The Collected Works of Chögyam Trungpa: Volume Five (28 page)

S
HERAB
C
HÖDZIN
K
OHN

Nova Scotia, 1992

Part One

LIFE OF NAROPA SEMINAR I

New York, 1972

ONE

Naropa and Us

W
E ARE GOING
to discuss the life and teachings of Naropa fully and completely, but not fully and completely in the way you would like. We are going to discuss the outlines of Naropa’s life and his relationship with his guru, Tilopa, and the twelve acts of repentance he had to go through. We will also discuss his mahamudra experience.
Mahamudra
means “great symbol”; it is connected with seeing the phenomena of the world as they are. We will close our discussion with the six teachings of Naropa.

I find it necessary to express my negativities about presenting such potent—two hundred percent potent—teachings to the people of the continent of North America, or to the West altogether. Nobody here seems to be ready for this material at all. People are relating with the starting point of practice, and as far as we know, nobody in America has a complete understanding of even the hinayana level of Buddhism. People have hardly any understanding at all. They have a completely schizophrenic attitude: they conceive of a divine, enlightened personality that is opposed to their confused version of themselves. As a result, people regard themselves as abandoned people, completely bad people. Or else they might have some hope, but that again is based on some kind of spiritual pride that does not leave any leeway for confusion at all. So we’re hopeless. I’m afraid we’re hopeless.

Isn’t that a terrible, grim picture? Extremely grim. We are hopeless, absolutely confused. We are so confused we do not even know why we are here listening to this. We wonder why. We are extremely confused, bewildered. What can we do about that? Let alone talking about Naropa? Naropa achieved something. He found his way in the end. Once he became a disciple of Tilopa, he was okay. But before he became a disciple of Tilopa, he was confused, as much as we are.

Spiritual practice is stepping out of the duality of me-ness and myness as opposed to otherness, of who is me and who is not me. But in addition to this we have the further confusion of gurus laying their trips on us. Or, as they are called in America, guh-
ROOS
. That particular species of human beings we call guh-
ROOS
are mysterious. They save you. They tell you they save you entirely, but on the other hand, they tell you they still have to work on themselves. We are confused. They are broke. It’s a hopeless situation.

If we want to write essays about that for our Ph.D., we won’t be able to, because we are so confused. Even if we want to become professional gurus, we won’t be able to make head or tail of it. Of course a lot of people decide to “make a journey to the East,” to live with the natives: study with them, eat with them, and shit with them, whether they use toilet tissue or not. They are serious, obviously, and faithful in playing Burmese games, Japanese games, and so on. They get right into it—sit with the Orientals, eat with them, shit with them. We are getting back a lot of anthropological messages about these “primitive” societies. It seems that though they are primitive, their spiritual understanding is much higher than ours. In any case, these are the trips we have going on.

I would like to call your attention to the following passage from
The Life and Teaching of Naropa:

Once when ’Jig-med grags-pa (Abhayakirti) [Naropa],
¹
with his back to the sun, was studying the books on grammar, epistemology, spiritual precepts, and logic, a terrifying shadow fell on them. Looking round he saw behind him an old woman with thirty-seven ugly features: her eyes were red and deep-hollowed; her hair was foxcoloured and dishevelled; her forehead large and protruding; her face had many wrinkles and was shrivelled up; her ears were long and lumpy; her nose was twisted and inflamed; she had a yellow beard streaked with white; her mouth was distorted and gaping; her teeth were turned in and decayed; her tongue made chewing movements and moistened her lips; she whistled when she yawned; she was weeping and tears ran down her cheeks; she was shivering and panting for breath; her complexion was darkish blue; her skin rough and thick; her body bent and askew; her neck curved; she was humpbacked; and, being lame, she supported herself on a stick. She said to Naropa: “What are you looking into?”

“I study the books on grammar, epistemology, spiritual precepts, and logic,” he replied.

“Do you understand them?”

“Yes.”

“Do you understand the words or the sense?”

“The words.”

The old woman was delighted, rocked with laughter, and began to dance, waving her stick in the air. Thinking that she might feel still happier, Naropa added: “I also understand the sense.” But then the woman began to weep and tremble and she threw her stick down.

“How is it that you were happy when I said that I understood the words, but became miserable when I added that I also understood the sense?”

“I felt happy because you, a great scholar, did not lie and frankly admitted that you only understood the words. But I felt sad when you told a lie by stating that you understood the sense, which you do not.”

“Who, then, understands the sense?”

“My brother.”

“Introduce me to him wherever he may be.”

“Go yourself, pay your respects to him, and beg him that you may come to grasp the sense.”

With these words, the old woman disappeared like a rainbow in the sky.

[
The Life and Teaching of Naropa,
trans. Herbert V. Guenther (Boston & London: Shambhala Publications, 1986), pp. 24–25]

Naropa was studying epistemology, logic, philosophy, and grammar. That’s where we are at. Of course, everybody is also extremely involved with art now. Everybody is trying to work out their artistic self-expression. They might hear the teachings of Naropa in connection with art; they might see it in terms of “the art of the Tibetan teachings.” Then there is also logic, the question of how the teachings relate with each other, how not and how so. We are involved with logic as well. It could be said that everybody here is in the first stage of Naropa’s experience, involved in philosophy and art, as well as epistemology. We are on the same level that Naropa was experiencing before he attained enlightenment. We want an answer; we want definitions. We want a fixed situation rather than something fluid. We feel that concepts are very badly needed.

In this seminar, you are not going to be able to relate with concepts. You’re not going to get something out of studying logic, epistemology, grammar, and philosophy—which were a failure for Naropa as well. That is why he had to go through twelve stages of punishment, because of his concepts. We are going to go through the same journey that Naropa went through; we are going to take a tour of Naropa’s agony. In some ways, it is going to be like Disneyland. You go through some tunnel and you come out; you’re delivered to somewhere else. You see exciting things and you come out on the other end. But in this case, it is related with psychological problems. It is going to be more deathening, more hellish or heavenish. We start at Naropa’s starting point of searching for goodness and trying to achieve divinity.

TWO

Genuine Madness and Pop Art

And he proceeded onwards in an Eastern direction.

These were the visions he had:

When he had come to a narrow footpath that wound between rocks and a river, he found a leper woman without hands and feet blocking the path.

“Do not block the way, step aside.”

“I cannot move. Go round if you are not in a hurry, but if you are, jump over me.”

Although he was full of compassion, he closed his nose in disgust and leaped over her. The leper woman rose in the air in a rainbow halo and said:

Listen, Abhayakirti:

The Ultimate in which all become the same

Is free of habit-forming thought and limitations.

How, if still fettered by them,

Can you hope to find the Guru?

At this the woman, the rocks, and the path all vanished and Naropa fell into a swoon on a sandy plateau. When he recovered consciousness he thought: “I did not recognize this to be the Guru, now I shall ask anyone I meet for instruction.” Then he got up and went on his way praying.

On a narrow road he met a stinking bitch crawling with vermin. He closed his nose and jumped over the animal, which then appeared in the sky in a rainbow halo and said:

All living beings by nature are one’s parents.

How will you find the Guru, if

Without developing compassion

On the Mahayana path

You seek in the wrong direction?

How will you find the guru to accept you

When you look down on others?

After these words the bitch and the rocks disappeared and Naropa again swooned on a sandy plateau.

When he came to, he resumed his prayers and his journey, and met a man carrying a load.

“Have you seen the venerable Tilopa?”

“I have not seen him. However, you will find behind this mountain a man playing tricks on his parents. Ask him.”

When he had crossed the mountain, he found the man, who said:

“I have seen him, but before I tell you, help me to turn my parents’ head.”

But Abhayakirti thought: “Even if I should not find the venerable Tilopa, I cannot associate with a scoundrel, because I am a prince, a Bhikshu, and a scholar. If I seek the Guru I will do so in a respectable way according to the dharma.”

Everything happened as before, the man receded into the centre of a rainbow halo and said:

How will you find the Guru, if

In this doctrine of Great Compassion

You do not crack the skull of egotism

With the mallet of non-Pure-Egoness and nothingness?

The man disappeared like a rainbow and Naropa fell senseless to the ground. When he woke up there was nothing and he walked on praying as he went.

Beyond another mountain he found a man who was tearing the intestines out of a human corpse and cutting them up. Asked whether he had seen Tilopa, he answered:

“Yes, but before I show him to you, help me to cut up the intestines of this decayed corpse.”

Since Naropa did not do so, the man moved away into the centre of a rainbow-coloured light and said:

How will you find the Guru, if

You cut not Samsara’s ties

With the unoriginatedness of the Ultimate

In its realm of non-reference?

And the man disappeared like a rainbow.