The Bodhisattva Path of Wisdom and Compassion

by Chogyam Trungpa

  Prajna cuts the random choices and methodical logic of küntak. You cut methodically, one situation after another. When you cut through your primitive beliefs about reality and your conflicting emotions, there is compassion. Emotions are very aggressive, so in order to cut through them, you need some kind of cool moon, fresh water, iceberg. So prajna is automatically linked with compassion. The freshness of a cool mountain stream and the tenderness of a pigeon’s heart are always connected.

  1. The practice of resting in alaya is an aspect of mind training described in chapter 36, “Point Two: Resting in Ultimate Bodhichitta.”

  2. Chögyam Trungpa referred to prajna as “knowledge,” or “transcendent knowledge,” and the related term jnana as “wisdom.” However, at times he also used the term wisdom to refer to prajna, particularly in the context of upaya and prajna, or skillful means and wisdom. In the vajrayana teachings, many forms of jnana, or enlightened wisdom, are described. Prajna, or transcendent knowledge, is a key teaching of the mahayana.

  3. For a discussion of küntak, or random labeling, see chapter 23, “Contemplating Emptiness.”

  4. In The Jewel Ornament of Liberation, this level of prajna is connected with the hinayana level of realization. The next level of prajna, which is the prajna that transcends dharmas, is connected with the mahayana level of realization. See The Wish-Fulfilling Gem of the Noble Teachings, translated by Khenpo Konchog Gyaltsen Rinpoche (Ithaca, N.Y.: Snow Lion, 1998).

  5. For more on the ego of self and the ego of dharmas or phenomena, see chapter 8, “Cutting Ego Fixation.”

  Part Seven

  MIND TRAINING AND SLOGAN PRACTICE

  33

  Introduction to Mind Training

  The lojong, or mind-training, slogans are very simple, and not particularly philosophical. They are purely what one of the great Kagyü teachers referred to as a “grandmother’s finger pointing.” When a grandmother says, “This is the place where I used to go and pick corn or collect wild vegetables,” she uses her finger rather than writing on paper or using a map.

  SO FAR, our approach to the mahayana has been a philosophical one. But to experience reality properly, we very much need an application or working basis. We need to change to a slightly more contemplative approach. This comes in very handy. We may have begun to understand the shunyata principle or the teachings on relative and absolute truth, but what are we going to do then? What are we going to do with those two truths? It is like we have eaten an immense amount of birthday cake: we are completely bloated and do not know what to do next. So at this point we need to shift our emphasis from the theory of the bodhisattva path to the practice and experience of it.

  What is the difference between theory and practice? Theory is an understanding of the possibility of egolessness, and practice is actually shedding your ego. The effect is relating with reality according to the bodhisattva path. At the theoretical level, you can understand how the realization of the egolessness of individuality and the egolessness of dharmas can be achieved simultaneously and properly. And at the practical level, how you are going to do that is largely based on your practice and personal discipline.

  In the mahayana, our main concern is how to awaken ourselves. The mahayana takes quite a lot of effort because it is a big job. That is why it is called the mahayana, the great vehicle: it is a big deal. The mahayana is no joke, and you had better not fall asleep at the wheel when you are driving on such a big highway. But you can’t go wrong with mahayana heavy-handedness; it is the best kind.

  With mahayana practice, there is no cultivation—you just do it. It’s like taking medication: the pills you take might taste terribly bitter, but you take them anyway. The mahayana is very harsh, but it is also very gentle. The intention is gentle, but the practice is harsh. By combining the intention and the practice, you are being both “harshed” and “gentled.” That process turns you into a bodhisattva. It is like jumping into a blender: you begin to feel that you are swimming in the blender, and you might even enjoy it a little bit after you have been processed.

  The technique of shamatha-vipashyana does not change very much in the mahayana; it is pretty standard. The only difference is the idea of an enlightened attitude, or bodhichitta. When you take the bodhisattva vow, you are actually transplanting bodhichitta in yourself. So bodhichitta is not purely conceptual; it is pragmatic. Out of bodhichitta comes the idea of working with a spiritual friend, or kalyanamitra, as the guide for your practice. You begin to be willing to commit yourself to working with all sentient beings. But before you launch yourself into such a project, you first need lots of training. In that way, the mahayana approach is similar to the hinayana logic of soso tharpa, or self-liberation.

  ATISHA AND THE TRANSMISSION OF THE LOJONG TEACHINGS

  Lojong is one of the mahayana contemplative practices taught in Tibet by Atisha Dipankara. Lo means “intelligence,” or “mind”; it is that which can perceive things. Jong means “training” or “processing”; so lojong means “mind training.” It is similar to the concept of shinjang, which means “thoroughly processed.”

  Atisha Dipankara visited Tibet at the beginning of the eleventh century, during the second revival of Buddhism in Tibet, after the time of Padmasambhava and after the period of persecution of Buddhists. When Atisha came to Tibet, he presented teachings in what was to become known as the Kadam school. Ka means “command,” or “teaching.” It is like the word Logos, or “Word,” in the Christian tradition, as in “In the beginning was the Word.” Ka is a fundamental sacred command. It refers both to absolute truth and to a quality of practicality or workability from the individual’s point of view. Dam means “instruction.” It is oral teaching, personal teaching, a manual on how to handle your life properly. So Kadam means “sacred command teaching.” The Kadam tradition developed around the time of Marpa and Milarepa, when Tibetan monasticism was beginning to take place and become deeply rooted. The Kagyü teacher Gampopa also belonged to the Kadam order, and incorporated this practice into the Kagyü tradition.

  Within the Kadam tradition, there is a contemplative school and an intellectual school. In the contemplative school, the teachings are seen as instructions for practice rather than as an intellectual system. All the commands and messages are regarded as practical and workable for students, and there is an emphasis on contemplative and meditative disciplines. Since the Kagyüpas received instructions on the proper practice of mahayana through Gampopa, who studied with Kadam teachers as well as with Milarepa, we practice lojong based on the contemplative school of the Kadam tradition.

  The Geluk tradition developed from the intellectual, or pandita, school of the Kadam tradition. Ge means “virtue,” and luk means “system”; so the Geluk tradition is the “study of virtue.” Gelukpas take a dialectical approach to understanding the mahayana and are philosophically oriented. They study logic, and analyze and intellectualize the teachings, whereas the Kagyü and Nyingma schools, which are my traditions, are referred to as practice lineages.

  Atisha’s lojong teachings were later summarized in a text by Geshe Chekawa Yeshe Dorje entitled The Root Text of the Seven Points of Training the Mind. My discussion of lojong is based on this text and on Jamgön Kongtrül’s commentary, called Changchup Shunglam, which means “the main path to enlightenment.”1 Changchup means “enlightenment,” shung means “main,” and lam is “path”; so Changchup Shunglam means “main path to enlightenment.” Shung is also the word used for “government.” For instance, we could call the Tibetan government pö shung: pö meaning Tibet, and shung meaning government. The government running the country is supposed to be a wide administration rather than a narrow one. It takes care of the psychology of the country as well as the economics, politics, and domestic situations. Shunglam can also mean “highway,” or “boulevard,” like a road in the middle of a city. It is extraordinarily wide and open, the main path on which everybody travels, the way any good old Buddhist should travel.

  In the Changchu
p Shunglam, Atisha Dipankara’s teachings on lojong are presented as a sevenfold cleaning or processing of one’s mind, based on fifty-nine slogans designed to teach people how to become good mahayanists. These instructions were given to very simple people as well as to educated people. When the mahayana was first presented in Tibet, people were quite savage. So basic teachings, such as trying to be kind to your neighbors instead of destroying them, were revolutionary. In Tibet—or India for that matter—there was not much law and order, and so at first the mahayana teachers were simply trying to establish basic social norms. It took a long time for them to convince people that they could actually trust their next-door neighbors.

  We may have gone a bit beyond teachings such as trying to be kind or not gossiping about people we dislike. Social norms about those types of things already exist. In modern society, we have been bombarded with all kinds of moralities and behavioral norms. We also have the police to protect us from doing terrible things to one another. We are told to try to be good citizens, and if we are not, we will get in trouble and end up in jail. But on the way toward trying to be good and kind, our approach has somewhat degenerated. It does not have enough psychological depth or real gut-level compassion. So at this point, although we may be more civilized, we constantly miss the point of why we are civilized. We miss the heart of the matter. Apart from being kind and good and keeping out of trouble, there is no greater vision. So it is important to emphasize the psychological aspect of lojong.

  THE POWER AND PRACTICALITY OF LOJONG

  Lojong is a way of switching allegiance from your ego to buddha nature. It is a process of indoctrination in which your previous preconceptions are wiped out. Quite simply, you indoctrinate yourself into the bodhisattva path and the bodhisattva’s way of thinking by realizing that you have in your mind this monolithic principle called buddha nature, bodhichitta, or tathagatagarbha. You indoctrinate yourself so that you cannot get away from that.

  The lojong, or mind-training, slogans are very simple, and not particularly philosophical. They are purely what one of the great Kagyü teachers referred to as a “grandmother’s finger pointing.” When a grandmother says, “This is the place where I used to go and pick corn or collect wild vegetables,” she uses her finger rather than writing on paper or using a map. In earlier times, quite possibly students were illiterate or not particularly versed in philosophy, so slogans were used. Jamgön Kongtrül’s writing on this practice also very much reflects that approach.

  In my own training, I studied a lot of philosophy. So when Jamgön Kongtrül first suggested that I study the seven points of mind training, I was relieved to discover that Buddhism was so simple and practical. You can actually practice it; you can just follow the book and do as it says, which is extraordinarily powerful and such a relief. In my childhood, I enjoyed immensely reading and memorizing the slogans. The simplicity of this text and Jamgön Kongtrül’s commentary on it is so precious and direct; it is almost as if it were written for peasants. One of the characteristics of Jamgön Kongtrül’s writing is that he can change his tone completely, depending on the subject, as if he were a different author altogether—and in doing so, his relationship with the audience becomes entirely different.

  The Changchup Shunglam is one of the best books I studied in the early stages of my monastic life. Each time I read this book, I get benefit from it. It is somewhat rugged, but at the same time it is soothing. I was planning to become a simple monk. I was going to study these things and become a good Buddhist, a contemplative person—and such a thread still holds throughout my life. In spite of the complications in my life, I still feel that I am basically a simple, romantic Buddhist who has immense feeling toward the teachers and the teaching.

  Lojong teachings are very powerful, particularly when you are facing difficulties. You should realize the importance of these slogans, understand as much as you can, and memorize them. What has been said is like a drop of golden liquid. There is a hard-edged quality of cutting down preconceptions and other ego battles, but at the same time, there is always a soft spot of devotion and simplicity that you can never forget. I am not particularly trying to be dramatic, but I really do feel extraordinarily positive about Jamgön Kongtrül and his approach to this teaching.

  The lojong teachings include several points of mahayana discipline, but the foremost discipline is to develop ultimate bodhichitta. Compassion comes from the level of ultimate bodhichitta, an unconditioned state where you begin to realize that you and others do not exist. Therefore, you are able to extend yourself, which gives you joy and further joy. It makes you smile and appreciate the world. But it is important to begin at the beginning, almost at the kitchen-sink level. It may not be all that entertaining, but once you understand the basics, you could play and dance and appreciate the phenomenal world.

  In order to practice lojong, you need hinayana training, and you also need to develop compassion and gentleness. At the hinayana level, you disown your arrogance and competitiveness. Beyond that, the mahayana touch is acknowledging your basic goodness, so you don’t feel you are completely cut off and hopeless. In the mahayana, you are developing an attitude of strength and energy. You are beginning to trust yourself. You trust that your mind is always workable, that you can actually train yourself. You trust that you are not as bad as you thought, but you can apply yourself by means of discipline and meditation. By witnessing the spiritual friend and their relationship to the lineage, you see that you too can do it. So an overall feeling of positive atmosphere and positive logic is created. Because you have developed such gentleness and sympathy for yourself, you begin to feel frustrated with those who cannot click into this possibility. You feel sorry for them, and out of that frustration you develop compassion.

  GETTING A FEEL FOR THE SLOGANS

  It is important to understand the structure of the Atisha slogans. Each of them fits into a certain section of your practice. That is why we have seven different groups of slogans, or seven points of mind training. Some slogans apply to your sitting practice on the cushion, and others apply to what happens before, during, and after that. The first slogan is about preliminaries to mind training. The second set of slogans is about bodhichitta, beginning with ultimate bodhichitta and followed by relative bodhichitta. These slogans have to do with simplifying your practice into the ultimate bodhichitta level, and then applying bodhichitta and making it workable, starting with very simple things. Then there are the postmeditation slogans, which are connected with cultivating bodhichitta in your everyday life. These slogans are guidelines for transforming difficulties, working with both living and dying, evaluating your mind training, and developing discipline. They are general rules for how to conduct yourself.

  The teaching on the seven points of mind training is like being presented with a fish. You have the head of the fish, the body of the fish, and the tail of the fish—and you need to know which part you should cook, which one you should throw away, and which one you should debone, so that you can have a good meal.

  Slogan practice is based on the six paramitas: generosity, discipline, patience, exertion, meditation, and prajna. Bodhisattvas, or would-be bodhisattvas, are like the knights of the medieval tradition. They are wealthy with generosity and they wear excellent perfumes, so they feel good. Then they put on their armor, get on their horses, and ride: and as they do so, they have their weapons around them, their swords and so forth. That seems to be the basic point of the six paramitas—to become a really good warrior.

  In order to practice the slogans, your mind has to mix much more with the dharma. Rather than studying these teachings as a scholarly exercise, you have to learn how to listen to the dharma—how to study properly and apply what you have learned. It does not matter if you can come up with a bright idea. What counts is actually knowing how to apply the teachings. If you keep working with the slogans, you will begin to understand the geography of the whole thing. It is like driving into a town: once you understand the layout, you have
no problem knowing which way to turn. You will know when to turn left and when to turn right. You begin to get a feeling for the town. If you had just memorized the names of the streets, you probably wouldn’t get very far. But once you learn the geography of the town, you even know how to take backstreets to avoid traffic.

  You can practice the slogans with the people you work with at your job, the clerk at the shop where you buy your groceries or your clothes, the driver who cuts in front of you—anyone you relate with. The slogans are always applicable, so you have lots of opportunities. People might have mistaken beliefs about what is true. They might disagree about whether human beings came about from karmic formations or were created by God, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is the personal level, how we relate with people. What matters is whether we complain or we don’t complain. When we cash our check at the bank, how do we relate with that situation? When we eat in a restaurant, how do we relate with that? Slogan practice is universal. The idea is to use the slogans in dealing with anybody who is around us, anybody within our radius, anybody who has some connection with us.

  You can actually sharpen your prajna by relating with people in this way, and they begin to respond to it. They begin to feel that something very precious is taking place. From a practical point of view, if you adopt these principles, things actually work out much more efficiently for you. Waitresses become more friendly, taxicab drivers become joyful, and shopkeepers more accommodating. If you are projecting something that is good and decent, people always pick up on that. It’s great!

  You can practice the slogans on the spot, whenever a situation presents itself to you. But you don’t just say, “Now I’m going to practice slogan number four.” That would be absurd, because the situation may not exist to do number four. The idea is that slogans arise in response to a particular situation. The actual words of these slogans bounce in my mind always, even in my dreams. They are very powerful and significant to me. Likewise, they could bounce around in your mind—in your dreams, before dreams, and in relationships with people. They should always be in the back of your mind. When your mind is tuned in to such simple and beautiful words, these slogans arise naturally. It happens that way, rather than actually having to recall them like the Declaration of Independence. They are so innocent and absurd, in a sense, but their absurdity is so insightful.