The Bodhisattva Path of Wisdom and Compassion

by Chogyam Trungpa

  Shunyata is very real; I am not particularly talking about sixth-grade-level shunyata at this point, although it may sound that way. The question is still, how do we really know about our part of reality? Can we really trust in that if we are fixed in our perceptions? These are very simple questions.

  We are not talking about philosophy necessarily, although it entails that as well, naturally. But when we perceive things, we label things: “This is a jar, this is a table, this is a house, this is a room, this is a door, this is a drink, this is food.” We seemingly share those things together. We even come to agreements together; for instance, we agree as to whether the food we ate was good or not. But still, how do we know that we are saying the same thing? Or do we?

  One of Nagarjuna’s ideas in connection with shunyata is the realization that there is nothing we can hang on to that is actually a common idea. Everybody believes blue is blue, yellow is yellow, and red is red, but nobody really knows because we have no way of talking with one another except in terms of our own conceptual language. We could actually tune ourselves in to a kind of make-believe. How much does the lingo we are learning make us think we share the world together, and how much are we actually sharing the world together? That is what it really boils down to. It is a very suspicious world. We do not know who we actually are, from that point of view; we have absolutely no idea. What do we mean by “me” or “I”? What do we mean by “that”? If we do not know what we mean by “red” or “blue,” we could also ask, what do we mean by “me”? When your mother says “you,” somebody else might think “me.”

  It is very tricky, but very simple logic. It is extremely simple logic, actually. That is one of the interesting points about shunyata. As a contemplative practice and a way to study shunyata, you could think about all this. Do we really know who we are? Do we really know what is yellow, what is blue, what is green, or what is red? Do we really know what is up and what is down, what is water and what is fire? Well, do we?

  The shunyata principle is connected with the nidanas. The nidanas are coincidences, which make things seem real and solid, and shunyata is something that kind of deflates itself. Supposedly, by understanding the deflatableness of shunyata, we can begin to realize the coincidence of the nidanas, or tendrel. That is to say, certain things coincide; coincidence takes place in our life. For instance, although my students and I might have a gross misunderstanding of each other and what we are talking about, something has brought us together in a very strange way. We may have entirely different ideas about the whole world, but we are still connected. That is an example of the nidana principle, which brings things together. But at the same time, there is deflatable shunyata, which is all-pervasive.

  ULTIMATE TRUTH AS COSMIC ORPHAN

  Ultimate truth implies that there is something behind the reality of kündzop. It is fine to begin to see reality, or things as they are, as empty, but töndam is not just emptiness—töndam is absolutely full. It is full of all kinds of things and possibilities, but it is empty of other. Since ultimate truth does not have any relatives, it could be called an orphan. Töndam is an orphan in that it has no reference point for itself. Who are the parents? Who are the brothers and sisters? Töndam exists by itself, a cosmic orphan. That is why töndam is said to be empty of other. Töndam does not need to refer to other to make itself empty—töndam is empty of any reference point; therefore, it is empty. But at the same time, töndam is somewhat full. It is full by itself, and completely unique.

  Since töndam has no need to refer to other to make itself empty, you could say that “Form is emptiness” without having to say that “Emptiness is form.” Instead of saying, “Emptiness is form,” emptiness just is. Particularly in the Zen tradition, the idea that emptiness is form is a very important reference point, but in true madhyamaka, you don’t actually have to say that. It is what it is. Some logical traditions would say that a vase is empty of its own nature because a vase does not exist with preconceptions. Other logical schools would say that the vase is empty because the vase is empty of fixation and clinging. The problem is that when you say the vase is empty of fixation, you might knock out the fixation, but you still have the vase. You have not destroyed the vase itself, so subtle fixations still exist. When we say that the vase is empty by itself, it does not mean that we have to break the vase in order to take out the fixation. The vase is what is; therefore, it is not.

  When we say that the vase is empty, we are not judging from concept. In fact, we cannot actually say the vase is empty. We say the vase is not; therefore, it is. Madhyamakans talk about the idea of two negations, that there is an immense difference between saying “no” and “not.” When you say “not,” you are substituting something else, but when you say “no,” it is a complete negation—which is also a complete affirmation of its existence. “Not” is a view. Because this is not a cow, therefore it is something else. Saying “not a cow” is different than saying “no cow.” So it is better to say “no.” It is like mu in the Japanese tradition. Mu means “no”; it doesn’t mean “not.” In saying that the vase is empty, the idea is not simply that it is no vase from our point of view; therefore, it is a vase as it is. It is not even that it is no vase insofar as we have a concept of vase; therefore, it is a vase just as it is, without our concept added. In both statements, there is still a shadow of us. Instead you could say, “The vase is utterly no; therefore, simply yes.”

  TWO TYPES OF TÖNDAM

  There are two types of töndam: countable or categorized töndam, and uncountable or uncategorized töndam.

  Countable Töndam

  Countable töndam is nam-drang-pe töndam. Nam means “all,” drang-pe means “countable,” and töndam means “absolute truth”; so nam-drang-pe töndam means “countable töndam.” Countable töndam refers to what occurs when we begin to experience certain portions of our life with less fixation. When we have less problem with the reality of töndam, we begin to realize and experience the simplicity, ordinariness, transparency, and nonexistence of certain issues. Therefore, it is countable. It is not yet vast, but it is workable, touchable, able to be experienced.

  At this level, we might have no problem transcending our fixation on a cup of tea, but we still have a problem with our grandmother. We might have transcended our conceptualization of chopsticks, but we still have a fixation about our Chinese cook. We may have transcended our fixation on our mother, but we are still not letting go of our mother’s nipple. It is a partial letting go.

  Uncountable Töndam

  The second type of töndam is namdrang ma-yin-pe töndam. Namdrang, again, means “all count,” ma-yin-pe in this context means “not having,” and töndam is “absolute truth”; so namdrang ma-yin-pe töndam means “not having countable töndam,” or “no longer having countable fixations.” At this level, a person’s experiences of both the chopsticks and the Chinese cook are transcended, and the mother’s nipple is transcended. Everything is completely vast experience. This type of töndam is the madhyamaka level. The truth of pure kündzop is the yogacharan level, which is also very profound.

  The uncountable level of töndam is connected with the experience of shunyata. The countable level is a lesser experience. In the Heart Sutra, when things are broken into pieces by saying “no eye, no ear, no nose,” and so forth, that is purely on the level of countable töndam. When it says that all dharmas are marked with emptiness, this is the uncountable töndam level. At that point, an actual glimpse of shunyata has begun to occur. But even the countable töndam level is more adult than pure kündzop. There is the emptiness of recognizing that kündzop does not make any sense. You see that kündzop is helpful, but that it does not produce any progress reports.

  CUTTING THROUGH NEUROTIC RESIDUES

  Countable töndam transcends pure kündzop, but only partially. With the clarity of pure kündzop, you see that the sky is blue, but you still have not let go completely. Seeing without any delusions that the sky is blue is fine, but that just means
you have become sane in the conventional sense. But there is more insanity beyond that, which namdrangpe töndam cuts through. You discover that seeing blue as blue is not all that you thought. It is not the last result, but there is more to come. There are further psychological fixations and subtleties. You may no longer have psychoses or see pink elephants in front of you, and twofold ego may seem to be completely cut through, but you still have neuroses. Those neuroses are cut through by the two töndam experiences.

  The ego of dharmas is extensive and very hard to cut through. At the level of pure kündzop, the gross level of the ego of dharmas may have been cut through by committing yourself to bodhichitta and becoming a bodhisattva-like person, but at a subtle level it is still happening. Although you seem to have become grown-up, your teenager-ness and infant-ness are still continuing. So you still have a journey to make; it’s not a clean-cut job. The ego of dharmas is hard to cut through because you still have some idea of the path and the teachings, and some idea of the person who is making the journey. All those connections make up a big bundle. You still have a sense of direction; although you experience many flashes of directionlessness, they do not last very long. They are just temporary. There is still the continuity of “me” taking a certain direction, “me” making a journey.

  There is another residue in addition to that. You have learned a lot and cut through a lot, but in the meantime you have inherited a lot of things to replace what has been cut through. It has been said that until you get to the highest tantric level, or ati, each one of your achievements is also your way of messing up. Although you learn many new things, you leave deposits behind. It is like a worm in the middle of a piece of wood: it eats what’s in front of it, and excretes something back out behind it. You leave deposits behind, and they have to be cleared out as well.

  In the hinayana, pratyekabuddhas feel that their ability to cut the karmic chain reactions is an achievement. But in fact, although they have managed to cut through the chain reactions of karma, in the process they have created further chain reactions. So their achievements and accomplishments are good for them, and at the same time they are bad for them. In the mahayana, bodhisattvas engage in the world, but they are unable to immerse themselves in their world actually and fully because they are still fixated on being religious. So it is as though they were walking on ice instead of walking on rock.

  FOURFOLD DEFINITION OF ULTIMATE TRUTH

  The definition of töndam, or ultimate truth that does not need any reference point, is fourfold: joy, purity, permanence, and being. This list may seem to be a complete contradiction to the rest of the buddhadharma, but somehow it is true.

  Joy

  Ultimate truth is joyous or pleasurable. Ordinary pleasure comes from drawing entertainment from the other. We generally cannot just have a good time simply by ourselves, but our enjoyment has to be opposed to something else. For instance, we might experience joy if we were being hassled by somebody, and we managed to get away from that person once in a while and just be alone. Beautiful people or celebrities face that problem of being hassled by photographers and admirers, so they appreciate being alone. But the joy of ultimate truth is a quite different kind of pleasure or joy. It is joy without any reference point. There is not even the reference point of pain or pleasure, or pain and pleasure together. The experience of joy is direct and precise.

  Purity

  Ultimate truth is pure because the quality of shunyata experience is beyond indulgence. We do not have to create extra garbage in order to exist, but we exist in our own way. That way becomes very personal, very definite, and very direct. It does not need any feedback or further excitement.

  Permanence

  Ultimate truth is permanent. Permanence is quite a tough notion to handle, because the whole teaching of buddhadharma is based on the idea of impermanence or transitoriness. But in this case, permanence does not mean longevity or eternity. It has a greater imprint in our present existence than on the future. The idea is that present existence is permanent. It is a complete mark, or lakshana, a complete imprint. Every moment of experience is full and complete in its own basic sanity or emptiness. So this notion of permanence has nothing to do with longevity or eternity.

  Being

  Ultimate truth is being. Being may seem to have a quality of ego, something that has to be gotten rid of. But in this case, it is just being. It is the existence of a fundamental reference point. That fundamental reference point could become a resource for encouragement or confirmation, but in this case it is simply self-existing being. When you are there, you are there; if you are not there, you are not there. There is a quality of actually being there properly and fully. You exist in your own way—there is no other way to exist. Since you exist as you are, you do not need any reassurance or the territoriality of egohood.

  These four definitions of töndam—joy, purity, permanence, and being—are the basic reference points of ultimate shunyata experience, which is equal to tathagatagarbha, which is another name for ultimate truth. However, not all ordinary madhyamakans talk about ultimate truth and tathagatagarbha in such an easy way. They feel guilty because they have not realized the ultimate meaning of emptiness. Therefore, they think they are violating the true teachings of Buddhism by re-creating ego of some kind. But the Madhyamaka school of our tradition says that tathagatagarbha does exist, and we do not feel the existence of tathagatagarbha creates any problem for the teaching of the nonexistence of ego. In fact, when we negate the ego, that affirms the existence of tathagatagarbha at the same time.

  1. Vajra-like samadhi is an indestructible meditative state of complete awakeness or enlightenment.

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  Contemplating Emptiness

  You and your wakefulness have different opinions altogether. It is very important to understand how the whole thing goes wrong at the very beginning. If you understand that, then you understand the whole thing. And that split is not a “once upon a time” story—it happens all the time in your everyday life.

  DROPPING CONCEPTUAL FIXATIONS

  At the true shunyata level, having experienced kündzop completely and properly, we realize that kündzop is problematic. We realize that clinging to relative reality is not particularly workable, wise, or inspiring. Kündzop becomes altogether meaningless. In fact, there is no kündzop as such. Everything that we experience, such as tables or chairs or whatever, is based on fixation, and that fixation is already empty by itself. It is empty because there is no substantial ground to be fixated on, so nothing actually happens.

  When we experience fixation, that fixation seems dramatic and realistic from the ordinary point of view. But if we view that again and again from the logic of who and what and where such fixation takes place, we find that we need fixation itself to encourage us to do that. But if we are working purely according to the logic of the fixation, we do not need ourselves to work with it. In other words, the subject is not particularly basic—the subject needs an object to relate with it. Anything might seem tangible, but nothing becomes particularly tangible. If we have an idea of something, the subject of the idea, the object of the idea, and the concept of the idea are all divided into so many sections that finally we could ask who actually had such an idea. Where did the idea come from? Where are the final conclusions taking place? It is questionable.

  Due to fixation, we would like to hang on to something extremely vague and uncertain, but the vagueness remains vague. How the vagueness came about is uncertain, and where the vagueness is to end is uncertain, so we really have no working basis. If we were able to go beyond the fixation of who possesses what, then we might understand that there is no possessor of such a situation. There is just complete openness, complete spaciousness and nonexistence. So the vagueness is not vagueness in the sense of uncertainty, but vagueness as a panoramic quality. It is the ideal perception of vipashyana that hinayanists dream of attaining. It is ultimate, all-pervasive awareness. If you have a panoramic vision of a city, a bird’s-eye view
, you see everything very precisely, but at the same time it is vague, because you are seeing everything in too much detail. It is vague because of the abundance of detail rather than because you do not see the details. The vagueness is the precision.

  The basic notion of shunyata at this point is “that which is empty of its own conceptualizations.” When we see a vase, a chair, or a table, we have a sense of it. But that sense is not the actual vaseness, chairness, or tableness at all. It is just an attachment, something we just plopped onto it. Things are as they are. There is nothing really we can tell about the extent to which they exist. We might say, “Because I decided to call this a table, therefore it is really a table,” but we actually have no reference point that allows us to say that, experience that, or realize that. A table is a piece of furniture that has a top and four legs. If we think that anything that has four legs is a table, we might find a cow to be a table, since a cow also has four legs. But a cow is not flat on top, and a table is. If there were a flat-topped cow, then it would absolutely be a table. An armchair is something you sit on that has legs and arms. But if that is the case, your parent’s lap could be called an armchair.

  If we begin to figure out those little details of our confusion, we see that it is quite likely that tables could become cows, or chairs could become parents. Such confusion is a possibility; it is all based on our fixation. We do not actually realize or experience the chairness or tableness in anything. We simply randomly give our names, concepts, and ideas to things. We have no idea why things are as they are, or how things are as they are.