Chogyam Trunpga Rinpoche

Did the so-called Sarmoung Brotherhood, from which George Ivanovich Gurdjieff claimed to have learned so much, exist.  What about their monastery he said was somewhere in the “heart of Asia"? It's hard to say because neither is attested outside Gurdjieff.  Still, Gurdjieff does provide in the same book where he speaks of them  (Meetings with Remarkable Men [1963]) other opportunities to test his general veracity on such subjects.  I refer to another secret “brotherhood” with another monastery of which Gurdjieff claims to have had both direct and indirect contact,  namely, the Essenes whose main monastery he claimed was on the shores of the Dead Sea.  Gurdjieff tells how  his old teacher Father Evlissi (or Bogachevsky) was himself an Essene and assistant to the abbot of the main monastery on the Dead Sea.  The only problem is, the Essenes and their monastery ceased to exist in ancient times, rendering almost everything Gurdjieff says about them and Father Evlissi not only fanciful but impossible.

Master's thesis at the University of Colorado Boulder, 2017

This thesis examines the role of translation and the formation of Vajrayāna Buddhist subjects in religious transmission through an analysis of the tantric Buddhist ritual practice, the Sādhana of Mahāmudrā (SOM). Reported to be revealed as a Mind treasure (དགོང་གཏེར་) by the Tibetan reincarnate teacher Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche (ཆོས་རྒྱམ་དྲུང་པ་; 1940-1987) while on retreat in Bhutan in 1968, and subsequently translated into English by Trungpa Rinpoche and his student Richard Arthure (1940- ), the SOM played an important role in the early process of the transnational transmission of Vajrayāna Buddhism to the ‘West.’ Nevertheless, after more than fifty years of practice by individuals and communities around the globe, the role of the SOM in this process has yet to be studied. Moreover, scholarship on the role of Vajrayāna rituals in contemporary religious transmission is also in its nascency. In this thesis, I aim to address this lacuna through a study of the revelation of this text, its strategic translation, and its role in the making of Vajrayāna Buddhist subjects. Given that the SOM emerged at a pivotal moment as Trungpa Rinpoche re-evaluated how to best teach the buddhadharma in the ‘West,’ I argue that its partially domesticating translation was a strategic means of inducting ‘Western’ students into a foreign ritual world. As such, I argue that the SOM was a skillful method to introduce ‘Western,’ non-Buddhist students to the Vajrayāna through an iterative process of ritual enactment and training in a subjectivity both described and prescribed within the text. As such, in this thesis I analyze the important role that the SOM played in the early formation of Vajrayāna subjectivities as Vajrayāna Buddhism came to North America and in preparing the ground for the later teachings that Trungpa Rinpoche would introduce to his students. This thesis informs my broader research question: how are new subjectivities created in the process of religious transmission across radically different cultural contexts? More generally, it contributes to emergent conversations around performativity in Buddhist ritual practice and will also prove relevant to those working on the intersection of ritual practice and religious transmission in other traditions.

Did the so-called Sarmoung Brotherhood, from which George Ivanovich Gurdjieff claimed to have learned so much, exist.  What about their monastery he said was somewhere in the “heart of Asia"? It's hard to say because neither is attested outside Gurdjieff.  Still, Gurdjieff does provide in the same book where he speaks of them  (Meetings with Remarkable Men [1963]) other opportunities to test his general veracity on such subjects.  I refer to another secret “brotherhood” with another monastery of which Gurdjieff claims to have had both direct and indirect contact,  namely, the Essenes whose main monastery he claimed was on the shores of the Dead Sea.  Gurdjieff tells how  his old teacher Father Evlissi (or Bogachevsky) was himself an Essene and assistant to the abbot of the main monastery on the Dead Sea.  The only problem is, the Essenes and their monastery ceased to exist in ancient times, rendering almost everything Gurdjieff says about them and Father Evlissi not only fanciful but impossible.

Chögyam Trungpa (1939-1987) was one of the first Tibetans who taught his religious tradition to Westerners in Great Britain and North America. In the 1970/80s, Trungpa developed a secular path to enlightenment, which he called Shambhala Training. Complex transcultural dynamics shaped the creation of Shambhala Training as an innovative set of practices and teachings that Trungpa understood being neither Western nor Eastern. Shambhala teachings, practices, and aesthetics show indeed different cultural influences from Great Britain, Tibet, Japan, and North American counterculture. Moreover, Trungpa intended Shambhala Training to be a secular, but sacred meditation path that everyone could practice irrelevant of his religious orientation. The book argues that the transformations of Tibetan Buddhism visible in the development of Trungpa’s Shambhala Training are not to be seen as a mere cultural adaptation to the Western context, but are best to be understood as a genuine innovation born out of a situation of cultural hybridity.

Die chinesische Okkupation Tibets in der zweiten Hälfte des 20. Jahrhunderts löste eine Fluchtwelle aus. Für einige Tibeter und buddhistische Gelehrte führte der Weg über Indien auch nach Europa und Nordamerika. Chögyam Trungpa (1939-1987) war unter den ersten buddhistischen Lehrern, die den tibetischen Buddhismus an europäische und nordamerikanische Schüler vermittelten. Dabei war er stets auf der Suche nach neuen Ausdrucksmöglichkeiten, um sein religiöses Erbe in zeitgemäße Formen zu übersetzen, die seine westlichen Schüler verstehen und in ihren Alltag integrieren konnten. Aus diesem Bestreben heraus entwickelte und lehrte Trungpa in den 1970/80er Jahren einen säkularen, aber heiligen Meditations- und Erleuchtungsweg, den er Shambhala Training nannte.
Das Buch bietet eine historische Mikrostudie zum Leben und Wirken Chögyam Trungpa und seiner Entwicklung und Präsentation von Shambhala Training. Zwar liegt der Fokus auf Trungpas Tätigkeit als buddhistischer Lehrer in Nordamerika, dennoch vermag die Studie die komplexen transkulturellen Einflüsse sowohl aus dem westlichen als auch dem asiatischen Kontext aufzuzeigen. Diese transkulturelle Orientierung ermöglicht es, diese die von Trungpa etablierten Vorstellungen und Praktiken nicht lediglich als Produkt einer erfolgreichen Adaption an westliche Verhältnisse zu beschreiben, sondern sie als ein neues Wissens- und Praxisfeld zu betrachten, dass aus einer Situation kultureller Hybridität hervorgegangen ist.

The grounds of The Tibetan Buddhist Lodge were deeply peaceful, and incidentally, deeply green.

There was even a gazebo next to the koi pond. The koi were hypnotic to watch as they swirled and twirled about, slowly, in the murky depths. The frogs croaked in a distinctive three-croak sequence, making a full circle around the pond – croak north, croak west, croak east.

I was tempted just to sit on the deck or below in the gazebo, without moving till the end of my stay.

The idea of a retreat from New York City was attractive. Tibetan Buddhism, described as a more laid back form of American Buddhism, might have been the answer.

Accustomed to formal Zen retreats, with their strict schedules of rising at 4:00 a.m., long hours of silent motionless meditation, labor, rigorously stylized meals, more work and more silent meditation before lights out at 8:00 p.m., a relaxed retreat sounded extremely attractive.

I should have done more research.

Although this is vigorously disputed, Tibetan Buddhism has been termed a cult.

Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche, the leader of American Tibetan Buddhism and spiritual father of this retreat house, was a highly eccentric character whose personal qualities, as well as his spiritual wisdom, influenced his followers but also alienated his detractors.

As the director of Crazy Wisdom put it, Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche did not fit most Westerner’s vision of a holy man from the East, “Raised and trained in the rigorous Tibetan monastic tradition” he “shattered Western notions about how an enlightened teacher should behave when he renounced his monk’s vows & eloped with a sixteen year-old aristocrat… He openly smoked, drank, and had intimate relations with students – yet his teachings are recognized as authentic, vast, and influential.”

Here is a short but intense version:

    Dharma teachings are not going to be romantic or beautiful – oh no! The teachings are going to be painful, even invoking paranoia. At the same time, we can work with the situation and find something creative in it.

Chögyam Trungpa espouses what is termed “crazy wisdom,” an unconventional, outrageous or unexpected behavior said to be characteristic of certain spiritually accomplished beings, thereby setting accepted practice on its head. It could rightly be perceived as egotistical heedless self-indulgence.

The film makes sure that this point is made again and again.

This behavior perhaps provides the source of his Lodge’s reputation for “relaxed” behavior.

Had I seen this film before I went on my retreat, I would have rethought the whole affair.

I think it’s fair to say that although his followers have been delighted with this film’s portrayals of Trungpa, this portrait of the dissolute Tibetan wild holy man – however full of blinding insights, which are more accessible in print than on screen – is not likely to convert anyone who is not already so predisposed.

The Lodge had been described to me as a perfect spot to go to meditate, hike, read and doze by the pond. And it was. In the evening, I sat and listened to croaking bullfrogs, distant thunder and peepers. I smelled fragrant pine trees and grass, alone but yet surrounded by brilliant petunias—purple and pink and pale lavender.

At one point, hummingbirds flocked to the deck. One tried to hit the windowpane, which reflected the petunias so well that the poor bird thought he was heading directly towards more flowers. Fortunately, he did not hit the plane of glass head on and was able to flit away.

Unlike the little hummingbird, however, I did hit the glass head on.

I made the mistake of speaking too candidly to a staffer about their parent lodge in Vermont. My remarks were passed on at furious lightning speed throughout this tiny community.

The movie brought it all back. What was it like to be in a 70’s Vermont Tibetan Buddhist community with Trungpa? Or a 90’s retreat lodge? It was like Woodstock without as much mud. Shaggy, open mouthed devotees, wagging their heads, chanting, singing, dancing, and adoring Trungpa, their Rinpoche. (“Precious one” – a title) Reverence. Adoration.

And this afternoon’s movie audience, grayer but no less exalted, nodded violently, gasped, laughed extravagantly, waved their hands high, uttered words of praise to Rinpoche—well, they might easily be Ram Doss’s people, forty years later.

In the movie, Crazy Wisdom, even machers like Allen Ginsberg or wild men like Ram Dass with his blissed out retinue bowed their heads when they spoke to Rinpoche with humility and self-abnegation. While he sat on his throne, staring impassively and uttering enigmatic, occasionally wildly insightful comments…or merely riffed about an errant thought he had.

Chogyam Trungpa had had an intense, absolute control over his many lodges and retreat houses, communities and even a university in Colorado. For example, he decided that his American followers spoke a sloppy form of English, unlike his own precise articulation.

He decreed that his devotees must learn precise “Queens’ English” – like his own—and instructed them all to carry out endless, meaningless elocution exercises.

He also decided that his form of Buddhism must reflect every form of life. Chögyam Trungpa created his own Buddhist armies, something of a contradiction in terms.

He made the rules. However, he alone (and his partners) broke the rules.

And this community follows suit 20 years later.

They felt that I had to acknowledge that I had broken the rules. I had to acknowledge the superior wisdom of my teachers, and do penance and obey.

The job of exacting penance was delegated to Carolyn Koo.

Because of her high religious status, and her own personal charm and authority, Carolyn was a powerful person within Tibetan Buddhism.

Thus, even her casual comments had significance. When I first met her, she said, “I hear you were much beloved at our parent lodge for your willingness to tolerate discomfort.”

They called you a true “barking dog!”

Although I laughed merrily, dutifully, the dead silence around me made it clear that a point was being made.

On a day hike in the woods surrounding The Lodge, I learned that there might be worse fates than being branded as a barking dog. One’s instructor might practice his own form of “crazy wisdom” on the group. And the community dogs might well bark back.

Our leader instructed us to sit down and begin meditation. Mosquitoes were out in force—we had armed ourselves with bug repellant but even so, it was difficult to concentrate between hums and bites.

But one practitioner, Brenda, had the great misfortune to sit down on a rock inhabited by a colony of fierce fire ants. They swarmed all over her body, biting ferociously.

We were asked to share our perceptions.

20 minutes later, Brenda said quietly that she had been bitten severely and was in a lot of pain.

Our instructor said impassively that he had seen no reason to respond.

We were all supposed to be capable of deep meditation and hence be beyond pain.

Why then would Brenda need assistance?

Carolyn supported this point of view. She threw her head back and laughed loudly.

She then related a parable to explain how in meditation one must be able to tolerate virtually anything, “Chögyam Trungpa says that one must be able to meditate even if a BLAST OF HOT STINKING AIR FROM THE NEW YORK CITY SEWERS hits our nostrils!”

The meditation retreatants, obedient as sheep, got the message. Nobody inquired how Brenda was, or if they could help her. There was raucous laughter. Brenda, the sufferer laughed too with some difficulty and said she had recovered through the power of meditation.

Why did no one intervene? Perhaps because we had just encountered authentic crazy wisdom. Perhaps because just by being there we had entered into an alternative world—where the rules were upside down and nobody wanted to be the first (no, second) to break them.

Shortly after this incident, I decided it was time to cut bait.

I spent a little more time with the koi as they swirled and twirled about slowly in the murky depths. I listened to the frogs croaking in a distinctive 3-croak sequence, making a full circle—croak north, croak west, croak east.

So, yes, I did encounter some of the peace that I sought.

My heart rate slowed, my breathing deepened, I became a little calmer before boarding the bus to go back to the city.

But I also encountered some telling words of truth. I feel that the second proverb accurately sums up my experience, “One cannot reason with a barking dog.”

... of Eastern style paint-ings appears as the loss of one or several of the finely applied paint layers; while the damage to Central style paintings usually appears as deep cracking through the ... The dark background of the painting relates to the iconography of the subject matter. ...

Conference on Protection of Cultural Property in Asia – Interpol
The loss of art and antiquities through destruction, theft, looting, and illegal export and sale has long been associated with dramatic and catastrophic changes in societies such as war, civil unrest, and natural or man-made disasters. However, even relatively peaceful and progressive changes such as the opening of countries for increased travel and tourism or the development of free markets and economies also may stimulate the illegal trade in cultural and religious heritage items.
For traditional Buddhist monasteries and nunneries where valuable religious objects and relics are readily available to the religious community for daily contemplation and worship, there is a special challenge in protecting objects from damage and theft without restricting access.
By
Shaftel, Koestler, DePriest and Beaubien

Presented at 2017 Rocky Mountain/Great Plains Regional AAR on panel “Ethics and Ritual Practice in the Formation of Tantric Buddhist Subjectivities”

Abstract:
This paper examines the formation of Vajrayāna Buddhist subjects through the enactment of the tantric Buddhist ritual practice (Skt: sādhana; Tib: !བ་ཐབས་), the Sādhana of Mahāmudrā (SOM). Revealed by the
Tibetan reincarnate teacher Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche (1940-1987) while on retreat in Bhutan in 1968, the SOM was widely transmitted by Trungpa Rinpoche and played a central role in the transnational transmission of Vajrayāna Buddhism to the ‘West.’ The primary soteriological goal for practitioners of tantric Buddhist visualization practices is to realize their innate enlightened nature (Skt: sugatagarbha; Tib. བདེ་བར་གཤེགས་པའི་.ིང་པོ་) by means of visualizing an enlightened deity. Requisite for the efficacy of such
practices, however, is the necessary devotion to one’s teacher, who is understood to embody the enlightenment of the meditational deity. In visualizing the realm of a deity and one’s place within it, practitioners simultaneously train themselves to embody a particular tantric Buddhist habitus through the reiteration of norms in ritual practice, a process I call ‘Vajrayāna subject-making.’ Following ritual theorists, such as William Sax, who discuss ritual as a powerful means for creating selves, relationships, and communities, I analyze the SOM as a method of inducting and instructing tantric Buddhist subjects. Through enacting what Davis (1991) called the ‘ritual universe’ of the text, I argue, practitioners of the SOM shape themselves into tantric subjects who embody the appropriate affective disposition and accept the hierarchical, epistemological, and ontological truth-claims of that ritual universe. This paper informs my broader research question: how are new subjectivities created in the process of religious transmission across radically different cultural contexts? More generally, it contributes to emergent conversations around performativity in Buddhist ritual practice and will also prove relevant to those working on the intersection of ritual practice and religious transmission in other traditions.