HomeStoriesbriefbriefReader's CommentsFunding

What's new?


Sakyong Wangmo Empowerment,
photos by Marvin Moore.


Alice Haspray blogs the Sakyong Wangmo Empowerment.


Carol Johnstone blogs the Sakyong Wangmo Empowerment.


Tribute to Lisa Hilliard

Photo from 2000 Seminary; photograph by Bernard Spiegeleer.


Slideshow from the Speech Empowerment

by Marvin Ross


Tribute to Don Donaghy


New posts and photos from the Speech Empowerment

a blog
by Carolyn Rose Gimian


Installing the Kangyur,

a video presentation from the Shambhala Archives


Chogyam Trungpa on CKGM Radio in Montreal

Photo by James Gritz
2008, all rights reserved


The Karmapa's teachings in Seattle

Christine Keyser reporting


1974 Seminary

a short film
by Vicki Genson


Reggie Ray on Dispatches

(Photo by Christine Alicino)


The Great Vajradhara of Dorje Dzong and the Karmapa's golden handprint

For more stories, articles, blogs, tributes, interviews, etc, visit
Stories,
Chronicles Radio, and
Brief encounters.


Become a member


Sign up for
free updates

Letters of support

The Druk Sakyong Wangmo, Lady Diana Mukpo

Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche



newsBiographyBibliographyChronologyContact UsLinks

Tributes

The tributes below were posted between April 4 and May 26, 2007 to commemorate the 20th anniversary of Trungpa Rinpoche's parinirvana.


Sangha tribute blog

Tribute from

posted

Dilgo Khyentse

May 26

Jetsun Kushok

May 26

Yongey Mingyur

May 26

Traleg Kyabgon

May 26

James Gimian

May 26

Martin Janowitz

May 26

Robin Kornman

May 26

Denault Blouin

May 25

Susan Edwards-audio

May 24

Walker Blaine

May 23

Vajra Regent

May 22

Dzogchen Ponlop

May 21

Diana Torbert

May 20

Greg Smith

May 19

Tessa Pybus

May 18

Reggie Ray

May 17

Joshua Zim

May 16

Ashoka Mukpo

May 15

Tenzin Wangyal

May 14

Bill Douglas

May 13

Peter Volz

May 12

Ani Pema Chödrön

May 11

Shenpen Hookham

May 9

Tsoknyi Rinpoche

May 8

Barry Boyce

May 7

Tulku Thondup

May 6

Steve Gorn

May 5

HH Dalai Lama

May 4

Sam Bercholz

May 3

Wendy Friedman

May 2

Jakusho Kwong Roshi

May 1

Fabrice Midal

April 30

B Bash/S Gorn

April 29

Sherab Chodzin Kohn

April 28

Chokyi Nyima

April 27

Joan Halifax Roshi

April 26

A Waldman/D Rome

April 25

Clarke Warren

April 24

Kanjuro Shibata

April 23

CTR Talk, 1975

April 22

Jigme Phuntsok

April 21

Tom Coburn

April 20

Tania Leontov

April 19

Leonard Hortick

April 18

Richard John

April 17

Anne Burchardi

April 16

Bardor Tulku

April 15

Jerry Granelli

April 14

Michael Chender

April 13

Douglas Penick

April 12

Carolyn Gimian

April 11

Ato Rinpoche

April 10

Eido Roshi

April 9

Gina Stick

April 8

Rigdzin Shikpo

April 7

Gesar Mukpo

April 6

Francesca Fremantle

April 5

CTR Talk, 1979

April 4

Sakyong Mipham

April 4

Lady Diana Mukpo

April 4

Thrangu Rinpoche

April 4

Dzongsar Khyentse

April 4

Khenpo Rinpoche

April 4

Richard Reoch

April 4

Susan Edwards

April 4

Peter Lieberson

April 4

Denault Blouin

Denny Blouin helped to found the Kootenay Dharmadhatu in Nelson, BC in the early 1970s, and later studied at Naropa Institute and Maitri Center. He and his family moved to Halifax in 1981, where he has taught writing to business people and professionals, written for the Shambhala Sun, and published poetry. From 1989 to 1992 he co-developed a variety of programs for The Naropa Institute of Canada, celebrating Nova Scotia as the rock-meets-bone ground for the enlightened society the Vidyadhara declared it to be in 1976, sight unseen.

"Fuck you."

"Did he say, 'Fuck you'?"

"Yeah. He just said it again."

To whomever—was it Ginsberg?—on that long ten-tape "Tibetan Buddhism and American Karma" seminar (November, 1971) we were listening to in the winter of '73 in the Kootenays, bushwhacked ex-american drop-outs in our mid 30s.

Out of the States, yes, but still inseparably connected, wired to the news we'd left, Nixon's descent, the war we'd organized against and then left because politics as such had become a dead end—missing something we loosely called spiritual, looking for a reality deeper than the dialectics of struggle through working with our hands on the land, holding candle-lit Ramakrishna-inspired satsangs on Sunday evenings, attended by New Age outlaw territory draft-dodgers, drug smugglers/growers, whole earth bushfreak refugees on the run from materialism.

Well, Rinpoche blew a hole in all that with Cutting Through. He obliterated it. He took on the whole culture, all of it. He was not pure and he appealed to us—to me—because of that. In street-immediate language, Rinpoche brought spirituality down to an act I could practice, without having to change clothes, food, homes or jobs. There was a softness, a looseness and an intense color that clothed an intellectual rigor and an inscrutably seductive style that, if such things appealed to you, were irresistible.

Just as the West had once gone East to explore Tibet when it was called the Forbidden Kingdom, so Rinpoche had escaped Tibet for the West, but there was no kingdom forbidden to him here. With the eye of an artist, the mind of a warrior with utterly nothing to lose and an uncompromising compassion often difficult to fathom, he went right into the deep reaches of the culture, ransacking its kleshas—exposing its "something stinks" self-deception, addictive materialism, and blamelessly ignorant belief "in an external reality" that splits the world into us and them. And he located all of this where it lived most intimately: in the minds of his students.

At the very same time, Rinpoche recognized what was basically sane and genuine in the arts, science, business, religion, medicine, military and history of the West and the East, China and Japan, and he appropriated whatever he needed to establish a foundation for nine yanas Buddhadharma in the West.

I felt wary of Rinpoche, in fact, scared of him. Of course, at some level most of us were: the guru was like a fire, he said-too close and you get burned, too far and you're out in the cold. Flames are never the same; he was always unpredictable, to say the least. I know now I was afraid to take a risk, afraid of getting flattened by one of those black wrathful axe-handed thangka figures that, for me, seemed to stand in shadow behind Rinpoche. I regret this now, for learning from Rinpoche involved a willingness to be totally exposed. In fact, in his presence one was already.

All of our trips—those little things we do underneath our reasons—became transparent around Rinpoche as he strove to cut through them to reveal the best in our nature and provide a path to realize it . . . those little things, the little lies we tell to excuse ourselves from responsibility, even for ourselves . . . the little things we do to get an edge on others . . . those little things that let us slide by the fact of life: we're going to die, what we do now matters to self, other, all sentient beings, the planet.

It was that vast and profound with Rinpoche. Every detail mattered. Neurosis was compost, and laughter.

That's what attracted students to him. Serious students of religion and the dharma, mindbody investigators, burn-out refugees from other teachers, enlightenment seekers, spiritual travelers to the East, Western long-hair yogis, drop-out academics, intellectuals, digital pioneers, psychologists, doctors, alt. therapists, musicians, actors, dancers, artists, writers, college students, on-their-own teenagers, seniors, new left veterans, hippies, dope smokers, acid heads, drinkers-the whole beat, freaking mix with Rinpoche in the midst. Eating it. Answering it.

That was the thing. To the most profound phenomenological and existential questions, Rinpoche had an answer in plain language that encompassed both the question and questioner in ways that not only sparked deeper insights and questions, but also addressed the vulnerability of the person asking the question in the first place. In other words, his answers often provocatively put you on the spot. And were meant for you alone; you couldn't often generalize from his answers. Especially when the questions were personal and sometimes so tender they had been held for years. (Once asking a student what her work was, when she answered, "Psychologist," he said, "Me too.") And if he did not have an answer he would say so.

Rinpoche had an ability—it was beyond uncanny, it was precise—to see, first, that vulnerable, soft spot in people which made them naturally open and most fully human, and, second, to speak to that as the source of awareness itself which was, after all, the point.

There will never be another like him. But there will be others. This is the tiger-riding, ego-corpse treading, crazy—"craziness gone wisdom"—lineage: raw and pure.



2007 Denault Blouin
Halifax, 4/2/07




2007 The Chronicles of CTR
Design: kikker.com