From Chapter 5

"I have been doing as much as I can in my presentation of the teachings so far to make sure you understand that each one of the dharmas I have presented to you is your personal experience. You can actually relate the dharma to what you experience on the spot."—Chögyam Trungpa

To Speak from the Heart

Chögyam Trungpa is one of the most widely read Buddhist authors among the various Western practitioners of the dharma. The quality and depth of his teachings remain as vibrant now as they were when he was physically among us. His many books form a genuine body of work, with its own unity. Rinpoche hoped eventually to see the publication of 108 volumes destined for the general public, to which would be added about 40 volumes intended for more advanced students.

For the most part, his works are based on transcripts of oral teachings. On each occasion, Chögyam Trungpa taught in relationship to the context in which he found himself and the expectations of the people who had come to hear him. But he also had in mind to present a unified group of teachings that could be edited into works that would be of use to people in the future. He explained that he was teaching not just his own students but also future generations.

What makes his books so different from those of other spiritual teachers?

One characteristic of his approach was that he did not cater to people's expectations, especially when it came to preconceptions about spirituality. Without adopting a mystical or subjective approach, Chögyam Trungpa broke with both theology and metaphysics—that is, with the theoretical approach to spirituality that has dominated the West since the days of scholasticism. He also broke with the normative, moralistic discourse in which religion often cloaks itself. He wore none of the conventional masks of the "sage." His rigor was unequaled, merciless, and yet never dogmatic.

His teaching style was very different from what he had seen at Oxford. Nor did he adopt the traditional Tibetan style, which generally consists of the line-by-line explanation of a classic text and commentaries by a great teacher of the past.

During the first few years, he taught in an extremely direct and free manner, aiming at the heart of everyone's experience: "We are going back to the original style of how Buddhism was practiced in the time of the Buddha, so that people live the dharma, they live impermanence on the spot. They actually live the whole thing, properly and fully. That seems to be the only way to make everything real."

Despite the deep comprehension and realization of other teachers, many of them are stuck in a web of concepts embedded in their traditions. This makes them hard to understand for those who were brought up outside those traditions. This is why Chögyam Trungpa decided to speak so directly. If Buddhism is to be a description of how we can free ourselves from conceptual thought—or, more precisely, our set of beliefs concerning reality—Chögyam Trungpa showed the way. He constantly cut through abstractions in order to reveal our most concrete experiences of their ultimate depth. He invented a new language that allowed him to provide simple explanations for complicated, advanced teachings.

Apart from the brilliance of his teaching, there was another, even more touching factor: Chögyam Trungpa spoke directly about his own experience, sharing his heart with his entire audience. He thus removed the distance that Tibetan tradition maintains between teacher and disciple. In this way, as explained in the preceding chapter, Chögyam Trungpa leaped into modernity: "So I thought I shouldn't be too methodical or scholarly in expounding the vajrayana to you, and that I should speak from my heart." He did not mean "from my heart" in the sentimental sense, but in a spirit of complete openness and involvement. Over and above being a guru, he was a human being entering into a relationship of friendship with another human being.

This quality is particularly noticeable in the inimitable way he answered questions. The typical Tibetan teacher gives a scholarly, often very long, precise, and technical answer to each question, taking the opportunity to reiterate some doctrinal point. Chögyam Trungpa answered the person directly. When you read these answers later, they often seem to be off the point. But if you watch the videotape of the question-and-answer session, then everything becomes clear. The visual image reveals the special atmosphere of an encounter between two people. Chögyam Trungpa replied not just to the meaning of the words in the question, but to what the person was really trying to ask and had concealed behind the words. He did not try to give the "right" answer according to Buddhist doctrine; instead, he pointed to the space out of which the question came, in order to open his student's mind further.

His teaching had nothing technical or philosophical about it. Chögyam Trungpa liked to surprise and touch his audience. When listening to him, or when reading his words today, there is always a moment when a flash of his intense brilliance suddenly hooks you. To take one example, while he was presenting a seminar on the life of Naropa, one of the greatest teachers of the Kagyu lineage, he began by explaining: "It seems that in relation to the whole thing we are talking about, Naropa's attainment of enlightenment is not that important. It is Naropa's confusion that is important for us as ordinary people." Thanks to this turnabout, he cut through the usual logic in order to show what had previously been hidden but which is of vital importance: while everyone was expecting to find in Naropa a primary example of spiritual accomplishment, Chögyam Trungpa emphasized that it was the way Naropa coped with his confusion that is truly edifying. Thus we follow the path not by imitating an external model but by establishing authentic contact with who we really are. It is while we are listening that we are suddenly disarmed and opened out to an even vaster dimension than the one we had perceived initially—and there is nothing conceptual about such an experience.

He never appeared to teach out of a sense of duty. This was surely the secret of the freedom he manifested. He wanted to enter into a relationship with students that was as direct as possible. At the end of a talk, he often would devote some time to meeting those who had come to listen to him. A line of people formed, everyone waiting to exchange a few words with him personally. Even though it was just for a few minutes, he was so available and concerned about who you were that people were profoundly moved by just a short contact. He thus radically changed the lives of those he encountered. Susan G., one of his students, remembers the moment when she was introduced to him: "I was stunned, as if I had received an electric shock. He held out his hand to me, and when I took it I felt the most unbelievable feeling of gentleness I had ever known. In contrast, my own energy felt painfully aggressive. Then I looked into his eyes. There was a softness and kindness exuding from him which I had never experienced before and, beyond that, a depth I could not fathom. I couldn't find the person beyond those eyes. The effect on me was tremendously powerful. It was as if this man could see through to my deepest core, and yet he accepted me. I felt I had been penetrated by loving but X-ray eyes—my mask unraveled in the light of his being so real."

Most university professors, many scholars, and some religious personalities adopt a particular tone of voice and look when they speak, as if they are playing a part. So nothing was more moving than to listen to someone speak without this layer of protection distorting his humanity. Chögyam Trungpa, with his high voice, burning with love for all of us, was there before us, naked and cosmic