Chöd In the Ganden Tradition: The Oral Instructions of Kyabje Zong Rinpoche

How do we deal with fear? The following excerpt is taken from Chöd in the Ganden Tradition, the long-waited first book in English by the extraordinary master Kyabje Zong Rinpoche, one of the greatest teachers of our time. He speaks of chöd, a potent practice designed to transform fear and use it to move towards enlightenment. Initially, we should practice chöd alone in our room at night, quietly, with less fear. It is by gradually developing bodhicitta and wisdom realizing emptiness—not by just becoming more brave—that we can confidently realize that whatever appears or happens can be transformed into the path. At that point, we should become more determined in our place of practice. Do not, under any circumstances, endanger your life in the choice of place. Unless we have great experience, we should never do this practice anywhere endangered by falling rocks or trees, possible floods, or the threat of a collapsing house. Eventually, when we achieve full confidence in chöd, there is no need to go to violent places at all. This is because terrifying visions will appear wherever we are. That is important because we need terrifying visions of spirits if we are to practice chöd sincerely. People have different mental capacities for fear. Some are too brave, some are too afraid. Both of these types of people will find chöd difficult. We must have some fear for this practice to be successful. A desperate search for the “I” causes fear to develop. To overcome this fear the best method is bodhicitta and the wisdom realizing emptiness. It is because of the need for fear that practice should be done alone. Any group retreat on chöd lessens the fear involved. Engaging in the practice at night also increases the “necessary” fear. If we are going to practice in a cemetery or elsewhere, we must avoid “unnecessary” fear. Carefully examine the place in daylight so as to distinguish what is there. One graveyard in Tibet had a reliquary house for tsa-tsa statues that was surrounded by nettles. A chöd practitioner did not examine this cemetery beforehand, so when he experienced fear during his practice, he mistook the reliquary house for a spirit, and the nettles and branches for the spirit’s arms. As a result, when he fell into the nettles and felt his robe caught by the branches, he experienced such fear that he ran away, leaving his damaru next to the reliquary house! We should not be too afraid. We must train the mind carefully. Whatever appears to us, our mind should remain calm. We may see images and hear sounds. Developing fear, our hair may stand up and we may want to flee. But it is precisely at this moment of fear that we should search carefully for the “I” that is afraid. We should then give up this “I” by offering our body to our fears and mixing our mind with space. In this way we will find that the “I” does not exist and we will realize emptiness. It is difficult to identify the object negated in emptiness if we only do this practice in our rooms, however. We need to go to frightful places to clarify the “I” that is to be negated. It is through examining our fear that we attain a precious result. If our mind is mixed with space and our body has been offered to spirits, then where is a concrete, independent “I” or self? It seems that it must be there with the body or the mind, yet both of these no longer exist in the way they did before. Realizing space-like emptiness, all our fears will be pacified. The purpose of doing chöd practice in frightful places is not only to realize emptiness but also to develop bodhicitta. Having offered our body to the spirits, there is no longer any need to care about it. We should really visualize our blood as an ocean for the spirits to drink, our body as food for the spirits to eat. It is for the sake of all mother sentient beings that we give up our body. “Exchanging self for others” in a graveyard is a very powerful method for developing bodhicitta because all attachment to the body ceases. Without fear, chöd cannot be practiced. It is fear for the “I” that causes the desperate search for an “I” to hold on to. When the non-existence of an inherently existent, independent “I” is directly perceived then we are realizing emptiness. The antidote to such fear is bodhicitta motivation. This is very significant. The place of chöd practice amplifies the “necessary” fear. —Excerpted from Chöd in the Ganden Tradition: The Oral Instructions of Kyabje Zong Rinpoche Books Related to Chöd

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Mahamudra: Meditation Directly on Reality Itself

Tilopa and the Attainment of Non-Attainment   Tilopa (988–1069) Once, Tilopa advised his disciple to go off to an isolated retreat and avoid any meditation. Now, this may seem a little unusual for a meditation retreat. He explains, however, that when you go to meditate, you normally take up something to meditate on, some thing. That thing, and therefore that meditation, is necessarily artificial. The practice of Mahamudra is not like that at all. It is not taking up a thing called Mahamudra and meditating on it. Ultimately, Mahamudra practice is meditation directly on reality itself. the nature of reality is beyond the illusion of the phenomenal world, the world as it appears. Reality itself is not something devised or made up. What you have to do here is accustom yourself to that, practice that. You are not taking up a meditation, but rather are practicing something. Like any activity, when you practice and become accustomed to it, it becomes easier and easier. So, acquaint yourself with this lack of anything whatsoever to be taken up as a discrete object. Focus on reality itself and become accustomed to that. Tilopa’s advice, then, is that if you attain something by this Mahamudra practice, then you have not attained Mahamudra. Attaining Mahamudra is attaining non-attainment. If you are not getting anything, then you’re getting Mahamudra. If you get some thing, then necessarily it is not Mahamudra. What does it mean to attain non-attachment? What is the meaning of this? If, when we strive for Buddhahood, we think that Buddhahood is something that we are going to get, we will be making a great mistake. We would be like hunters going after an animal. Buddhahood would be reduced to just another worldly activity in which we engage to get some pleasure for ourselves. Mahamudra is not like that, it is not some thing to be obtained. It is attaining the state of non-attainment. Understanding that, we do not focus on obtaining something but on transcending. We have to get beyond that search for something to grasp onto. Mahamudra. . . . is not some thing to be obtained. It is attaining the state of non-attainment. Understanding that, we do not focus on obtaining something but on transcending. Now the nature of reality is beyond the illusion of the phenomenal world, the world as it appears. What appears is illusory; reality is something else. So, when engaging in this meditation on Mahamudra, one seeks to realize Mahamudra. As long as it is something that is an object of mind, something that is conceived by mind, then is it necessarily something other than Mahamudra. Mahamudra is not a conception, not something which is of the nature of appearances or of the nature of objects of the conventional mind. Tilopa’s advice is that if the disciple wishes to see Mahamudra, the disciple must go beyond conventional mind and abandon worldly involvement, because the conventional mind and worldly activities are what obscure the realization of Mahamudra and can never lead to it. Therefore, whatever we look for, whatever we try to hold on to in terms of objects of mind, is not going to be Mahamudra. It is something other than that. It is not of the nature of the phenomenal world in any sense. As long as we conceive of it as something, we are making a mistake and will not attain the realization of Mahamudra in that way. Tilopa’s advice is that if the disciple wishes to see Mahamudra, the disciple must go beyond conventional mind and abandon worldly involvement, because the conventional mind and worldly activities are what obscure the realization of Mahamudra and can never lead to it. —excerpted from The Practice of Mahamudra His Holiness Chetsang Rinpoche is the thirty-seventh Drikung Kyabgon head of the Drikung Kagyu order of Tibetan Buddhism. He has worked tirelessly to renew and spread its scholarly and meditative traditions in many countries, including the United States. He lives at the seat of the Drikung Kagyu order in Dehra Dun, India. For more information: Click link for more Books, Videos, Articles, Events and Online Courses on Mahamudra. Related Books

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Running (Well) On Empty: An Interview with Guy Newland

  Emptiness is perhaps the most important—yet difficult to define—topic in Buddhism. Guy Newland, author of Introduction to Emptiness—a kind of every-person’s guide to the intricacies of various explanations of emptiness—based his book on The Great Treatise on the Stages of the Path: The Lamrim Chenmo by Tsong-kha-pa, of which he was the editor. Here he talks about really understanding emptiness, and why it’s important. Christine Cox: You’re known for being able to convey the complexities about what emptiness is—and isn’t—in fresh ways that most people can understand. Have you had students who hear about emptiness, get a taste of it, and freak out? As in Omigod, what happened to my world? Guy Newland: I do hear stories about people who, when they hear about emptiness, their hair stands up and they begin to cry. They feel that they’ve come home. My students haven’t reacted that dramatically, but some get very excited because the ideas about emptiness express something that they somehow always knew about the world but didn’t have a way to say. That makes sense to me [laughs]. We’re full all the time with all the information we need to refute our wrong views. We walk around as a bundle of contradictions, in a certain sense. It’s not surprising that some people would say Oh yes, this finally helps me make sense of the confusion I’ve had about how things are. CC: On the other hand, perhaps there are people for whom emptiness teachings may not be currently helpful. GN: People who are having psychological problems already of one sort or another, whether it’s issues with their own sense of identity or difficulties feeling any sense of boundaries between themselves and the world, probably should not be spending a lot of time thinking about emptiness. CC: In your book you use an ingenious array of examples—from burning one’s mouth on pizza to dueling attorneys (to explain how Bhavaviveka and Chandrakirti’s views differ!)—to demonstrate quite subtle points about emptiness. GN: Using things that are part of people’s common experience works well. For example, students can recognize that when they’re filled with desire, the object of their desire seems to be intrinsically or naturally appealing. As soon as you can see that, you’re on to identifying the object of negation. It really helps to get a sense that distorted ways of seeing things as having their own intrinsic nature is how we ordinarily look at the world. And that comes to the fore when we have strong afflictions present. CC: This is probably an unfair question, but how would you encapsulate the various views on emptiness in Buddhism? GN: Well, some traditions focus on the idea that emptiness is the absolute reality, the fundamental thing that exists, and that other things that appear are illusions. The practices involve allowing the fundamental purity that is the nature of things to shine out. I think that’s a common way to practice in Tibetan Buddhism; you can find parallels to it in other Mahayana traditions outside of Tibet as well. And then there is another way of looking at things. It doesn’t disagree with that, exactly, but it shifts the focus a little and says, well, nothing absolutely exists. Nothing, including emptiness, exists in and of itself. Everything exists only conventionally because everything exists only interdependently. This is fundamentally true of even emptiness itself. That’s what Nagarjuna said; that’s what he meant when he said not to take dogmatic views of emptiness. He meant not to reify emptiness as an absolute essence. Therefore, in this view, emptiness is another conventionally existing thing. All things exist conventionally. Emptiness is the name that we give to one particular existing thing: the fact that nothing exists ultimately. And that’s a very different way of talking about things. This latter way of talking about things predominates in Nagarjuna’s Fundamental Treatise and in Chandrakirti and in Tsong-Kha-pa’s Great Treatise. These texts are not opposed to the idea of saying that emptiness is the fundamental reality. They do believe that emptiness is the final nature of things. But they want to avoid having that be understood as an absolute essence. I could probably boil it down: Do you think of emptiness as a kind of absolute essence of pure mind? Or do you think of it as the lack or absence of any essence? Anywhere? At all? Which way do you want to approach this? They’re really different, I think. Both of these views have scriptural basis in the Mahayana. Both of them have strong practice lineages in Tibet. I think HH the Dalai Lama has made a large effort in some of his teachings, such as in Kindness, Clarity, and Insight, to try to bridge these and show that they are both legitimate aspects of the Mahayana tradition and that people should see that these are both medicines that are in the Buddhist pharmacy, not distortions of the dharma. CC: Understanding emptiness—not only conceptually but also experientially—seems to be a prerequisite for many Buddhist practices, certainly for tantra. How deep a realization of emptiness is needed before one begins the tantric path? GN: It seems to me if you’re getting into self-generation as a deity, that should be done on a foundation of understanding emptiness, or you open yourself to danger in the practice when you’re visualizing yourself as a divine being. You have to understand that it’s an empty divine being—it’s a problem if you don’t, right? Good teachers understand that, but what they choose to do with it in terms of how they actually teach their students could be different. For example, Lama Yeshe would say that it’s not expected that all students will have already realized emptiness as they start to do visualizations. So he would suggest that they think of space as a way to imagine emptiness. This recommendation has a scriptural basis—it says in one of the Perfection of Wisdom sutras that space is the best example people can use to think about what emptiness is like. CC: In Great Treatise, on which your book is based, Tsong-kha-pa puts forward the idea that conceptual thought is not the root cause of our problems, but rather a tool for liberation. GN: Of course that’s an absolutely core idea in the book. People sometimes have the idea that if they would simply stop thinking about things—sort of bury their heads in the sand—that problems would go away. They think that all that’s needed is to practice a deep kind of concentration—very, very focused and one-pointed. It could be a very peaceful state of mind that relieves us of all our ordinary troubles. The wish to do this is deeply in us—kids will go on a merry-go-round until they’re dizzy just to stop their ordinary experience, or roll down a hill—which is what I did as a kid. Something within just wants a break from the constant talking in our heads—which can lead to sex or drugs or drumming, for example. The problem, of course, is that it doesn’t get at the root of our problems. If we don’t strengthen our thinking and analyze more carefully, then we don’t get at what’s really causing our suffering. Then as soon as the non-conceptual vacation is over, we come back to the same problems that we had before. They haven’t changed at all. If the suffering world is only a thought-construction, then stopping thought does seem to be the most liberating move. Yet as Tsong-kha-pa famously argues, another step beyond this, seeing that not thinking is not enough, is at the very heart of what it means to be a Buddhist. Other religions have profound ethics, and techniques for accessing amazing non-conceptual states, but Buddhism claims the distinction of a penetrating analysis of how the world exists. Only by engaging this analysis, and engaging it conceptually, does one create the basis for real liberation from unnecessary misery. As Ch’an master Sheng Yen teaches, practice is not about stopping thought, for if it were, your teacher could just whack you in the head with a hammer. CC: It sometimes feels that way… GN: Yes! Once you have this understanding of how things exist, developed through careful analysis, you use the power of mental focus, developed in concentration and meditation, and make this understanding of emptiness the focus of your practice. That way you combine these two kinds of Buddhist meditation—the kind that involves focusing your mind and making it a powerful instrument, and the analytical power, discriminating and discerning and working out exactly how things exist. This is the path of preparation, preparing yourself to go into nirvana. CC: Our editor described your book as being as close to a page-turner as a book on emptiness can get. I imagine you must have metabolized the various viewpoints on emptiness through yourself in order to present them so clearly. GN: First of all, I was the main editor of Volume Three of the Great Treatise. It was a big challenge. That part of the book wasn’t written as an introduction; it was written for other scholars within the tradition to make it clear exactly what distinctions Tsong-kha-pa had sorted out and exactly how they were based in the Indian shastras. As a translator I had to understand it; one can’t just put the words into English without knowing what he’s saying. What I tried to do in Introduction to Emptiness is explain the ideas as I would to students—whether at universities or dharma centers. I had to say to myself, hey, what’s Tsong-khapa’s real point here and how can I express it in a way my readers will understand? Books by Guy Newland

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The Psychology of Buddhist Tantra

These excerpts from The Psychology of Buddhist Tantra—one on retreat and the other on purification—are entertaining, knowledgeable, and rich with Preece’s hard-earned wisdom as a longtime Buddhist practitioner and psychotherapist. MEDITATION RETREAT The alchemical vessel of meditation retreat is very powerful. The Tibetan word for retreat, samlado, means, literally, “to sit or stay within boundaries,” and the retreat situation is a place where the boundaries within which you live are defined specifically for the purpose of meditation. These boundaries may demand not speaking, not reading distracting literature like newspapers, and meeting only specific people. There may be defined geographical boundaries beyond which you do not go, and specific activities performed each day. The body, speech, and mind are placed within this context—the vessel—and whatever arises from the unconscious is what you work with. So long as you maintain your self-discipline, the energy of whatever arises is held, and transformation can take its course. This can make retreat uncomfortable, particularly over long periods. In one retreat of over six months, I experienced weeks of powerful sexual fantasies principally resulting from the deity I was practicing, which was intended to evoke and transform such feelings. For a while I found the intensity of energy almost intolerable, but by remaining within the clearly defined retreat boundaries, and giving the energy a vehicle for its transformation in the meditation practice, the intensity eventually began to subside. After a time the fantasies ceased, and I noticed a change had gradually taken place through the process of meditation. The wild, crazy energy that had been evoked was changing into something much freer and more blissful. The bliss was accompanied by an openness or spaciousness that enabled it to be experienced without the grasping that would turn it into sexual desire and frustration. I sensed that for the first time the wild, uncivilized rawness of my sexual energy was falling within my own control rather than my being its slave. In retreat the practitioner enters a process that is an intense example of transformation. The practitioner is the prima materia, and in one sense the body is also the container in which the transformation takes place. The body is the vessel that contains the elemental forces of the unconscious; the emotions, the instincts, and their related psychological patterns and impulses. The use of deity practices and ritual sadhanas (methods of transformation) in Tantra give a focus to retreat and act as a catalyst for transformation. They provide the forces awakening within the body with a symbolic vehicle through which they can be channeled. When undertaken skillfully and with guidance, retreat can be a profound experience in which the retreat boundaries exist to support the inner process. There are inevitable dangers with retreat, and fanatical extremism leads to trouble. If a meditator pushes too hard when he or she is not ready, the result can be disastrous. I recall a man who left the army to come and live in the Buddhist community where I once lived. He had heard that by gaining samadhi (Tib. shi né, “tranquil abiding,” often called “single-pointed concentration”) in meditation he could develop superhuman powers. He became utterly determined to gain this power, which takes long periods of intense, highly disciplined meditation in retreat. He prepared a room in the basement and was told by his teacher to meditate on a particular practice. Within a week of fervent pushing and squeezing, his anger and frustration were at boiling point; he burst out of retreat and made his way to the nearest pub. When last heard of, he had joined the French Foreign Legion. PURIFICATION We might think that the concept of purification implies a dualism between that which is impure, and therefore undesired, and that which is pure and desired. This may also seem to contradict the essential meaning of Buddha nature, which is that all phenomena, whether pure or impure, are empty of inherent existence. It is our ignorance and dualistic thinking that judges and discriminates one from the other. This implies that the primary obscuration to be purified is dualistic thinking and its consequences. The ultimate purification is indeed the realization of emptiness experienced moment by moment. However, because attention in Tantra is focused upon the energy-winds, purification on this level helps to clear the underlying obstructions that prevent an experience of nonduality. It is defiled energy-winds that are the underlying or hidden cause of dualistic ignorance. While the conventional language of Tantra speaks of purification, we can equally see this as a process of healing. In Action Tantra, healing and purification are a significant aspect of the relationship to the deity through visualizations and mantra recitations. Its effectiveness arises from the intimate relationship between visualization, mantra, and the energy-winds. Approaching the healing process is relatively simple and extremely powerful if practiced with strong concentration, clarity, and an appreciation of the quality of the deity. Even after a brief period of mantra recitation the effect can be dramatic; the mind feels clearer and the energy in the body smoother and more fluid. The process of healing visualization begins by generating or invoking the presence of the deity to be practiced. The deity is usually visualized either in the space in front of the meditator, or a few centimeters above the crown of the head. The meditator often makes certain prayers and perhaps offerings as a preliminary practice to establish an open receptive relationship with the deity. Although traditionally this is done formally, through the recitation of the sadhana, the important thing is to make a personal connection. The disadvantage with reciting traditional prayers in an unfamiliar language can be that they may not generate the feeling of openness and devotion that needs to be present for the practice to be effective. A personal style that includes our own particular life issues, problems, emotional distresses, and sicknesses as part of this process may be important to include in our reflections. We may wish to clear certain obstacles or limitations, or to cultivate qualities to help us, but when we do not make this personal link the practice can be dry and without feeling. Healing and purification visualizations are usually of light and blissful nectar washing through the body, visualized as the practitioner simultaneously recites the mantra of the deity. This gradually cleanses, heals, or purifies the energy-winds, freeing them from blocked, sick, tired, toxic states. It can be helpful to imagine the sickness, emotional blocks or hindrances leaving the body as black substances. Visualizations of this kind are increasingly common in the Western healing world, particularly when working with diseases such as cancer. There are relatively few dangers, and these visualizations are simple to learn. Increasingly, our health, both physical and psychological, is affected by the environments in which we live and work. The intensity of emotional stress from work will invariably leave a residue within our nervous systems. The energetic quality of city life is often extremely unhealthy. Pollution pervades our world and feeds into our bodies through the air, our food, and our water. All these conditions contribute to a toxicity in our subtle energy that is extremely detrimental. Finding a simple way to clear this toxicity is important for our general state of health, as a way to prevent more severe illness. The purification practices of Action Tantra, while not clearing all the gross effects of pollution in our bodies, will certainly help to clear toxic energy arising from stress. Related Articles: Rob Preece on the Practice of Tonglen The Wisdom of Imperfection Spiritual Emergency For more information: Rob Preece has been a practicing Buddhist since 1973, principally within the Tibetan tradition. He has spent many years in intensive retreat in the Himalayas under the guidance of eminent Tibetan lamas. Preece has been working as a psychotherapist since 1987 and gives workshops on comparative Jungian and Buddhist psychology. An experienced meditation teacher and thangka painter, he lives in London and is the author of The Wisdom of Imperfection and The Psychology of Buddhist Tantra. Related Books

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Get Out of the Construction Business

Get out of the construction business! Stop building bridges across the raging waters of samsaric existence, attempting to reach the “far shore,” nirvana. Better to simply relax, at ease and carefree, in total naturalness, and just go with the primordial flow, however it occurs and happens. And remember this: whether or not you go with the flow, it always goes with you. Yet it is not so easy—or so it seems. First we must recognize this profound view, innate Great Perfection, then train in it, then attain unshakable stability in it. This is the path of practice, undistractedly maintaining the view or outlook to which one has been introduced and which one has recognized. Only then can realization progressively unfold. Thus, training implies nonmeditation, noneffort, and nondistraction, a vivid presence of mind. Innate wakefulness, nonconceptual wisdom, nondual primordial awareness—buddha-mind—is suddenly unsheathed the moment dualistic mind dissolves. This can occur gradually, through study, analysis, and spiritual practice, or suddenly, through the coming together of causes and conditions, such as when a ripe student encounters a totally realized master and inexplicably experiences a sudden awakening. Buddha-nature is pure, undefiled, unelaborated, unconditioned, transcending all concepts. It is not an object of dualistic thought and intellectual knowledge. It is, however, open to gnosis, intuition, the nondual apperception of intrinsic awareness itself, prior to or upstream of consciousness. Adventitious obscurations temporarily veil and, like clouds, obscure this pristine, sky-like, luminous fundamental nature or mind essence—also known as tathagatagarbha, buddha-nature. All conventional practices along the gradual path to liberation and enlightenment aim to uncover this innate wisdom by removing and dissolving the obscurations, revealing what has always been present. This is the relation between how things appear to be and how things actually are: in short, the two levels of truth, absolute and relative or conventional truth. According to these two truths, there are different levels of practice. The subtle and profound Vajrayana view emphasizes correctly recognizing the ultimate view, the wisdom inherent within oneself; this is the renowned vajra-shortcut elucidated in the Dzogchen tantras. The approach of the various sutra vehicles depends on, and utilizes, purification of dualistic consciousness, until the mind is eventually purified and freed of obscurations and defilements. The tantric approach depends upon, and from the outset utilizes, wisdom, nondual awareness, rather than mere mind. This is a crucial difference. The sublime view of Dzogpa Chenpo, the ultimate vehicle, is that everything is pure and perfect from the outset. This is the absolute truth, the supreme outlook or view of Buddhas, which implies that there is nothing that need be done or accomplished. Based on such recognition of how things actually are, the meditation of Dzogchen is nonmeditation, resting in the evenness of being, rather than doing any particular thing, beyond hope and fear, adopting and rejecting. The action or behavior of Dzogchen ensues from such transcendence, and is totally spontaneous, aimless, and appropriate to whatever conditions arise. The fruition of Dzogchen is the innate Great Perfection itself, inseparable from the very starting point of this swift and efficacious path: rigpa itself, one’s own true nature. —Nyoshul Khenpo Rinpoche adapted from Natural Great Perfection: Dzogchen Teachings and Vajra Songs Books by Nyoshul Khenpo Rinpoche

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When Difficulties are a Sign of Progress

The following excerpt is adapted from The Dark Red Amulet: Oral Instructions on the Practice of Vajrakilaya By Khenchen Palden Sherab and Khenpo Tsewang Dongyal In his Dzogchen teachings, Guru Padmasambhava urged his disciples to keep going beyond the boulders on the road of meditation. In Tibet, there are lots of boulders on the roads, but in America, we would probably say “the potholes in the streets.” Experiencing these difficulties is a sign that you are actually moving. Whether the road is smooth or bumpy, it is good that you are moving along. When you begin practices, these obstacles will manifest. At such times, maintain your strength and renew your commitment. You need stability and continuity to overcome these episodes. There are many ways in which signs can occur. Difficult situations can arise externally, internally, and secretly. Externally, things may happen that you did not expect, or things may not proceed the way you want them to. You may find that when one problem is solved, another problem arises. On the inner level, you might have health problems, discomfort, insomnia, long and involved dreams, and other unusual phenomena. The secret signs show up in the emotions. You may have more expectations and anxiety about the teachings. You may have doubts about the teacher and other sangha members, less certainty about what you are doing, or less compassion than before. These signs do not mean that you are losing the ability to love and be kind. When we come to these rough places in the road, we should always persevere, strengthen our practice, and keep moving toward our goal. Positive signs of achievement may also occur. Externally, there may be periods where everything goes along nicely. Inwardly, your body feels peaceful and healthy, and it functions well. Emotionally, you feel relaxed, and anger, jealousy, and other emotions do not disturb you as they did before. We should not cling to positive signs, but maintain the ultimate view in every situation from now until we attain enlightenment. The strongest and most positive signs of achievement—in Vajrakilaya practice, for example—are the three signs known as the body, speech, and mind signs of Vajrakilaya. Among the signs of the body are that the practitioner’s physical form becomes very bright, light, joyful, and peaceful. One has visions, dreams, or direct perceptions of the emanations of Vajrakilaya. Also, one’s phurba on the shrine might spark and radiate light. These phenomena were quite common in Tibet. Almost every monastery had special phurbas that danced on the shrine. These are all signs of the physical achievement of Vajrakilaya. The signs of the speech achievement of Vajrakilaya involve the practitioner’s speech becoming very powerful and perfect, and one’s expressions of wisdom spontaneously expanding. For example, there are yogis who can write beautiful dharma songs that send special messages to sentient beings. Hearing the Vajrakilaya mantras, such as the syllable HUNG, resounding from the shrine or from trees, mountains, or open space is another sign that one has achieved the speech of Vajrakilaya. The initial signs of achieving the mind of Vajrakilaya are temporary experiences of joy, peace, and a very relaxed state of mind. The ultimate sign of accomplishing the mind of Vajrakilaya is a perfect understanding of the nonduality of the awareness wisdom phurba and the immeasurable compassion phurba. Boundless compassion arises for all beings while the mind abides in the expanse of wisdom beyond concepts. The moment anything arises, it is liberated in the very space of its appearance. At the same time, unceasing great compassion arises for all beings without any expectation or reluctance. There are also special signs, such as a pure understanding that the teacher, the teachings, and the sangha are all part of the mandala of Vajra kilaya. Another is the ability to perform the four actions of Vajrakilaya: pacifying, increasing, overpowering, and subjugating. You become efficient at whatever you do. These are signs of having achieved a measure of the realization of Vajrakilaya. In any case, it is important not to become over-involved with the appearance of signs, whether good or bad, but simply continue to practice and meditate. Books Related to Vajrakilaya and Deity Practice

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Jeffrey Hopkins on Dealing with Demons

Dealing with Demons an excerpt from Tantric Techniques by Jeffrey Hopkins When we do deity yoga we need to be very careful that our unconscious contents don’t arise and mix into the practice or get projected. There could be no better guide through potential pitfalls than Jeffrey Hopkins, perhaps the most widely respected American scholar of Tibetan Buddhism, ex-translator for the Dalai Lama, and author extraordinaire. Tantric systems often treat as external forces what many other psychologies would consider internal; in Jungian terms, the wisdom behind this tantric externalization is that autonomous complexes are thereby confronted in a manner preventing identification with them and thus being overpowered by them. Also, the contemporary psychological exaggeration in which complexes are considered to be “mine” as if they were somehow within one’s sphere of control becomes impossible. On the negative side, excessive projection onto the environment could lead to misidentifying as external the source of what are actually internal problems with the result that one becomes paranoically concerned with outside forces—be these beings on a different plane or just other people in one’s environment—which are actually projections of one’s own afflictive emotions. Indeed, some practitioners seem caught in a process of external projection that they seek to relieve through the performance of rites. Still, I do not want to fall into the arrogance of the assumption that only projection is involved; I by no means feel justified in assuming that there are not harmful (or helpful) external entities on a subtle level. Many of the purificatory steps in Action Tantra are concerned with cleansing the environment and oneself of “obstructors”—these being protection through mantra and seal, self-protection, expelling obstructors in the body, creating vajra armor, dispelling obstructors, removing contamination, again dispelling obstructors, self-protection, and the seven steps of place-protection. The number of times that such rituals are performed suggests that we live in a world bombarded with counterproductive forces, whether their source be external or internal, and that ordinary life is buffeted and swayed by them. When these are understood to include autonomous complexes (as I think they should be), the picture is of a mind subject to a continuous barrage of influences of its own making, much like Freud’s depiction of the unconscious as a seething cauldron of repressed impulses seeking expression, necessary to be held in check, constantly afflicting one’s perceptions and interactions but, for the most part, working unseen havoc. The practitioners themselves, their place of practice, the water with which they bathe, the dirt (like a soap) they use to wash their bodies, their hair, the deity to be invited, and the offerings to be given to the deity are cleansed of the contamination of these forces. At the end of the preparations, all obstructors in the area are bound, and then in what would be redundant were it not for the near uncontrollability of such contents (remember Jung’s reference to their “impishness”), a fence is erected to keep out obstructors. This not being enough, a roof of interlaced vajras is erected on the fence, and a blazing mass of fire outside all of this closes off the area. Now that elements causing interference and interruption have been put at bay, the meditation can begin. It is said that on the night before the dawn of his enlightenment Shâkyamuni Buddha conquered with the meditative stabilization of love a host of demons, attractive and unattractive, that appeared to him. At this point in tantric meditation, however, a massive defense-structure to keep demons away is erected, albeit within a motivation of love and compassion. Perhaps these defenses are used to create a space in which a basically diseased mind can begin to create positive mental forces, but it is also possible that they are used within a context of projection and denial and are aimed at forestalling recognition of their origin within oneself. It is not difficult to imagine that someone attempting this yoga could become a rather nasty person to live with, constantly projecting inner impulses onto the environment and fighting against others in order to ward off evil forces that actually are that person’s own afflictive emotions. Still, the quasi-otherness with which these forces are treated constitutes recognition that despite the basic Buddhist doctrine that contamination is from within, the extent of this contamination is so great, so difficult to face, so intimately associated with our being and, when it becomes close to consciousness, so liable to overpower the personality, that it is necessary to treat them under the guise of otherness. Jung’s descriptions of the problems attendant upon inflation revealed the enormity of the enterprise of deity yoga; here, from within this traditional system itself, we gain a sense of the condition of the ordinary mind as swamped in a sea of karmically created forces. Again, a picture of the enormity of the task of purification that is at the heart of deity yoga is painted. Jeffrey Hopkins, PhD, served for a decade as the interpreter for the Dalai Lama. A Buddhist scholar and the author of more than thirty-five books, he is Professor Emeritus at the University of Virginia, where he founded the largest academic program in Tibetan Buddhist studies in the West. Books by Jeffry Hopkins

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Jamgon Kongtrul on the Creation Phase

In this excerpt taken from the Introduction to The Treasury of Knowledge, Book Eight, Part Three: The Elements of Tantric Practice, the translator gives an interesting synopsis of aspects of practice that are covered in greater detail in the text. Kongtrul discusses many details of the creation-phase practice, including suitable places, times and durations of practice, and the materials required for practice. For general purposes, most tantras advise staying “in a place that is secluded and pleasant” to accomplish general purposes. They also describe the types of places to be used for specific purposes. Kongtrul recommends that, above all, the place one chooses be a region in consonance with one’s own disposition. As for the times for practice, Kongtrul points out that most beginners will more easily achieve clarity in visualization by cultivating the practice at night. Once such clarity has been stabilized, one can meditate at any time. While in retreat, the practitioner must never be without certain essentials, such as qualified assistants, ritual articles, nourishing food and drink and adequate clothing. More than anything, the practitioner needs fortitude, which Kongtrul defines as “unrelenting perseverance that, despite adverse circumstances and even at the risk of one’s life, is never relaxed until the intended goal has been achieved.” Kongtrul then describes the actual practice of the creation phase. He outlines the steps needed to prepare the practitioner for the main practice: the offering of sacrificial food to dispel interferences; the visualization of a circle of protection; generating the mind of awakening to develop positive potential; and meditating on emptiness to cultivate pristine awareness. The main practice begins with the creation of the celestial palace of residence. According to most tantras, the base for the creation of the palace is the visualization of a tetrahedral dharmodaya and the tiers of the four elements. The celestial palace itself is generated from a syllable, an insignia, or the melting of a deity’s form. Some tantras describe charnel grounds along with particular trees, guardians, and so on, to be imagined outside the celestial palace. The next step is the creation of the entire array of the resident deities. Three main procedures are followed: creation by means of the five actual awakenings; creation in four vajra steps; and creation by means of three vajra rites. Creation by means of the five awakenings entails five steps that represent the five pristine awarenesses. The first is the generation of a moon, referred to as “awakening by means of mirror-like pristine awareness”; the second, of a sun, “awakening by the pristine awareness of sameness”; the third, of the seed-syllable and insignia, “awakening by the discerning pristine awareness”; the fourth, the merging of all these elements, “awakening by the pristine awareness of accomplishment”; and fifth, the full manifestation of the deity’s body, “awakening by the pristine awareness of the ultimate dimension of phenomena.” Creation in four vajra steps entails meditation on emptiness; generating a moon, sun, and seed-syllable from which light emanates and then converges; the full manifestation of the deity resulting from the convergence of the light and transformation of the seed-syllable; and visualization of three syllables at the deity’s three places. Creation by means of three vajra rites involves imagining the deity’s seed-syllable; the seed-syllable’s transformation into the deity’s insignia; and the insignia’s transformation into the full manifestation of the deity’s body. The majority of tantras include the step known as the placement of the three beings, the pledge-being, the pristine-awareness-being, and the contemplation-being. The pledge-being means the particular deity generated through the ritual, that is, the deity who is the object of meditation. At the heart of the pledge deity is the pristine-awareness-being, imagined as a deity identical to the pledge deity; as a deity differing from the pledge deity in colour, appearance, or number of faces and arms; or as an insignia arisen from a seed-syllable. At the heart of the pristine-awareness-being is the contemplation-being, visualized as the seed-syllable or insignia. In some tantras, the placement of the three beings is enacted for all the deities; in others, for only the principal deities. Kongtrul also reveals a number of steps that complete the creation-phase meditation. The step of absorbing the pristine-awareness mandala into oneself dispels the notion that oneself and the pristine-awareness deities are separate, and reinforces the “pride” of being indivisible from them. Conferral of initiation cleanses oneself of impurities and establishes the potency required to accomplish the ultimate goal of the tantra. The different types of sealing, such as the deity being sealed by the lord of a buddha family, ensure that meditation is carried out without misidentification. The tasting of nectar, offering, and praise, for which there are many variations from one tantra to the next, bring about the understanding that all objects of experience, the sensory pleasures, and so forth, are the pure expressions of bliss and emptiness. Kongtrul explains that all the varieties of the creation phase incorporate the four key elements of form, imagination, result, and transformative power. “Form” means meditating on forms that represent the aspects of awakening and generating clear images of these forms, thereby stopping impure appearances. “Imagination” means using the force of creative imagination to convert the visualized forms of awakening into reality. “Result” means meditating on the result, that is, the very goal to be attained, and thereby achieving that goal. “Transformative power” means turning the ordinary body and mind into pristine awareness by relying on the transformative powers of awakened beings. Among these, Kongtrul points out, the most important element for realization of the path is the transformative power of the vajra master combined with one’s own devotion to that master. In addition to those four key elements, creation-phase practice requires the development of clarity in visualization. To that end, one repeatedly brings forth clear images in both the coarse and subtle aspects of visualization. Moreover, one practices the meditation while firmly identifying with the deity. As one trains in the phase of creation, one must understand that the entire mandala is like an illusion, devoid of inherent nature, ultimately emptiness. Finally, one must manifest the pristine awareness in which the appearance of the deity (along with the certainty of being the deity) arises unceasingly as the essence of bliss and emptiness. The practitioner who grows tired from the effort of visualizing the deity is advised to introduce a new element: the recollection of the pure nature of the deity. This means to recall the symbolic meanings of the different elements in the visualization, which represent the great qualities of the buddhas. For example, in meditation on Avalokiteshvara, one would recall that his single face symbolizes the single taste of all phenomena, his four arms symbolize the four boundless qualities of love, compassion, joy, and equanimity, and so on. Bringing to mind the purity of these attributes counteracts the notion that the attributes of the path and those of the result are different. The phase of creation ends with the dissolution of the visualization. The mandala residence and resident deities dissolve into oneself. Then, one dissolves gradually into luminous clarity, once again to emerge as the deity.

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