been telling people and each other that this is a form of pilgrimage for us. -continue
Touch and Go: Part Two
A documentary by Grant MacLean
Fifty years ago, Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche led hundreds of Tibetans as they attempted to flee their homeland.
Blending the narrative of Born in Tibet with images from Google Earth and Flight Simulator, Grant MacLean is producing a documentary of this epic journey. Parts one and two are now online. Part three, the final chapter, is still in production.
For more on this extraordinary project, including how you can help, visit Touch and Go.
For Valentine's Day
Trungpa Rinpoche on desolation, relationships, and loneliness as consort
Reprinted from the Chronicles edition of February 14, 2007
Student: I'd like to ask a question about loneliness and love. In my
experience, the kind of love where two people try to be together in
order to protect themselves from loneliness hasn't worked out too well.
When you come in contact with loneliness, it seems to destroy a lot of
things you try to pull off in trying to build up security. But can there
be love between two people while they continue to try to work with the
loneliness?
Trungpa Rinpoche: That's an interesting question. I don't think anybody
can fall in love unless they feel lonely. People can't fall in love
unless they know they are lonely and are separate individuals. If by
some strange misunderstanding, you think you are the other person
already, then there's no one for you to fall in love with. It doesn't
work that way. The whole idea of union is that of two being together.
One and one together make union. If there's just one, you can't call
that union. Zero is not union, one is not union, but two is union. So I
think in love it is the desolateness that inspires the warmth. The more
you feel a sense of desolation, the more warmth you feel at the same
time. You can't feel the warmth of the house unless it's cold outside.
The colder it is outside, the cozier it is at home.
S: What would be the difference between the relationship between lovers and the general relationship you have with the sangha as a whole, which is a whole bunch of people feeling desolateness to different degrees?
TR: The two people have a similarity in their type of loneliness. One
particular person reminds another more of his or her own loneliness. You
feel that your partner, in seeing you, feels more lonely. Whereas with
the sangha, it's more a matter of equal shares. There's all-pervasive
loneliness, ubiquitous loneliness, happening all over the place.
Student: Would you say that loneliness is love?
Trungpa Rinpoche: I think we could say that.
From THE PATH IS THE GOAL by Chogyam Trungpa.
(c) 1995 by Diana J. Mukpo. Published by arrangement with Shambhala Publications, Inc.,
Boston. www.shambhala.com.
* * *
Student: Yesterday we were talking about love and relationships. In
terms of Buddhism, what is the validity of having a relationship with
one person if falling in love just comes from loneliness? Is the
validity of such a relationship just another illusion?
Trungpa Rinpoche: Well, illusion is not supposed to be looked down upon.
In any case, everything's illusion, so you can't say this is /just/ an
illusion, therefore it does not have enough worth. When you have a very
close relationship with a person such as your mate, your husband or
wife, that person becomes the spokesman for the rest of the sangha. When
you live with somebody long enough, there is intense irritation and
intense warmth. Often you regard each other as being very cute and
sweet, but sometimes as a living devil or devilette. There are a lot of
unexplored areas of experience, and you only get to use your microscope
with your mate. With others there's no time to use it. Nobody else will
sit there and let themselves be scrutinized and take the trouble to
scrutinize you. Only your mate will put up with that, which is a very
generous thing, fantastic. So in that way, your mate becomes a spokesman
for the rest of the world. That seems to be a very important part of
one's life. You can't just shake it off or take it lightly.
From THE PATH IS THE GOAL by Chogyam Trungpa.
(c) 1995 by Diana J. Mukpo. Published by arrangement with Shambhala Publications, Inc.,
Boston. www.shambhala.com.
* * *
Student: What about this free passion? It is certainly going to operate
with more than one person, and that leads to trouble, doesn't it? Say
you're married and you are attracted to somebody else, then what?
Rinpoche: I don't think that is really free passion at all. It is a
reaction against something that makes you feel attracted to someone
else. Because you married, you are stuck together, and therefore you
psychologically begin to feel an anarchist attitude. I don't think that
is free at all. It is a kind of dissatisfaction, that the relationship
is not right -- and the sooner the relationship could be reconciled the
better. You see, /free/ is a very interesting word. It could be
"free-free" or it could be "free-wild."
S: Could you talk a little more about what you mean by "free-free" and
"free-wild"?
R: Well, "free-free" is that you are free not because you have been
freed by somebody else, but because you discover that you can do what
you like -- you discover that you have the space to move about.
"Free-wild" is that you begin to feel you have managed to snatch freedom
from somewhere else; it is reacting against imprisonment.
Then, instead of creating space, you automatically tend to fill up the
space by all sorts of other things. It becomes wild because it is like
an echo -- once you shout more, the sound will come back to you more as
well. It is that kind of continual creation of your own spider's web. It
becomes wild at the end: it has to be wild because it is frantic. It is
wild in the sense of neurotic. Immediately when you realize you've got
freedom in the "free-wild" sense, you begin to shout, you begin to fill
the whole of space. And the sound comes back to you. You shout more and
more until finally the whole thing becomes complete chaos. You are
creating your own imprisonment under the pretense of freedom. So it is a
question of space or not.
From the SHAMBHALA SUN, as
reprinted in THE COLLECTED WORKS OF CHOGYAM TRUNGPA Vol 2. (c) 1995
by Diana J. Mukpo. Published by arrangement with Shambhala Publications, Inc.,
Boston. www.shambhala.com.
* * *
Student: Could you say something about celibacy and the emphasis on the
practice of celibacy in so many traditions?
R: As I said in the beginning of the talk, celibacy is one way of
dealing with desire. In the case of celibacy, you don't try to suppress
desire at all, but you try to examine the mental aspect of passion and
you try to see the chaotic quality of its physical application.
I don't know about Christianity, but certainly in the Buddhist tradition
you are not trying to suppress any kind of desire that comes into your
mind. Instead you are supposed to look at it, become familiar with it.
Then it automatically wears out. When you realize the physical
application purely as an extension of that desire, you see the childish
quality of it. But you still have to make communication; the
communicative quality has to continue. You have to channel your energy
into the communication process, which automatically simplifies life.
The basic monastic tradition, as a whole, is not based purely on
suppression or ascetic practice at all. It is based on simplification,
simplicity, the simplicity of life, the simplicity of non-involvement,
the simplicity of being alone. There's a great deal of emphasis made on
the physical, geographical relationship with situations, which is a
basic kind of thing. Therefore, when any mental desire or passion comes
up, you have to work with it. You have to become familiar with it first,
then you begin to see the simplicity of the aloneness, the loneliness.
That quality of loneliness provides a kind of consort, or company. The
loneliness is company, and it begins to inspire as the feminine
principle your active desires, whatever you have in mind. Therefore, in
the Buddhist tradition, people who are in the celibate or monastic life
must continue to practice the discipline of yoga. Mentally, they must go
through it.
From the SHAMBHALA SUN, as
reprinted in THE COLLECTED WORKS OF CHOGYAM TRUNGPA Vol 2. (c) 1995
by Diana J. Mukpo. Published by arrangement with Shambhala Publications, Inc.,
Boston. www.shambhala.com.
A Year's Retreat
With Sakyong Mipham in retreat, the Chronicles offers Chogyam Trungpa's Famous Last Words, the talk which he gave to the Boulder sangha in 1977 before entering his first year long retreat in North America, in Charlemont, Massachusetts.
It is personally very important to me to let everybody know what mistakes we have made in the past, and what achievements we have accomplished. On the whole, needless to say, what we have done has been worthwhile. Vajradhatu has become an absolutely worthy cause, and we ourselves have become worthy as individuals. In the early days when we were just establishing the buddhist vision in the Western world, we began at the beginning and tried to go very slowly, extremely slowly. We started on the basic concepts of vajrayana disguised as hinayana, and worked with the simplicity of sitting practice, the painfulness of it, and all the rest. That has become the fundamental basis of our community's sanity, so that nowadays the visiting teachers and visiting critics, including His Holiness Karmapa, have begun to feel that something is actually cooking here, something is actually happening.
I have been working with you people all this time and have a relationship with each one of you. Sometimes I feel unhappy because you indulge your own personal trips so much. But in spite of that little pain, that little bit of dissatisfaction with you as students, I regard those problems as part of our growing pains, part of our labor pains, and I have never given up on anyone of you at all.
I have taken each one of you to my heart as a good friend, good student, and good buddhist. You have practiced meditation, you have taken refuge vows and bodhisattva vows, and everything we have done together has proved to be magnificent. At this point His Holiness and the other visiting teachers have begun to trust us--both the teacher and the students--so much that, we could almost begin to feel somewhat nervous. They have begun to feel that these students and this teacher can't do anything wrong at all. They have given their complete, full trust and compliments to everyone of us, from the ones with the littlest duty up to the ones with the biggest duty. Actually, they have more than acknowledged us: they have included us as part of their vision of the expansion of dharma, as part of the Lord Buddha's inspiration. It is a very moving experience for all of us.
At this point His Holiness and the other visiting teachers have begun to trust us--both the teacher and the students--so much that, we could almost begin to feel somewhat nervous.
A lot of you probably still have some sense of discomfort. I don't particularly mean that you are apprehensive of becoming crazy, but you still have some little personal problems that you wish you could push away. You would like to push your little pain off somewhere, and achieve an ideal state of being. But, as we know, that is impossible. We still have to work much harder--very hard, extremely hard. We have just now established what we could call buddhist sanity, which exists and is practiced by the American students. We have just begun that, and that beginning is extraordinarily dramatic and powerful. To some people it is very frightening; to others, it is highly inspiring. And we have done it, we have manifested it--so that at this point everyone of you sitting here has no hesitation or difficulty in sitting on your zafu--I hope.
This is a genuine world that the Americans--or the Westerners, shall we say, the occidental people--have never witnessed. We have proved that it is possible to have a close to ideal society where everything--sanity and neurosis--can be included in one big mind, where people can actually practice, work, study, and be disciplined. We have actually become clean, good, impressive, and elegant, in all senses of the word--both physically and psychologically. And from that point of view, my appreciation of you people is enormous, extraordinary.
You have made me younger. You have extended my life dozens of years at least. It is your doing. In fact, you have affected His Holiness, himself--now he can relax; he no longer has to hold himself so tightly. There were a lot of differences between His Holiness' first visit and his recent one, which is a remarkable sign. It shows that he has begun to realize that the smoothness and dignity of his Tibetan world have finally clicked completely, without even second thoughts, in the world of the American students of buddhism. He is very happy and has great confidence in all of us, that is to say, both in you as students as well as
in me as the teacher.
We have achieved what we wanted to achieve. In fact, we are slightly ahead of our plan. If you talk to one of our students and watch his or her neurosis, at that point you have the feeling that this project is going to take a hundred years. [Laughter.] But all the same, it has been taking only a very short time. You have demonstrated your devotion, your sense of elegance, and your inspiration magnificently, and we have a very good relationship with each other, an extremely good one. But our relationship should be adorned with formality at the same time. By formality I am not talking about stuffy red tape anymore; I am referring to a naturally arising situation. When something is precious, it should be cherished, rather than handed around casually. You, as students, are as precious to me as I, the teacher, am to you. So we should maintain that kind of crystal clear preciousness of each other, we should maintain our formality. So far, it's an ideal world (laughs). But you might say there is something tricky about that. A lot of you people have to sit more and psychologize less-don't you think so? [Laughter.]
We have almost achieved what's known as the vajra world. We have achieved at least 60 percent of it, and now we should actually go beyond that. We should achieve 200 percent of it! Even 100 percent is not good enough; it's just not good enough. It seems that our community members, everyone of them, are getting younger, more cheerful, and very mystically, becoming tough at the same time. That is a very good sign. But we still have to work harder. That doesn't necessarily mean that we are still infants; I think we have reached the teenage level. But still we have to reach the late teenage level. This point is quite dangerous in some sense. We are already energized, full of inspiration and wakefulness of some kind, but we still have to learn how to be more solid and more inspired. We still have to look further, much further.
As we know already, there are three things that we can do, or that are demanded of us in some sense, since we have no choice. The first thing we must do is make our practice of sitting meditation very definite and very real--more real. Please don't regard yourself as bad boys or as bad girls for having not sat in these past few weeks while His Holiness was here--but basically we have to build up our general sense of practice, our actual sitting practice itself. That is very important. Without that, we lose contact; our communication breaks down. We begin to find that although we are already on the way somewhere, we do not know where we are going. So sitting practice of meditation is very important. Within this community setup, we have established a lot of strategies to make ourselves sit more. There are all sorts of forms: we have weekthuns, dathuns, and regular nyinthun practices of all kinds. These are very important and I would like to stress them a great deal. They are very important.
The second thing we must do is pay attention to our livelihood. I'm sure a lot of you who are members have heard this before, but I would like to reiterate. Livelihood involves the question of economy and the maintenance of this facility. It means maintaining our lives so that we have some economic relationship with our hamburger, our cup of coffee--and with the paying of our dues. It involves the community's attitude toward our mutual project, which has been working very successfully. Our livelihood, or life situation, is not so much of a dream or a dance anymore; our life is serious work. At the same time, of course, that very serious work is based on some kind of cheerfulness and sense of humor. So we must sit and practice, and relate with our life.
That is our next plan--to send all of you out to teach, every one of you. You have to teach people to sit, teach people not to think so much, teach people to think a lot, and all the rest of it.
The dollar is not regarded as a dirty joke at all--at least in our community. Here the dollar is regarded as a source of celebration. Of course, we don't actually handle our dollar properly, since it says on the dollar bill, "In God we trust," which we don't. [Laughter.] But still, we trust in something. In other words, we actually have to make the dollar into nontheistic money. So far, the old American approach to the dollar has been very theistic. Money has generally been regarded as a divine grant from heaven, and we have all gone along with that and paid each other from that spotlight of cash coming from the divine world. In this case, however, a dollar is just a dollar. Although the currency actually consists of gold and silver (if we have any at all in the Reserve Bank of America, which we don't know--but we have no need to explore that particular logic), to us it is simply green energy. It is very simple. On one side of the dollar bill is the symbol of an American eagle, which is the theistic version of a garuda. [Laughter.] On the other side are national leaders of all kinds, who somewhat roughly represent the lineage figures. So on the whole, the dollar is not dirty. If you feel the dollar is dirty, you should send it to the dry cleaner's. Money is a simple situation that represents life, strength and lineage or heritage of all kinds. It is very simple and very direct.
The third situation that community people should work on is study, which is very important. If you don't study enough--and practice enough at the same time--you will just be slowly rotting in the Vajradhatu world. If you don't understand what the teaching is all about, if you don't understand the basic logic of the teaching, you'll slowly rot. Not only that, but you acutally have a further duty to transmit what you have understood to others. That is our next plan--to send all of you out to teach, every one of you. You have to teach people to sit, teach people not to think so much, teach people to think a lot, and all the rest of it. If you do not have any understanding of the teachings, you will have no teaching capabilities at all; you will just become dumbfounded. In any case, when you begin to teach, at the same time that you begin to realize how much you do know, you also realize how much you don't know. So before you teach, you have to study. You have to learn all about the dharma: it's very sophisticated and powerful metaphysics; the philosophies that are connected with studying the human mind, our own mind; the study of reality; the function of the dharma and everything else.
It is very important for you to study if you want to survive. If you don't study, you are going to perish as if you didn't have any oxygen left. If you don't study, you can't teach; and if you don't teach, you will die in depression. It is very important for you to realize the importance of this. If you don't understand the dharma because of your lack of personal interest in learning all its details and subtleties, then you are committing yourselves into a meditative nuthouse. You can sit a lot, but so what? If you don't study, you don't have compassion, you don't have sympathy to others in the world. You become so mean, just sitting by yourself and practicing, that there is no outlet, no way to do anything at all.
So those three principles--practice, money and learning--actually work with each other and all three of them are very important. People in the past have worked on those same three things.
Overall, it seems that there is a need for a refined sense of humor that will cut your karmic neurosis so that you no longer lay heavy trips on yourselves. Instead you begin to feel that there is an actual celebration taking place. A genuine sense of celebration takes place, and it becomes very real. So dharma practice, dharma presentation, and the student-teacher relationship all become very real and very genuine.
If you have any questions, we could have a discussion.
QUESTION: At the audience that I had with Karmapa, he stressed that when you take refuge in the sangha that refers to the monkhood, to the priests. And when we told him that we thought we were the sangha, he said we should ask you what our relationship was.
RINPOCHE: Well, if you get a chance to talk to His Holiness again, tell him that although we are not a monastic order, we are also members of the sangha; we are the vajra sangha. Okay? [Laughter.]
Q: Could you please say something about how the Karma Dzong community should relate to the general Boulder community?
If you are too rich, you do not have to use your brain anymore. You just buy, or even get somebody else to buy for you.
R: Well, I think we are already doing it, except that more people from Boulder should be converted by the Karma Dzong people. That's it. Very simple. The Karma Dzong community shouldn't remain an enigma. We should present ourselves as genuine people, good nontheistic people who are willing to work with anybody, anytime, willing to teach them the practice of meditation. That's it!
Q: Rinpoche, you have said on different occasions that you're glad that we're not rich, and you're thankful that we're poor. Yet the vajra world requires elegance and money.
R: That's right.
Q: Now I'm sure there's no discrepancy [laughter], but could you explain it?
R: Well, that's a very good one actually. We don't have lots of money. None of us has any money at all, did you know that? [Laughter.] Our wallets are usually empty. But we are able to present ourselves in a very dignified and opulent way. By opulence I don't mean richness created by money alone; I mean a state of mind which reflects a sense of delight and satisfaction in life, one which presents a sense of elegance generally. The term for the kind of opulence that comes from wealth alone is nouveau riche. Nouveau riche refers to people who have lots of money but do not know at all what they should do with it. They spend millions and trillions of dollars on one gold toothpick, and still they look very cheap, absolutely cheap. They are very crude and crummy, and they do not even have good table manners. They don't know how to choose their suits and ties. They might choose only the most expensive clothing, but their wealth combined with their lack of taste produces terrible results.
In our case, however, that nouveau riche tendency is watered down becuase we just don't have enough opulence as far as money goes--and at the same time, we do have a sense of elegance already. So we do the best we can, with whatever cash we have, all the time. That is actually the art of being elegant. It depends not so much on whether you are rich all the time, but on whether you know how to manipulate, how to spend your money. The whole thing could become very beautiful, a work of art in itself. If you are too rich, you do not have to use your brain anymore. You just buy, or even get somebody else to buy for you. You can call an interior decorator to arrange your home; you can send someone out to buy your shoes--and in fact they won't fit you. That kind of situation is very sad. A lot of money is wasted completely, absolutely wasted. But we who are poor and elegant will pick and choose, one article at a time--one tie from among the others, one suit from among the others. We know what we want and we can actually recognize it.
Money doesn't make people elegant; elegance is something separate. When people are intelligent, and particularly when they are inspired by the Great Eastern Sun and the vajra world, their taste cannot go wrong. With our money we can buy little by little, rather than in big chunks. That is our saving grace. Our community is growing by being squeezed; and one by one, little by little, every member of our community is becoming very elegant. This is so because we do not have too much money to throw around, to play around with. That seems to be the point, actually. If we had too much money, we couldn't develop the vajra world; there would be no need for it. So although our funds are tight, our vision is enormous. That is the way we behave; and that combination works very brilliantly and very beautifully [laughs.]
Well, ladies and gentlemen, I think we should stop at this point. I would like to say farewell, good-bye to everybody. This is my famous last speech; I won't be speaking to you again in this fashion before I leave. We are planning to have the birthday celebration, but I don't particularly want to talk about philosophy or wisdom there. In any case, you have become wonderful students, and I have no regrets at all. You have every piece of me; you can have me [laughs.] Thank you for being such wonderful students. I will miss you in my retreat and be thinking of you all. And I'll come back. Thank you.
Please send comments and offerings to
Comments and offerings
Red Dress
The lady in the red dress
Ms emptiness is all dressed up
Bringing what every body needs
Heartbreak, loneliness, "unrequited love"
It's good for us to feel these feelings
And as far as the world is concerned
Not to worry ;*; it's contagious !
And this precious human birth
Journey through bloody womb gate
Bathed in rakta like pure gold [Vajrayogini lingo]
Into the realm of people like us
Who try so very hard and are so truly sincere
Did the lady in the red dress bring you here?
We are so happy; we love you so much
The tide is already coming in
An ocean of joy is swelling
Madeline
Nova Scotia
Shambhala Day 2010
***
Thank you for this wonderful, rich website, and for this page on the first day of the Yang Metal Tiger year.
It helped me to feel more cheerful about being a monkey at this time.
Love to All,
Shambhavi
Shambhavi Sarasvati
jayakula.org
***
If it helps at all, I heard the Vidyadhara say a few things that gave me some idea at least of how music appeared to him. It was based on a different sense of “taste” or appreciation than I was used to.
He said that what he felt was off about Country and Western music was the romanticising of always “movin’ on” and leaving loved ones when things get difficult, and then writing achy-breaky-heart songs about it, as though one had no choice but to leave. He felt that it is better, and more warrior-like, to stay and work with whatever comes up in relationships instead of withdrawing inward (i.e., getting on your horse and leaving).
I can’t remember where I heard or read this, but he mentioned—I believe in the context of appreciating devotion in other spiritual traditions—weeping when he first heard Bach’s Matthaus Passion (St. Matthew Passion) when he was studying in England as a monk. I even flatter myself that I have identified one or two of the parts he might have been referring to: Part 39, the aria Erbarme dich may be one (I have the Helmuth Rilling version, with Ingeborg Danz singing a heart-rending alto).
Part 39: Aria: Erbarme dich
Erbarme dich,
Mein Gott, um meiner Zähren willen!
Shaue hier,
Herz und Auge weint vor dir
Bitterlich.
Have mercy, Lord, on me,
Regard my bitter weeping,
Look at me,
Heart and eyes both weep to Thee
Bitterly.
I also heard him say that he thought some of the great composers were “misplaced tulkus.” He mentioned Bach, Mozart and Beethoven as examples.
Hopefully someone has a better memory for these utterances by the Vidyadhara, or more complete versions or clearer context.
Cheerful New Year to all,
Nick Wright
***
Dear friends,
Just a note of appreciation for your tremendous work and generosity! This whole website is a true gem!