Ananya Sri Ram – USA
The Seven Points of Mind Training, attributed to the Indian Buddhist teacher Atisha Dipankara Shrijnana (982-1054 CE), was orally passed down until they were written down by the Kamdampa teacher Lang-ri Thangpa (1054-1123). As the teachings became more widely known, they were summarized by Geshe Chekawa Yeshe Dorje (1101-1175). In the book, Training the Mind and Cultivating Loving-Kindness by Chogyam Trungpa, one is introduced to the ancient text through a more modern view.
The book, Training the Mind, by Trungpa Rinpoche consists of fifty-nine slogans and is reminiscent of Nagarjuna’s The Precious Garland as well Theosophy’s own The Voice of the Silence. Perhaps the similarity is in the simplicity of the teachings themselves which allow anyone from any walk of life to study them. In Trungpa’s introduction he writes, “In my own case, having studied philosophy a lot . . . I was relieved that Buddhism was so simple and that you could actually do something about it. You can actually practice. You can just follow the book and do as it says, which is extraordinarily powerful and such a relief.” While this may be inspiring to any student wanting to study such teachings, it is the practice which makes things more difficult.
- This first point mentioned in Training the Mind is to maintain awareness of the following preliminary truths:
- The reality of death, that it comes suddenly and without warning;
- The entrapment of karma—that whatever you do, whether virtuous or not, only further entraps you in the chain of cause and effect;
- The intensity and inevitability of suffering for yourself and for all sentient beings.
Contemplating these four axioms, we can see that we have the choice to use these truths as an opportunity for growth within our own personal lives or to ignore them and walk in a state of darkness and despair. Realizing the preciousness of human life---as we are human and have no other example of living as any other species—we slowly come to understand that it is not just human life that is precious, but the life of every sentient being, seen and unseen. However, we can only experience this preciousness from the experience of being human. Being human gives us the unique opportunity to have a brain that can create a concept like consciousness, become aware of it, and even fathom it!
Because of such a capacity, various sages from different walks of life have introduced us to the experience of bodhichitta or awakened mind-heart. To have a glimpse of bodhichitta, we must come to understand that the experience we are living at this very moment, not just for ourselves, but all beings, is limited and can come to end at any time and without warning. The entrapment of karma, is a distraction and often leads us to forget to remember death (memento mortis.) Karma is inevitable in this physical existence. We ourselves are walking karmic forces, playing out whatever role we need to and experiencing whatever lessons we need to learn. We lessen the intensity of suffering for ourselves and all beings by being aware of the actions we take, the thoughts we have, and the words we say. This, however, is done by maintaining awareness of the preciousness of life, softening our stance in the world, and living a life of compassion. In this way, there is no beginning and no end to this process. Eventually, cycle after cycle, we come to a place where we live beyond the limits of life and death and therefore karmic circumstances.
According to Trungpa Rinpoche, bodhichitta takes two forms. There is relative bodhichitta and absolute or ultimate bodhichitta. Relative bodhichitta is “connected with the paramita of discipline. It has been said that if you don’t have discipline, it is like trying to walk without any legs. You cannot attain liberation without discipline. . . it means having good conduct . . . and the basic experience of realizing you could have a tender heart in any situation. Relative bodhichitta is related with how we start to learn to love each other and ourselves. That seems to be the basic point. . . it is very hard for us to learn to love if it means purely giving love without expecting anything in return.”
This last statement cannot be stressed enough. We tend to feel that love is a two-way street. That if we love someone or do something for someone because we love them, that there should be love given in return. But love, like compassion, in its truest sense is a quality without conditions. This is why such virtues are compared to the sun. The sun shines on everyone and everything. It does not pick and choose. Nor does it expect anything in return. Can we love in this way? Many of us would say we do when it comes to our children or our pets, or even our partners. But then the question arises, why do we unconditionally love only certain people and not others? The very fact that we love some people more than others negates bodhichitta. On the other hand, we may feel such immense love for our loved ones that perhaps we can extend that love to others everyday as a form of practice. (There is nothing in our experience that is for naught!)
Ultimate bodhichitta “is based on developing the paramita of generosity . . the notion of generosity means not holding back but giving constantly. Generosity is self-existing openness, complete openness .” Trungpa goes on to state that there are traditionally three types of generosity—the usual generosity we show to others through material goods and providing comfort to others; the second being the gift of fearlessness: “You reassure others and teach them that they don’t have to feel completely tormented and freaked out about their existence. You help them to see that there is basic goodness and spiritual practice, that there is a way for them to sustain their lives.” The third is the gift of dharma which is to show others there is a path through discipline, meditation, and wisdom that can “open up other people’s minds. In that way their closedness, wretchedness, and small thinking can be turned into a larger vision.”
The state of absolute bodhichitta is attained when we are able to go beyond the consciousness of the senses (hearing, seeing, touching/feeling, tasting, smelling, and mind and the klesha or the energy which ties it altogether and keeps it active) and “rest in the eighth consciousness or alaya.” Alaya, as some may know, means “abode” or “dwelling place” or even “home.” In reality, it is a consciousness where there is no differentiation. Because it is beyond the consciousness of the senses, beyond our perceptions and judgments about what we like and don’t like. It is this abode, this dwelling that is beyond our identity as “I am this and you are that.”
In The Voice of the Silence, H. P. Blavatsky writes “Alas, alas, that all men should possess Alaya, be one with the great Soul, and that possessing it, Alaya should so little avail them!” Trungpa writes “The idea of resting one’s mind in the basic alaya is to free oneself from the sevenfold mind and rest in simplicity and in clear mind and non-discriminating mind.” It would seem to me, based on HPB’s statement and Trungpa’s teaching that alaya is not an actual place, but a state that we all come from. It is not separate for each of us. It is the underlying unity of our consciousness in this material world. Some equate it with basic goodness. It is basic goodness which lies under all our conditioning.
Trungpa encourages anyone wanting to practice mind training to first start with accepting where one is at instead of running away from ourselves. Is it possible for us to look at the opinions we have or the actions we take and just note them without judgment or evasion? Krishnamurti states that by observing our mind, there is a change which takes place just by the very fact that we have observed it. Physics has shown this scientifically to be true. It is also true that the more we become aware of our desires, the less intensity they may have. Slowly we become aware of the emptiness of the nature of desire.
Coming back to the preciousness of human life, we are reminded that using our clearer mind, we are shaping our everyday mind. Perhaps we must ask ourselves what kind of mind we want and work toward it. Meditation is key in this endeavor. Regular practice has shown to slow the mind down. It just takes discipline. Sitting with a busy mind can be incredibly uncomfortable because one begins to feel the pressure of needing to do something to relieve the tension. Is there a way to relieve that tension by allowing ourselves to fall into the field beyond right and wrong and black and white? Is it possible to look objectively at the activity around us and see it is nothing more than energy that has to move? We are the ones who label it and decide whether it is good or bad.
Boris de Zirkoff once wrote, “The test of theosophical interest lies in the student's ability to lay aside the ties of his personal life for the sake of an impersonal dedication to a Universal Ideal; to renounce the futility of personal interests in favor of selfless labor for a world goal; and to immerse his own personal being in the sense of universal freedom, which comes to all those who can rise above the tumult of worldly affairs, into the boundless spaces of universal concern.” These words are not very different than what is require in the practice of bodhichitta. No matter what path we follow, the instructions seem to be the same: we need to lay aside our personal desires, work selflessly for all, while continually rising above the chaos that surrounds us lest we contribute to it. The path may be different, but the goal is the same.
