February/March

The Moment Has Come for Media Reform
Rober W. McChesney

Low Power FM Radio Coming to the Rogue Valley
Suzi Aufderheide

Reframing Is Social Change
George Lakoff

Giving From The Heart
Marshall B. Rosenberg, Ph.D.

Social Security is The Least of Our Problems
Interview with Paul Krugman by Amy Goodman

Confessions of an Economic Hit Man
Interview with John Perkins by Amy Goodman

Meeting in Caracas in Defense of Humanity
Jane Franklin

Hyping Terror For Fun, Profit … And Power
Thom Hartmann

First They Came For The Terrorists …
Thom Hartmann

The Legacy of Pure Motivation
Chagdud Tulku Rinpoche

Cosmic Calendar
Salina Rain

BACK TO TOP

By Chagdud Tulku Rinpoche

The following teaching from Chagdud Tulku Rinpoche was excerpted from Sacred Voices of the Nyingma Masters, a recently published volume compiled by author and photographer Sandra Scales. This visually stunning book of highly unusual photographs, travel writing, and spiritual teachings from twenty-two Tibetan lamas was collected over the last twenty-five years. Ms. Scales shares an intimate glimpse into the setting of each meeting, from the Himalayas, to the Americas, to Europe, in her lyrical and evocative introductory essays.

Early in 1978, a friend took me to meet Chagdud Tulku Rinpoche, who was living in Kathmandu at the time. We walked through Boudhanath, stepping around the old Brahma bull with a twisted horn who spent his leisurely days languishing in the middle of the road. As we approached Rinpoche’s house, a melodious chant drifted from the windows, filling the street with the sound of his beautiful voice—a sound that has drawn me ever since. When we entered the room, Rinpoche was sitting on a narrow bed, his long black hair piled in a topknot like the siddhas’ of old, eyes partially closed as he sang. A rapt group of Tibetans sat crowded together on the floor, faces soft with delight as they listened. Rinpoche was singing folksongs, the stories of old Tibet woven in velvet tones. The room was steeped in warmth and happiness, and all those who came, including first-time visitors like myself, were greeted as old friends.

The only other Westerner present was a light-haired woman dressed in a faded black Tibetan dress. We spoke while she made tea for Rinpoche’s visitors using a rickety kerosene burner, and I learned that she had been living near the remote caves of Tsopema, a holy place of Guru Rinpoche. She had just recently come back to Kathmandu. I was perplexed and stared at her blankly as she spoke, wondering how this clearly refined woman could possibly live as a recluse in the rugged mountains of northern India. Her name was Jane, and she soon became my dear friend.

It seemed as though Jane worked unceasingly. From dawn until late into the night, she practiced, studied, cooked, listened to teachings and helped Rinpoche in whatever way she could. She had the strangest attitude. Instead of noticing how much she had accomplished or dwelling on how tired she was, Jane would speak about how she hadn’t done enough for Rinpoche and how she must do better. Although I didn’t know it then, she had the attitude one reads about in stories of great devotees but is quite rare to see.

In those days, Jane and I would go for tea in one of the dungeon-like restaurants of Boudhanath, ducking to enter through low carved doors built to fit Nepalese. We would sit and talk in the cramped darkness, eating dumplings called momos and sipping chai. Jane would be perfectly poised, somewhat enigmatic, always incredibly funny and insightful. She spoke like an intellectual from New York and dressed like a Tibetan from Kham. Even sitting there in a teashop with mud walls, drinking five-cent cups of tea, Jane couldn’t help displaying the manners of a queen. She later married Chagdud Rinpoche, and over the years her refinement and manners seemed to over-take every aspect of her life. She worked, practiced and devoted herself completely to him and through his guidance was trans-formed into an outstanding student, dharma representative and teacher.

Rinpoche and Jane came to the United States in 1979 and established a Buddhist center in a small Oregon town by a river. From this remote place, Rinpoche’s dharma activities rapidly expanded. As his students grew in number, centers eventually opened all over the country, from California and New Mexico to New York and Alaska.

Rinpoche gave the Nyingma teachings to thousands of people. Never allowing unfamiliar students to think of the ceremonies associated with practice as mysterious rituals, he explained the power of transformation embedded in every aspect of Vajrayana Buddhism. He clarified and transmitted to his non-Tibetan students the deeper meaning of each offering, hand gesture and ring of the bell. He brought the Nyingma teachings directly to our hearts, heads and hands.

By 1995 Rinpoche’s activities in the United States were well established, and he moved to Brazil to be closer to his South American disciples. Seeking his teaching for this book led me to the unexpectedly peaceful southern region of Brazil. One of Rinpoche’s students met me at the airport, and we drove to Três Coroas, where his center is located. Accompanied by the muted beat of samba music from the truck’s radio, we drove through meandering foothills carpeted in greenery. Each turn of the road brought another low mountain into view as if we were driving through a natural maze. Finally, in the midst of tranquility, Khadro Ling appeared to my impatient eyes like a vivid red jewel. We pulled up behind three large buses filled with Brazilians, and my companion explained that the doors of the temple were always open to visitors. Although these people were tourists, they showed a sincere reverence as they explored the site; Rinpoche often said that many Brazilians have a natural affinity for the spiritual.

As we entered Rinpoche’s house above the temple, I saw Jane, now known as Chagdud Khadro, a title of respect given to her by Rinpoche. She was just inside the doorway, waving her finger and scolding a very sweet, fluffy puppy. After greeting me in her gracious way, she served tea and we sat together as we had done so many years before. Khadro spoke about Rinpoche’s most recent activities and teachings throughout Brazil and Uruguay. She men-tioned that just the night before, he had opened a rock concert with twenty minutes of Tibetan chanting. The audience of forty thousand was enraptured by his voice just as the Tibetans had been the day I first met him.

Chagdud Khadro took me to Rinpoche. Around us, a constant stream of people moved in and out of Rinpoche’s house as they worked on an array of projects—translating Buddhist texts, making statues and tormas, sewing text covers. There was no room in his home that wasn’t filled with the constant buzz of dharma work in progress, and I felt a sense of déjà vu. I had to remind myself that I wasn’t in Nepal, Oregon or California. The Brazilian students were unfailingly kind and polite, as are the students at all Chagdud Gonpa centers.

The tiny white poodle had the run of the house. She scampered from room to room, periodically searching for Rinpoche and stretching out in his lap like a human child. Rinpoche had a special love of dogs, and his centers were often filled with newly rescued animals. Rehabilitated strays would be nursed back to health and spend contented days following Rinpoche around before being adopted by his students.

No matter where I met Rinpoche, whether in a small cement room in Nepal, the lush forests of Oregon, or a traditional Buddhist temple set in the Brazilian hills, he carried the same constantly expanding sphere of love and dharma activity. His care and compassion for everyone who came to him always seemed to yield the comfort of a practical solution. In the face of my own or others’ anguish, he offered the enveloping kindness a person would expect only from her own mother.

Now I think back to the weeks in Brazil with longing and gratitude, since these teachings were the last I received from Rinpoche. When the preparation of this chapter began, Chagdud Tulku Rinpoche’s songs rang across the skies of Brazil. Now that blue vastness is silenced by his passing. And we who love him pray his extraordinary voice will soon be heard again.

The Legacy of Pure Motivation

Rinpoche, you have lived and taught in many countries over the years. In your experience, what teachings are most important for all of us to hear?
Of all the Buddhist teachings, perhaps none is more important than that on pure motivation. If I were to leave only one legacy, it would be the wisdom of pure motivation. If I were to be known by one title, I would like it to be “motivation lama.” Such motivation begins with compassion for the predicament of sentient beings. It culminates in the enlightened manifestation of spontaneous, uninterrupted benefit for those beings.

To establish the motivation of a bodhisattva, we begin by cultivating compassion, the powerful wish to alleviate suffering wherever it arises. The aspiration that sentient beings find happiness, both temporary and ultimate, adds the element of love. We recognize that all beings are equal in having been our mothers and are alike in their wish for happiness—no matter how misguided or frustrated their methods of obtaining it may be. This recognition serves as the starting point for equanimity. Vast equanimity arises with the realization that the essential nature of all beings is buddha nature; and although that nature goes unrecognized beneath layers of karmic obscurations and habitual patterns, beings’ potential for enlightenment is never diminished, stained or lost. We can rejoice in this underlying buddha nature of beings, just as we can rejoice when their virtue brings them happiness. This is the source of spiritual joy.

The four qualities of compassion, love, equanimity and joy can manifest spon-taneously from our buddha nature and suddenly motivate us to seek the spiritual path. Then, in a kind of upward spiral, when we hear, contemplate and meditate on the teachings about pure motivation, we are inspired to cultivate these four immeasurable qualities more deeply. At no point on the path of dharma do these qualities or the motivation to develop them become irrelevant. Rather, they begin to inform our every action of body, speech and mind. They are supported by vows: our refuge vow to refrain from harm, the bodhisattva vow to seek the enlightenment of all beings, and the Vajrayana vow to maintain nondual recognition of the essential purity of all phenomena.

In the moment that our heart moves toward compassion for all beings, our motivation expands toward the all-embracing motivation of a bodhisattva. Unable to bear the suffering of others, vowing to work constantly for the welfare of all, the bodhisattva seeks enlightenment in order to lead others to that same state. If we cultivate the bodhisattva’s pure intention, then every aspect of our spiritual practice, whether of purification or generating merit, takes on new meaning. By taming our own minds and accomplishing virtue, we can powerfully influence and benefit others. By following the superb examples of the bodhisattvas before us, we cut through self-clinging and freely offer to others whatever is positive. Our compassion matures and ultimately gives rise to unobscured, sky-like awareness.

Through the selfless motivation of a bodhisattva, we eventually accomplish the two benefits—compassionate manifestation for others and realization of mind’s true nature for ourselves. That is why all Vajrayana sadhana practices open with preliminary prayers that establish our bodhisattva motivation. In the main practice, the deities, peaceful and wrathful alike, embody the qualities of compassion. Likewise, all sadhanas close with the sealing of pure motivation, when, through prayers of dedication, the merit of the practice is offered for the benefit of sentient beings. Thus, each stage of the sadhanas reestablishes great-minded motivation. Without this, practice is hollow, a mere pretense.

We read in the teachings that until all ignorance ends, the suffering of beings will continue. And for myself, it does seem that as soon as I have managed one painful situation, another is often upon me. How are we to develop great-minded motivation for others when we are inundated by such experiences?

Suffering is a powerful motivating force. By recognizing the cycles of our affliction, the depths of sorrow, we become inspired to uproot the cause by purifying our attachment and aversion and the endless array of mental obscurations and poisons that result from them. Suffering motivates us to learn what to accept and reject, to refine our conduct, to cultivate a connection to what is truly beneficial. Eventually, our deluded self-interest is transformed into the discerning self-interest of the spiritual practitioner who does not choose to be pulled, helplessly, repeatedly, into the undertow of samsaric suffering.

As our spiritual practice evolves, meditation enables us to cut through our attachment and aversion. We then experience the unfolding of our innate compassion, and our motivation begins to derive strength from altruistic concern for others’ suffering. We are not the only ones in this ocean of samsara; countless others are sinking into dark depths beyond our seeing, beyond our imagination, in realms invisible to us, realms of unbearable pain.

If our mother were drowning or trapped in a burning house, would we not rush to help her? The teachings of Lord Buddha tell us that these countless beings are not distant strangers. All of them in some past lifetime have been our own kind mother who allowed us to take birth from her body, who protected our life, taught us and served our childhood needs. Now these past mothers have forgotten their relationship to us, and we likewise have forgotten their kindness. So we appear to each other as friends, enemies, strangers, colleagues and so on in an infinite spectrum of relationships. Ignorant of the past, we participate in the drama of the present and are oblivious, indifferent or even harmful toward each other.

My motivation is far from perfect. Though I strive to maintain pure intention, self-interest seeps in everywhere.

It is naive to think that without guidance we can fully understand the Buddhist teachings or completely transform our self-centered motivation into the pure, transcendent intent of the buddhas and bodhisattvas. For this reason, we rely on the infallible wisdom and example of Buddha Shakyamuni; on his methods—the dharma; and on those who have an affinity for virtue and are motivated to practice the Buddha’s teachings—the sangha. We seek out teachers accomplished in knowledge and meditation, and listen to their words. We ask questions if necessary, then contemplate and explore the meaning of the teachings until we have a genuine intellectual understanding. Finally, we meditate, seeking a direct experience that is beyond mere intellect.

When the steps of listening, contem-plation and meditation are applied to the teachings on motivation, we learn its true meaning and how enlightened beings have exemplified it. Then we check our own motivation in everything we do, say or think. If we check carefully, we may find that the five poisons of ignorance, selfish attach-ment, anger, pride and jealousy taint even our virtuous activities. Recognizing such stains and purifying them is extremely important, because the outcomes of our actions correspond to our motivation. For example, two people might perform the same act of virtue, one with pure motivation, the other with motivation blemished by pride and competi-tiveness. The effects of the two acts will be different—the one performed with pure motivation will result in greater and more long lasting benefit.

We all want suffering to cease, Rinpoche, but the world is ravaged by it. It is so painful to watch. How should we think about this?

The suffering of the six realms is limitless. Of the countless beings trapped in the endless cycles of samsaric rebirth, many experience a depth and duration of suffering that we cannot comprehend. We must not deny or turn away from this; and yet, as masters of meditation, holders of realization know, suffering is illusory, samsara is illusory—the whole display of relative reality is illusory. Nowhere can we find phenomena that are permanent, uncom-pounded and true. In our ordinary world, everything has come together, and everything will fall apart. Nothing lasts.

Our Lord Buddha told us that pheno-mena are like dreams, bubbles or optical illusions, like phantom cities, mirages, flickers of light or echoes. We ourselves are mere apparitions participating in a momentary, magical display even as our body, speech, thoughts and emotions constantly change and vanish.

At the moment of death, which repre-sents our most dramatic confrontation with impermanence, we find ourselves stripped of everything, in a state of naked awareness that we may or may not recognize as the very nature of our mind. If we do not recognize it, the karmic forces that we have generated in countless lifetimes will propel us toward a new rebirth. Our cycling in samsara will never stop until we penetrate the illusion and recognize its unchanging, absolute nature.

But if everything is illusory, a dream, then one could think, why bother to develop good qualities?

Right now, this illusion is our powerful and inescapable reality, and we haven’t yet cut through our fixation on it. We can improve the illusion through virtuous conduct and the merit it generates. We can awaken from the illusion by hearing, contemplating and meditating on the wisdom teachings. But if we are careless and indifferent, we risk losing our precious spiritual opportunity and sinking deeper into obscuration, benefiting no one, neither others nor ourselves.

For this reason, we should return to the bodhisattva’s motivation as our aspiration, as our measure of accomplishment, as our compass on the path. When we are tempted by worldly indulgence, we look at the example of the buddhas and bodhisattvas before us, at their tireless dedication to the welfare and liberation of sentient beings, their unflagging aspiration to reach enlightenment. We pray that our own pure motivation will only increase and become their all-encompassing compassion and wisdom. We invoke their blessings so that we may find ultimate realization.

When we are discouraged and beset with obstacles, we bring to mind the countless beings in samsara and think, “Oh, my sorrowful mothers, trapped in the web of samsaric delusion, if I have obstacles as a spiritual practitioner, how much greater are yours? If I abandon you, how will you ever find release? If I abandon my quest for enlightenment, how many of you will be bereft of a spiritual connection?” Then we pray that we will fully accomplish our training as a bodhisattva, benefiting beings constantly until the realms of samsara are empty. In this way, the teachings on motivation will unlock our hearts and minds now and guide us until we attain buddhahood. Then, the fulfillment of our enlightened intention will be spontaneous and never ending.

Sandra Scales holds a doctorate in Tibetan Buddhist psychology from Union Graduate School and a fine arts degree in photography from the San Francisco Art Institute. She lived in Nepal and India for eight years while pursuing her doctoral studies and has visited regularly since, studying Tibetan Buddhism and its attendant culture.

Sacred Voices of the Nyingma Masters
By Sandra Scales
Hardcover; 248 Pages
ISBN 1-881847-35-7
Padma Publishing / (530) 623-3706
info@padmapublishing.com
www.padmapublishing.com