Beyond Heaven and Earth

by Steven H. Propp

  “I get confused about Tantra because Hinduism, as well as Taoism, is supposed to have a Tantric tradition,” Jobran said.

  “I think Tantra first started in India, then spread to China, and the rest of the Far East,” Heidi said. “Of course, it is its place in Tibet—at least, before the Communist Chinese drove out the Dalai Lama and his followers—that is most important for what we do here. The Rinpoche that our group follows runs a Center just outside San Francisco. We all try to get up there as often as we can to practice Lhak-tong or vipassana—’insight’ meditation; meditation that inquires directly into the nature of mind—with him; but since we’re all ordinary working folks in this group, most of us can only make it down there once or twice a month. So for the rest of the time, Steve and Jackie conduct ‘open’ meditation sessions here three days a week. Do you meditate, by the way?”

  “No.”

  In a coy voice, she added, “You’re more than welcome to come to those sessions; practicing meditation is where you really find out what Vajrayana is all about; it’s really a path of devotion, of seeing the sacredness in your gurus, your teachers, in everything. Besides meditation, we have prostrations, recitation of mantras, chanting, and liturgy, which are intended to raise us to the level of enlightened beings. We try and make all of our daily activities into a meditative practice.” In a quiet tone, she added, “And as you know, Tantra teaches that all energy—including sexual energy—can be a path to enlightenment.”

  At this point, Jobran looked up, and saw that Steve had returned, and that all the other people in the room had been listened to their discussion. Jobran flushed, and said, “Sorry; I didn’t mean to monopolize the discussion.”

  Steve grinned and said, “No apologies necessary; it was a good discussion.” He looked at Heidi and said, “And Heidi has obviously been doing some studying, as well.” Heidi blushed at the compliment, but looked pleased.

  “Anyway, we just finished up going through the Tibetan Book of the Dead last week,” Steve said. Addressing Jobran and Abraham, he asked, “Have either of you read it, or at least heard of it?”

  Abraham shook his head, but Jobran said, “I’ve read it—which is not to say that I understood it; even after reading C.J. Jung’s commentary on it.”

  Steve’s wife Jackie spoke for the first time, and said, “That’s cool that you’ve read it; a lot of Westerners are put off by its esoteric symbolism and cosmology, and miss all of the deep insights that are found in it. I’m finishing up my classes for my Masters’ degree in Psychology next semester, and I’m probably going to write my thesis on the evolving attitudes of Western psychologists to the text.” To Abraham, as well as the rest of the group, she said, “In Tibetan, the book is actually called the Bardo Thödol, and it’s basically a set of instructions for the dead and the dying. In Tibetan, ‘bardo’ means ‘between two,’ and it basically means the transitions or intervals one must make between the four basic realities of life; dying and death; after-death, and rebirth. Most people associate the Bardo Thödol with the second and third stages, since the book is intended to be read aloud to a person who is dying, or shortly after they have died, since their consciousness may continue for days or months after they cease breathing. It is intended to guide the dying or dead person through the experiences that lie in store for them.”

  “You believe that consciousness continues after death for how long?” asked Abraham, skeptically.

  “It depends on the person,” Jackie replied. “But anywhere from 20 minutes— the period given in Sogyal’s book—to three days for an ‘average’ person, to months or even years for someone who is an experienced meditator. There are accounts of experienced lamas showing no signs of decomposition for several months after their deaths, when they died in a proper state of meditation.”

  Seeing skepticism on the faces of both Jobran and Abraham, Steve interrupted to say, “Anyway, our study this week is on Sogyal Rinpoche’s book. We were assigned to read the Foreword by His Holiness the Dalai Lama, and the first three chapters. Did everyone read at least that much?” Most hands in the group went up. Seeing a quizzical expression on Jobran’s face, Steve said with a laugh, “You look like you’ve got a question.”

  Jobran nodded. “You’ve mentioned the Dalai Lama several times. Is your group associated with him?”

  “Yes,” Steve said. “Our Rinpoche in San Francisco was taught in Tibet, and left at the same time the Dalai Lama was forced out by the Communists. Like the Dalai Lama, he is a practitioner of the Gelugpa or Geluk school, which is one of the four main schools of Tibetan Buddhism. But, like the Dalai Lama, he is not exclusivist: he feels that studying and practicing teachings of all four schools is beneficial. Some in the Gelugpa school do not teach Dzogchen practice, for example, which is mostly practiced by the Nyingma school; but both Sogyal and our own Rinpoche feel that it is essential.”

  “What is Dzogchen?” Jobran asked. “I’ve read and heard that word in various places; it seems like it’s becoming almost a New Age buzzword.”

  Jackie laughed, and squeezed her husband’s hand affectionately. “It is; we get phone calls from people who ask, ‘Do you teach Dzogchen?’ without having any idea what it is. They just know that ‘it’s the latest thing,’ and so they need to get it!”

  Steve said, “Sogyal explains Dzogchen as being our ‘fundamental, primordial state, our absolute nature, which is already perfect and always present.’ In Dzogchen, the student is directly introduced to this primordial view by the master; the directness of this approach—directly bypassing mental discrimination, to grasp the ‘view’—has led some to call it the ‘sudden school,’ what is probably why Westerners are attracted to it.”

  “They think it’s going to be like getting ‘zapped’ with Satori or Enlightenment in Zen,” Jackie said, chuckling. “But it actually is a form of deep insight meditation, emphasizing recognizing the wisdom and purity of mind that is always present, and can require a lifetime to fully realize and practice it.”

  “Anyway,” Steve said, turning back in his book, “In his Foreword, the Dalai Lama makes a very important point: ‘From the Buddhist point of view, the actual experience of death is very important…our state of mind at the time of death can influence the quality of our next rebirth…if we make a special effort to generate a virtuous state of mind, we may strengthen and activate a virtuous karma, and so bring about a happy rebirth.’ Sogyal Rinpoche makes the same point very emphatically later in the book—’the last thought and emotion that we have before we die has an extremely powerful determining effect on our immediate future.’”

  “Which is why the practices and readings in the Book of the Dead would be so important to share with a dying person, right?” Naomi said.

  “Absolutely!” Steve said. “Even though people with generally ‘negative’ karma caused by leading negative lifestyles will probably die in a negative state of mind, and a person with generally ‘positive’ karma will probably die in a positive state of mind, their state of mind at the exact moment of death is of the utmost importance, for determining their rebirth.” As an aside to Jobran, as well as the group, he added, “I used to be Catholic, and the Catholic practice of ‘Extreme Unction’—where when you are about to die, the priest anoints you with ‘Holy Oil,’ and asks if you are sorry for any sins you have committed—has a similar focus. In both cases, they feel that the actual moment of death is critical. That is why Sogyal states that the ideal of any student would be to have his master guide him through the process of dying. Since masters are generally older than students, this is not often possible, but a student may be fortunate enough to be able to witness his master making the transition, which may one day aid him when the time comes for him to make his own transition into death.”

  “And that’s a very important point,” Jackie added. “In Buddhism—even in schools such as Zen, that don’t teach anything about life after death—the
important point is the continuity between life and death, not the discontinuity. Death is simply another chapter in the saga of life. Our notions of ‘birth’ and ‘death’ are creations of our mind; they are illusions; as Sogyal puts it, ‘life and death are in the mind, and nowhere else.’” She laughed heartily, and said, “I was raised in one of those fundamentalist Christian churches, and they believed that God created the world and put us here to tell whether we were going to Heaven, or Hell, because the only purpose of life was to determine where you were going when you died; and if you died on Saturday night, after—as our pastor used to put it— ’druggin’ and drinkin’ and whorin’, and doin’ the Devil’s work!’—you were lost, just as simple as that. But we Buddhists don’t believe in a God who is a ‘creator’ independent of the universe, and we see life and death as fundamentally connected.” She turned serious, and added, “But even the folks at my old church weren’t totally out of touch with Buddhist teaching; all of them taught that, even at your last moment of life, you could ‘accept the Lord Jesus Christ as your personal saviour,’ and you would be ‘saved’! That’s somewhat comparable to the Buddhist teaching that you can purify all our karma at the moment of death, if we have the proper frame of mind.”

  “That’s why Sogyal Rinpoche strongly endorsed the hospice movement in the Western world, as well,” Steve added. “To help prepare the living for death.”

  “But part of the reason that you see ‘preparation’ for death as so important,” Jobran interjected, “Is that you believe in reincarnation, right?”

  Steve paused for a moment, thinking, before he replied, “Well…yes, we do believe in a cyclical process of life after death, whereby one’s karmic legacy resulting from one’s deeds in life and at the time of one’s death determines one’s future lives. However, since in Buddhism there is no substantially existent ‘self’ who is moving from incarnation to incarnation, but instead a continuity of causes of effects, we would prefer to use the term ‘rebirth’ rather than ‘reincarnation.’”

  Jackie interrupted, and said, “We believe that certain beings—such as the Dalai Lama—can choose the manner of their rebirth. The Bardo Thödol even has a section covering how one goes through the rebirth process, including choosing a womb in which to be born.”

  “But it’s completely different from the conception that ‘New Agers’ have in the West—wherein apparently, we’re mostly reincarnated just to give us a chance to work on our relationships—because the ultimate purpose is to achieve final liberation.”

  Suddenly, Steve’s watch started making a loud beeping noise. Looking at it with surprise, and then turning it off, he said somewhat sheepishly, “Geez, it’s been an hour already?” Standing up and stretching, he said to Abraham and Jobran, “Well, we normally break and have some refreshments at this point; I hope you’ll stick around for a while, though, so that we can continue the discussion.”

  Jackie and two of the other women went into the kitchen, and returned with a tray of fruits, a pitcher of hot tea, and some small cakes. The other students got up, stretched, and talked (one person even snuck outside for a quick cigarette). Jobran and Abraham each put a couple of dollars in the can marked “Donations,” and joined the festive group members, who were animatedly talking.

  After a few minutes, Steve went over to Abraham, who was talking with Naomi, and asked, “Well, how did you like the study?” He laughed softly, and added, “You let your friend do most of the talking.”

  “I liked it,” Abraham said, which surprised Jobran. “It reminded me of some Kabbalistic teachings.” This term brought a quizzical look to the faces of several people in the room, who stopped their own conversations to look at Abraham, but Naomi explained, “Abraham and I have something in common—we’re both Jewish.” Then, she added quickly, “In fact, Abe is even a rabbi!” There were comments and exclamations of surprise and approval throughout the room, and Jobran thought he saw Abraham blushing slightly. The group then turned to look at Jobran, who stammered, “Not me; I’m just a lay person,” which brought an amused chuckle from the group.

  “From our conversations both here and on the phone, you’ve obviously done a lot of reading about religion,” said Steve.

  “Most definitely!” chimed in Heidi. “He knows things about Buddhism that I don’t know about!”

  “Is there a particular reason for your interest?” Jackie asked.

  Jobran paused for a moment, then said, “My wife passed away a little over a year ago.” There were various murmurs of sorrow and sympathy from the group. “Since then, I’ve been very interested in what the various religious traditions have to say about life after death.”

  Jackie spoke up, “I don’t know what kind of religious background you come from, but I was raised in a really conservative Missionary Baptist tradition. They were really into reading the Bible—particularly about the ‘Last Days’—singing songs about how ‘Jesus’ Blood paid the price,’ and stuff like that. But when I went away to college, someone invited me to a meeting of Nichiren Shoshu Buddhism, and I was immediately attracted to Buddhism. In Christianity, everything is just talk, talk, talk about what Jesus is supposed to have done for us; but in Buddhism, the focus is on experience, and practice. You don’t just sit around and sing about being ‘saved by the Blood,’ you have to work to achieve your salvation, through your own effort.” The group murmured agreement with Jackie. She then went over and stood next to Steve, who tenderly put his arm around her waist, and she continued, “Then, while I was attending a Buddhist Conference for Buddhists from many different schools and traditions, I met Stephen—and he introduced me to the Vajrayana tradition, then took me to meet and meditate with the Rinpoche, and I was hooked.” With genuine enthusiasm, she added, “I was tired of talk, and preaching; I wanted a practice, and experience, and Vajrayana gve it to me—so I’m very happy, now.” And she smiled contentedly, hugging Steve.

  Jobran asked, “If you don’t mind my asking kind of a dumb question, I’m confused by the teachings of the various schools of Buddhism about life after death. Traditional Hinduism in India taught a belief in reincarnation, of course, and Buddhism originated in India. But from my reading, it seems like the original form of Buddhism taught in India by the original ‘historical’ Buddah— Siddhartha Gautama—didn’t believe in any sort of ongoing ‘soul’; in fact, he supposedly taught the doctrine of Anatman, or ‘no soul,’ and this is apparently still the belief of Theravada Buddhism.” With genuine confusion in his voice, he asked, “If there is no ongoing soul, then how could there be a ‘rebirth’ after death?” (“Good question,” one woman said, and the group turned to Steve, to see how he would answer it.)

  “I think a lot of the Theravadins do believe in life after death, these days,” Steve said. “At least, at the popular level. But I think you’re right about their original beliefs as a school.” Then, with a sly smile, he added, “Of course, that’s part of why Theravada is called Hinayana, or the ‘lesser’ vehicle; it taught a very restricted doctrine, that was only given to a select few in a priesthood.” In a confident voice, he continued, “As for the Buddha himself, since he talked about Enlightenment being ‘release from the cycle of Birth and Death,’ he clearly believed in Reincarnation. And in the Tibetan tradition, so do we—although enlightenment, rather than continuous rebirth, is the ultimate goal of existence. Life ends only upon attaining Buddahood.” Searching for words to explain, he said to Jobran, “What the Buddha was denying, I think, was that there was some substantial, permanent ‘essence’ of a person that is eternal, and lives forever; kind of like the Catholicism of my youth taught that each person was specially created by God with a unique, individual soul. Buddhism certainly denies that; but at the same time, the Vajrayana tradition teaches that there is a karmic cycle that we are a part of, that does continue beyond this lifetime. In fact, Sogyal Rinpoche was very interested in so-called ‘Near-Death Experiences,’ which he felt cont
ained many similarities to teachings in the Bardo Thödol.”

  Jobran nodded his head, and said, “It’s so difficult to tell what the actual founders of a religion actually believed. From what I’ve read, the oldest traditions of Chinese religions such as Taoism and Confucianism really don’t teach any sort of belief in personal immortality, either—but original, historical ‘philosophical’ Taoism is different from the religion of Taoism as it is was practiced in China until the Communists took over. In about the 6th century, Taoists established a ‘church,’ in essence, and this has persisted until this day. I believe that something similar happened with Confucianism, so that what was originally a purely ethical teaching became a ‘religion.’

  “Religions, including Christianity, are often changed from their original purpose,” Steve said, with a sigh. “That’s why the Vajrayana tradition in Tibet is so important; we have an unbroken series of leaders, who have preserved the essential teachings in all their purity.”

  “And a lot of Jews don’t know that Judaism teaches belief in reincarnation, also,” said Naomi.

  Abraham raised one eyebrow, then said in a vacillating voice, “Well…some of the Kabbalistic literature, such as the Zohar, teaches reincarnation; but it wasn’t exactly the ‘mainstream’ belief of Judaism.” He thought for a moment, then asked, “Isn’t the Dalai Lama himself supposed to be selected as a young child, on the basis of him being able to perform certain recognizable signs? I remember seeing that in some popular movie—Little Buddha, I think it was.”