Training the Mind and Cultivating Loving-Kindness by Chogyam Trungpa

Training the Mind and Cultivating Loving-Kindness

by Chogyam Trungpa

Edited by Judith L. Lief

Shambhala, Boston & London, 1993

Introduction

In the mahayana tradition (1) we experience a sense of gentleness toward 
ourselves, and a sense of friendliness to others begins to arise. That 
friendliness or compassion is known in Tibetan as nyingje, which 
literally means "noble heart." We are willing to commit ourselves to 
working with all sentient beings. But before we actually launch into that 
project, we first need a lot of training.

     The obstacle to becoming a mahayanist is not having enough sympathy 
for others and for oneself--that is the basic point. And that problem can 
be dealt with by practical training, which is known as lojong practice, 
"training the mind." That training gives us a path, a way to work with 
our crude and literal and raw and rugged styles, a way to become good 
mahayanists. Ignorant or stupid students of the mahayana sometimes think 
that they have to glorify themselves; they want to become leaders or 
guides. We have a technique or practice for overcoming that problem. That 
practice is the development of humility, which is connected with training 
the mind. 

     The basic mahayana vision is to work for the benefit of others and 
create a situation that will benefit others. Therefore, you take the 
attitude that you are willing to dedicate yourself to others. When you 
take that attitude, you begin to realize that others are more important 
than yourself. Because of that vision of mahayana, because you adopt that 
attitude, and because you actually find that others are more important--
with all three of those together, you develop the mahayana practice of 
training the mind.

     Hinayana discipline is fundamentally one of taming the mind. By 
working with the various forms of unmindfulness, we begin to become 
thorough and precise, and our discpline becomes good. When we are 
thoroughly tamed by the practice of shamatha discipline, or mindfulness 
practice, as well as trained by vipashyana, or awareness, in how to hear 
the teachings, we begin to develop a complete understanding of the 
dharma. After that, we also begin to develop a complete understanding of 
how, in our particular state of being tamed, we can relate with others.

     In the mahayana we talk more in terms of training the mind. That is 
the next step. The mind is already tamed, therefore it can be trained. In 
other words, we have been able to domesticate our mind by practicing 
hinayana discipline according to the principles of the buddhadharma. 
Having domesticated our mind, then we can use it further. It's like the 
story of capturing a wild cow in the old days. Having captured the cow, 
having domesticated it, you find that the cow becomes completely willing 
to relate with its tamers. In fact, the cow likes being domesticated. So 
at this point the cow is part of our household. Once upon a time it 
wasn't that way--I'm sure cows were wild and ferocious before we 
domesticated them.

     Training the mind is known as lojong in Tibetan: lo means 
"intelligence," "mind," "that which can perceive things"; jong means 
"training" or "processing." The teachings of lojong consist of several 
steps or points of mahayana discipline. The basic discipline of mind 
training or lojong is a sevenfold cleaning or processing of one's mind.

     This book is based on the basic Kadampa text, The Root Text of the 
Seven Points of Training the Mind, and on the commentary by Jamgon 
Kongtrul. In Tibetan the commentary is called Changchup Shunglam. Shung 
is the word used for "government" and also for "main body." So shung 
means "main governing body." For instance, we could call the Tibetan 
government po shung--po meaning "Tibet," shung meaning "government." The 
government that is supposed to run a country is a wide administration 
rather than a narrow administration: it takes care of the country, the 
economics, politics, and domestic situations. Shung is actually the 
working basis, the main working stream. Lam means "path." So shunglam is 
a general highway, so to speak, a basic process of working toward 
enlightenment. In other words, it is the mahayana approach. It is the 
highway that everybody goes on, a wide way, extraordinarily wide and 
extraordinarily open. Chanchup means "enlightenment," shung means "wide" 
or "basic," and lam means "path." So the title of the commentary is The 
Basic Path Toward Enlightenment.

     The main text is based on Atisha's teachings on lojong and comes 
from the Kadam school of Tibetan Buddhism, which developed around the 
time of Marpa and Milarepa, when Tibetan monasticism had begun to take 
place and become deep-rooted. The Kagyupas received these instructions on 
the proper practice of mahayana Buddhism through Gampopa, who studied 
with Milarepa as well as with Kadam teachers. There is what is known as 
the contemplative Kadam school and the intellectual Kadam school. What we 
are doing here is related to the Kadam school's contemplative tradition. 
The Gelukpas specialized in dialectics and took a more philosophical 
approach to understanding the Kadam tradition.

     The word kadam has an interesting meaning for us. Ka means 
"command," as when a general gives a pep talk to his or her troops or a 
king gives a command to his ministers. Or we could say "Logos," or 
"word," as in the Christian tradition: "In the beginning was the Word." 
That kind of Word is a fundamental sacred command, the first that was 
uttered at all! In this case, ka refers to a sense of absolute truth and 
a sense of practicality or workability from the individual's point of 
view. Dam is "oral teaching," "personal teaching," that is, a manual on 
how to handle our life properly. So ka and dam mixed together means that 
all the ka, all the commands or messages, are regarded as practical and 
workable oral teachings. They are regarded as a practical working basis 
for students who are involved with contemplative disciplines. That is the 
basic meaning of kadam.

     The few lists presented here are very simple ones, nothing 
particularly philosophical. It is purely what one of the great Kagyu 
teachers regarded as a "grandmother's fingerpoint." When a grandmother 
says, "This is the place where I used to go and pick corn, collect wild 
vegetables," she usually uses her finger rather than writing on paper or 
using a map. So it is a grandmother's approach at this point.

     In my own case, having studied philosophy a lot, the first time 
Jamgon Kongtrul suggested that I read and study this book, Changchup 
Shunglam, 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. And that sense of simplicity still continues. It is so 
precious and so direct. I do not know what kind of words to use to 
describe it. It is somewhat rugged, but at the same time it is so 
soothing to read such writing. That is one of the characteristics of 
Jamgon Kongtrul--he can change his tone completely, as if he were a 
different author altogether. Whenever he writes on a particular subject, 
he changes his approach accordingly, and his basic awareness to relate 
with the audience becomes entirely different.

     Jamgon Kongtrul's commentary on the Kadampa slogans is one of the 
best books I studied in the early stages of my monastic kick. I was going 
to become a simple little monk. I was going to study these things and 
become a good little Buddhist and a contemplative-type person. Such a 
thread still holds throughout my life. In spite of complications in my 
life and organizational problems, I still feel that I am basically a 
simple, romantic Buddhist who has immense feeling toward the teachers and 
the teaching.

     What has been said is a drop of golden liquid. Each time you read 
such a book it confirms again and again that there is something about it 
which makes everythin very simple and direct. That makes me immensely 
happy. I sleep well, too. There is a hard-edged quality of cutting down 
preconceptions and other ego battles that might be involved in presenting 
the teaching. But at the same time there is always a soft spot of 
devotion and simplicity in mahayana Buddhism which you can never forget. 
That is very important. I am not particularly trying to be dramatic. If 
it comes through that way, it's too bad. But I really do feel 
extraordinarily positive about Jamgon Kongtrul and his approach to this 
teaching.

Point One

         The Preliminaries, Which Are a Basis for Dharma Practice

1  First, train in the preliminaries.

In practicing the slogans and in your daily life, you should maintain an 
awareness of [1] the preciousness of human life and the particular good 
fortune of life in an environment in which you can hear the teachings of 
buddhadharma; [2] the reality of death, that it comes suddenly and 
without warning; [3] the entrapment of karma--that whatever you do, 
whether virtuous or not, only further entraps you in the chain of cause 
and effect; and [4] the intensity and inevitability of suffering for 
yourself and for all sentient beings. This is called "taking an attitude 
of the four reminders."

     With that attitude as a base, you should call upon your guru with 
devotion, inviting into yourself the atmosphere of sanity inspired by his 
or her example, and vowing to cut the roots of further ignorance and 
suffering. This ties in very closely with the notion of maitri, or 
loving-kindness. In the traditional analogy of one's spiritual path, the 
only pure loving object seems to be somebody who can show you the path. 
You could have a loving relationship with your parents, relatives, and so 
forth, but there are still problems with that: your neurosis goes along 
with it. A pure love affair can only take place with one's teacher. So 
that ideal sympathetic object is used as a starting point, a way of 
developing a relationship beyond your own neurosis. Particularly in the 
mahayana, you relate to the teacher as someone who cheers you up from 
depression and brings you down from excitement, a kind of moderator 
principle. The teacher is regarded as important from that point of view.

     This slogan establishes the contrast between samsara--the epitome of 
pain, imprisonment, and insanity--and the root guru--the embodiment of 
openness, freedom, and sanity--as the fundamental basis for all practice. 
As such, it is heavily influenced by the vajrayana tradition.

Point Two

           The Main Practice, Which is Training in Bodhichitta

                    Ultimate and Relative Bodhichitta

           Ultimate Bodhichitta and the Paramita of Generosity

The ultimate or absolute bodhichitta principle is based on developing the 
paramita of generosity, which is symbolized by a wish-fulfilling jewel. 
The Tibetan word for generosity, jinpa, means "giving," "opening," or 
"parting." So the notion of generosity means not holding back but giving 
constantly. Generosity is self-existing openness, complete openness. You 
are no longer subject to cultivating your own scheme or project. And the 
best way to open yourself up is to make friends with yourself and with 
others.

     Traditionally, there are three types of generosity. The first one is 
ordinary generosity, giving material goods or providing comfortable 
situations for others. The second one is 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. That is the gift of fearlessness. The 
third type of generosity is the gift of dharma. You show others that 
there is a path that consists of discipline, meditation, and intellect or 
knowledge. Through all three types of generosity, you can open up other
people's minds. In that way their closedness, wretchedness, and small 
thinking can be turned into a larger vision.

     That is the basic vision of mahayana altogether: to let people think 
bigger, think greater. We can afford to open ourselves and join the rest 
of the world with a sense of tremendous generosity, tremendous goodness, 
and tremendous richness. The more we give, the more we gain--although 
what we might gain should not be our reason for giving. Rather, the more 
we give, the more we are inspired to give constantly. And the gaining 
process happens naturally, automatically, always.

     The opposite of generosity is stinginess, holding back--having a 
poverty mentality, basically speaking. The basic principle of the 
ultimate bodhichitta slogans is to rest in the eighth consciousness, or 
alaya, and not follow our discursive thoughts. Alaya is a Sanskrit word 
meaning "basis," or sometimes "abode" or "home," as in Himalaya, "abode 
of snow." So it has that idea of a vast range. It is the fundamental 
state of consciousness, before it is divided into "I" and "other," or 
into the various emotions. It is the basic ground where things are 
processed, where things exist. In order to rest in the nature of alaya, 
you need to go beyond your poverty attitude and realize that your alaya 
is as good as anyone else's alaya. You have a sense of richness and self-
sufficiency. You can do it, and you can afford to give out as well. And 
the ultimate bodhichitta slogans [slogans 2-6] are the basic points of 
reference through which we are going to familiarize ourselves with 
ultimate bodhichitta.

     Ultimate bodhichitta is similar to the absolute shunyata principle. 
And whenever there is the absolute shunyata principle, we have to have a 
basic understanding of absolute compassion at the same time. Shunyata 
literally means "openness" or "emptiness." Shunyata is basically 
understanding nonexistence. When you begin realizing nonexistence, then 
you can afford to be more compassionate, more giving. A problem is that 
usually we would like to hold on to our territory and fixate on that 
particular ground. Once we begin to fixate on that ground, we have no way 
to give. Understanding shunyata means that we begin to realize that there 
is no ground to get, that we are ultimately free, nonaggressive, open. We 
realize that we are actually nonexistent ourselves. We are not--no, 
rather. (1) Then we can give. We have lots to gain and nothing to lose at 
that point. It is very basic.

     Compassion is based on some sense of "soft spot" in us. It is as if 
we had a pimple on our body that was very sore--so sore that we do not 
want to rub it or scratch it. During our shower we do not want to rub too 
much soap over it because it hurts. There is a sore point or soft spot 
which happens to be painful to rub, painful to put hot or cold water 
over.

     That sore spot on our body is an analogy for compassion. Why? 
Because even in the midst of immense aggression, insensitivity in our 
life, or laziness, we always have a soft spot, some point we can 
cultivate--or at least not bruise. Every human being has that kind of 
basic sore spot, including animals. Whether we are crazy, dull, 
aggressive, ego-tripping, whatever we might be, there is still that sore 
spot taking place in us. An open wound, which might be a more vivid 
analogy, is always there. That open wound is usually very inconvenient 
and problematic. We don't like it. We would like to be tough. We would 
like to fight, to come out strong, so we do not have to defend any aspect 
of ourselves. We would like to attack our enemy on the spot, single-
handedly. We would like to lay our trips on everybody completely and 
properly, so that we have nothing to hide. That way, if somebody decides 
to hit us back, we are not wounded. And hopefully, nobody will hit us on 
that sore spot, that wound that exists in us. Our basic makeup, the basic 
constituents of our mind, are based on passion and compassion at the same 
time. But however confused we might be, however much of a cosmic monster 
we might be, still there is an open wound or sore spot in us always. 
There always will be a sore spot. 

     Sometimes people translate that sore spot or open wound as 
"religious conviction" or "mystical experience." But let us give that up. 
It has nothing to do with Buddhism, nothing to do with Christianity, and 
moreover, nothing to do with anything else at all. It is just an open 
wound, a very simple open wound. That is very nice--at least we are 
accessible somewhere. We are not completely covered with a suit of armor 
all the time. We have a sore spot somewhere. Such a relief! Thank earth!

     Because of that particular sore spot, even if we are a cosmic 
monster--Mussolini, Mao Tse-tung, or Hitler--we can still fall in love. 
We can still appreciate beauty, art, poetry, or music. The rest of us 
could be covered with iron cast shields, but some sore spot always exists 

in us, which is fantastic. That sore spot is known as embryonic 
compassion, potential compassion. At least we have some kind of gap, some 
discrepancy in our state of being which allows basic sanity to shine 
through.

     Our level of sanity could be very primitive. Our sore spot could be 
just purely the love of tortillas or the love of curries. But that's good 
enough. We have some kind of opening. It doesn't matter what it is love 
of as long as there is a sore spot, an open wound. That's good. That is 
where all the germs could get in and begin to impregnate and take 
possession of us and influence our system. And that is precisely how the 
compassionate attitude supposedly takes place.

     Not only that, but there is also an inner wound, which is called 
tathagatagarbha, or buddha nature. Tathagatagarbha is like a heart that 
is sliced and bruised by wisdom and compassion. When the external wound 
and the internal wound begin to meet and communicate, then we begin to 
realize that our whole being is made out of one complete sore spot 
altogether, which is called "bodhisattva fever."  That vulnerability is 
compassion. We really have no way to defend ourselves anymore at all. A 
gigantic cosmic wound is all over the place--an inward wound and an 
external wound at the same time. Both are sensitive to cold air, hot air, 
and little disturbances of atmosphere which begin to affect us both 
inwardly and outwardly. It is the living flame of love, if you would like 
to call it that. But we should be very careful what we say about love. 
What is love? Do we know love? It is a vague word. In this case we are 
not even calling it love. Nobody before puberty would have any sense of 
sexuality or of love affairs. Likewise, since we haven't broken through 
to understand what our soft spot is all about, we cannot talk about love, 
we can only talk about passion. It sounds fantastic, but it actually 
doesn't say as much as love, which is very heavy. Compassion is a kind of 
passion, com-passion, which is easy to work with.

     There is a slit in our skin, a wound. It's very harsh treatment, in 
some sense; but on the other hand, it's very gentle. The intention is 
gentle, but the practice is very harsh. By combining the intention and 
the practice, you ae being "harshed," and also you are being "gentled," 
so to speak--both together. That makes you into a bodhisattva. You have 
to go through that kind of process. You have to jump into the blender. It 
is necessary for you to do that. Just jump into the blender and work with 
it. Then you will begin to feel that you are swimming in the blender. You 
might even enjoy it a little bit, after you have been processed. So an 
actual understanding of ultimate bodhichitta only comes from compassion. 
In other words, a purely logical, professional, or scientific conclusion 
doesn't bring you to that. The five ultimate bodhichitta slogans are 
steps toward a compassionate approach. 

     A lot of you seemingly, very shockingly, are not particularly 
compassionate. You are not saving your grandma from drowning and you are 
not saving your pet dog from getting killed. Therefore, we have to go 
through this subject of compassion. Compassion is a very, very large 
subject, an extraordinarily large subject, which includes how to be 
compassionate. And actually, ultimate bodhichitta is preparation for 
relative bodhichitta. Before we cultivate compassion, we first need to 
understand how to be properly. How to love your grandma or how to love 
your flea or your mosquito--that comes later. The relative aspect of 
compassion comes much later. If we do not have an understanding of 
ultimate bodhichitta, then we do not have any understanding of the actual 
working basis of being compassionate and kind to somebody. We might just 
join the Red Cross and make nuisances of ourselves and create further 
garhage.

     According to the mahayana tradition, we are told that we can 
actually arouse twofold bodhichitta: relative bodhichitta and ultimate 
bodhichitta. We could arouse both of them. Then, having aroused 
bodhichitta, we can continue further and and practice according to the 
bodhisattva's example. We can be active bodhisattvas.

     In order to arouse absolute or ultimate bodhichitta, we have to join 
shamatha and vipashyana together. Having developed the basic precision of 
shamatha and the total awareness of vipashyana, we put them together so 
that they cover the whole of our existence--our behavior patterns and our 
daily life--everything. In that way, in both meditation and 
postmeditation practice, mindfulness and awareness are happening 
simultaneously, all the time. Whether we are sleeping or awake, eating or 
wandering, precision and awareness are taking place all the time. That is 
quite a delightful experience.

     Beyond that delight, we also tend to develop a sense of friendliness 
to everything. The early level of irritation and aggression has been 
processed through, so to speak, by mindfulness and awareness. There is 
instead a notion of basic goodness, which is described in the Kadam texts 
as the natural virtue of alaya. This is an important point for us to 
understand. Alaya is the fundamental state of existence, or 
consciousness, before it is divided into "I" and "other," or into the 
various emotions. It is the basic ground where things are processed,  
where things exist. And its basic state, or natural style, is goodness. 
It is very benevolent. There is a basic state of existence that is 
fundamentally good and that we can rely on. There is room to relax, room 
to open ourselves up. We can make friends with ourselves and with others. 
That is fundamental virtue or basic goodness, and it is the basis of the 
possibility of absolute bodhichitta.

     Once we have been inspired by the precision of shamatha and the 
wakefulness of vipashyana, we find that there is room, which gives us the 
possibility of total naivete, in the positive sense. The Tibetan for 
naivete is pak-yang, which means "carefree" or "let loose." We can be 
carefree with our basic goodness. We do not have to scrutinize or 
investigate wholeheartedly to make sure that there are no mosquitoes or 
eggs inside our alaya. The basic goodness of alaya can be cultivated and 
connected with quite naturally, in a pak-yang way. We can develop a sense 
of relaxation and release from torment--from this-and-that altogether.

           Relative Bodhichitta and the Paramita of Discipline

That brings us to the next stage. Again, instead of remaining at a 
theoretical, conceptual level alone, we return to the most practical 
level. In the mahayana our main concern is how to awaken ourselves. We 
begin to realize that we are not as dangerous as we had thought. We 
develop some notion of kindness, or maitri, and having developed maitri 
we begin to switch into karuna, or compassion.

     The development of 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. Discipline in Tibetan is tsultrim: tsul 
means "proper," and trim means "discipline" or "obeying the rules," 
literally speaking. So trim could be translated as "rule" or "justice." 
The basic notion of tsultrim goes beyond giving alone; it means having 
good conduct. It also means having some sense of passionlessness and 
nonterritoriality. All of that is very much connected with relative 
bodhichitta. 

     Relative bodhichitta comes from the simple and basic experience of 
realizing that you could have a tender heart in any situation.  Even the 
most vicious animals have a tender heart in taking care of their young, 
or for that matter, in taking care of themselves. From our basic training 
in shamatha-vipashyana,  we begin to realize our basic goodness and to 
let go with that. We begin to rest in the nature of alaya--not caring and 
being very naive and ordinary, casual, in some sense. When we let 
ourselves go, we begin to have a feeling of good existence in ourselves. 
That could be regarded as the very ordinary and trivial concept of having 
a good time. Nonetheless, when we have good intentions toward ourselves, 
it is not because we are trying to achieve anything--we are just trying 
to be ourselves. As they say, we could come as we are. At that point we 
have a natural sense that we can afford to give ourselves freedom. We can 
afford to relax. We can afford to treat ourselves better, trust ourselves 
more, and let ourselves feel good. The basic goodness of alaya is always 
there. It is that sense of healthiness and cheerfulness and naivete that 
brings us to the realization of relative bodhichitta.

     Relative bodhichitta is related with how we start to learn to love 
each other and ourselves. That seems to be the basic point. It's very 
difficult for us to learn to love. It would be possible for us to love if 
an object of fascination were presented to us or if there were some kind 
of dream or promise presented. Maybe then we could learn to love. But it 
is very hard for us to learn to love if it means purely giving love 
without expecting anything in return. It is very difficult to do that. 
When we decide to love somebody, we usually expect that person to fulfill 
our desires and conform to our hero worship. If our expectations can be 
fulfilled, we can fall in love, ideally. So in most of our love affairs, 
what usually happens is that our love is absolutely conditional. It is 
more of a business deal than actual love. We have no idea how to 
communicate a sense of warmth. When we do begin to communicate a sense of 
warmth to somebody, it makes us very uptight. And when the object of our 
love tries to cheer us up, it becomes an insult.

     This is a very aggression-oriented approach. In the mahayana, 
particularly in the contemplative tradition, love and affection are 
largely based on free love, open love which does not ask anything in 
return. It is a mutual dance. Even if during the dance you step on each 
other's toes, it is not regarded as problematic or an insult. We do not 
have to get on our high horse or be touchy about that. To learn to love, 
to learn to open, is one of the hardest things for all of us. Yet we are 
conditioned by passion all the time. Since we are in the human realm, our 
main focus or characteristic is passion and lust, all the time. So what 
the mahayana teachings are based on is the idea of communication, 
openness, and being without expectations.

     When we begin to realize that the nature of phenomena is free from 
concept, empty by itself, that the chairs and tables and rugs and 
curtains are no longer in the way, then we can expand our notion of love 
infinitely. There is nothing in the way. The very purpose of discussing 
the nature of shunyata is to provide us that emptiness, so that we could 
fill the whole of space with a sense of affection--love without 
expectation, without demand, without possession. That is one of the most 
powerful things that the mahayana has to contribute. 

     In contrast, hinayana practitioners are very keen on the path of 
individual salvation, not causing harm to others. They are reasonable and 
good-thinking and very polite people. But how can you be really polite 
and keep smiling twenty-four hours a day on the basis of individual 
salvation alone, without doing anything for others? You are doing 
everything for yourself all the time, even if you are being kind and nice 
and polite. That's very hard to do. At the mahayana level, the sense of 
affection and love has a lot of room--immense room, openness, and daring. 
There is no time to come out clean, particularly, as long as you generate 
affection. 

     The relationship between a mother and child is the foremost analogy 
used in developing relative bodhichitta practice. According to the 
medieval Indian and Tibetan traditions, the traditional way of 
cultivating relative bodhichitta is to choose your mother as the first 
example of someone you feel soft toward. Traditionally, you feel warm and 
kind toward your mother. In modern society, there might be a problem with 
that. However, you could go back to the medieval idea of the mother 
principle. You could appreciate her way of sacrificing her own comfort 
for you. You could remember how she used to wake up in the middle of the 
night if you cried, how she used to feed you and change your diapers, and 
all the rest of it. You could remember how you acted as the ruler of your 
little household, how your mother became your slave. Whenever you cried, 
she would jump up whether she liked it or not in order to see what was 
going on with you. Your mother actually did that. And when you were 
older, she was very concerned about your security and your education and 
so forth. So in order to welcome relative bodhichitta, relative wakeful 
gentleness, we use our mother as an example, as our pilot light, so to 
speak. We think about her and how much she sacrificed for us. Her 
kindness is the perfect example of making others more important than 
yourself.

     Reflecting on your own mother is the preliminary to relative 
bodhichitta practice. You should regard that as your starting point. You 
might be a completely angry person and have a grudge against the entire 
universe. You might be a completely frustrated person. But you could 
still reflect back on your childhood and think of how nice your mother 
was to you. You could think of that, in spite of your aggression and your 
resentment. You could remember that there was a time when somebody 
sacrificed her life for your life, and brought you up to be the person 
you are now.

     The idea of relative bodhichitta in this case is very primitive, in 
some sense. On the other hand, it is also very enlightening, as 
bodhichitta should be. Although you might be a completely angry person, 
you cannot say that in your entire life nobody helped you. Somebody has 
been kind to you and sacrificed himself or herself for you. Otherwise, if 
somebody hadn't brought you up, you wouldn't be here as an adult. You 
could realize that it wasn't just out of obligation but out of her 
genuineness that your mother brought you up and took care of you when you 
were helpless. And because of that you are here. That kind of compassion 
is very literal and very straightforward. 

     With that understanding, we can begin to extend our sense of 
nonaggression and nonfrustration and nonanger and nonresentment beyond 
simply appreciating our mother. This is connected with the paramita of 
discipline, which is free from passion and has to do with giving in. 
Traditionally, we use our mother as an example, and then we extend beyond 
that to our friends and to other people generally. Finally, we even try 
to feel better toward our enemies, toward people we don't like. So we try 
to extend that sense of gentleness, softness, and gratitude. We are not 
particularly talking about the Christian concept of charity, we are 
talking about how to make ourselves soft and reasonable. We are talking 
about how we can experience a sense of gratitude toward anybody at all, 
starting with our mother and going beyond that to include our father as 
well--and so forth until we include the rest of the world. So in the end 
we can begin to feel sympathy even toward our bedbugs and mosquitoes. 

     The starting point of relative bodhichitta practice is realizing 
that others could actually be more important than ourselves. Other people 
might provide us with constant problems, but we could still be kind to 
them. According to the logic of relative bodhichitta, we should feel that 
we are less important abd others are more important--any others are more 
important! Doing so, we begin to feel as though a tremendous burden has 
been taken off our shoulders. Finally, we realize that there is room to 
give love and affection elsewhere, to more than just this thing called 
"me" all the time. "I am this, I am that, I am hungry, I am tired, I am 
blah-blah-blah." We could consider others. From that point of view, the 
relative bodhichitta principle is quite simple and ordinary. We could 
take care of others. We could actually be patient enough to develop 
selfless service to others. And the relative bodhichitta slogans [slogans 
7-10] are directions as to how to develop relative bodhichitta in a very 
simple manner, a grandmother's approach to reality, so to speak.

                       Ultimate Bodhichitta Slogans

2  Regard all dharmas as dreams.

This slogan is an expression of compassion and openness. It means that 
whatever you experience in your life--pain, pleasure, happiness, sadness, 
grossness, refinement, sophistication, crudeness, heat, cold, or 
whatever--is purely memory. The actual discipline or practice of the 
bodhisattva tradition is to regard whatever occurs as a phantom. Nothing 
ever happens. But because nothing happens, everything happens. But in 
this case, although everything is just a thought in your mind, a lot of 
underlying percolation takes place. That "nothing happening" is the 
experience of openness, and that percolation is the experience of 
compassion.

     You can experience that dreamlike quality by relating with sitting 
meditation practice. When you are reflecting on your breath, suddenly 
discursive thoughts begin to arise: you begin to see things, to hear 
things, and to feel things. But all those perceptions are none other than 
your own mental creation. In the same way, you can see that your hate for 
your enemy, your love for your friends, and your attitudes toward money, 
food, and wealth are all a part of discursive thought.

     Regarding things as dreams does not mean that you become fuzzy and 
woolly, that everything has an edge of sleepiness about it. You might 
actually have a good dream, vivid and graphic. Regarding dharmas as 
dreams means that although you might think that things are very solid, 
the way you perceive them is soft and dreamlike. For instance, if you 
have participated in group meditation practice, your memory of your 
meditation cushion and the person who sat in front of you is very vivid, 
as is your memory of your food and the sound of the gong and the bed 
that you sleep in. But none of those situations is regarded as completely 
invincible and solid and tough. Everything is shifty.

     Things have a dreamlike quality. But at the same time the production 
of your mind is quite vivid. If you didn't have a mind, you wouldn't be 
able to perceive anything at all. Because you have a mind, you perceive 
things. Therefore, what you perceive is a product of your mind, using 
your sense organs as channels for the sense perceptions.

3  Examine the nature of unborn awareness.

Look at your basic mind, just simple awareness which is not divided into 
sections, the thinking process that exists within you. Just look at that, 
see that. Examining does not mean analyzing. It is just viewing things as 
they are, in the ordinary sense.

     The reason our mind is known as unborn awareness is that we have no 
idea of its history. We have no idea where this mind, our crazy mind, 
began in the beginning. It has no shape, no color, no particular portrait 
or characteristics. It usually flickers on and off, off and on, all the 
time. Sometimes it is hibernating, sometimes it is all over the place. 
Look at your mind. That is a part of ultimate bodhichitta training or 
discipline. Our mind fluctuates constantly, back and forth, forth and 
back. Look at that, just look at that!

     You could get caught up in the fascination of regarding all dharmas 
as dreams and perpetuate unnecessary visions and fantasies of all kinds. 
Therefore it is very important to get to this next slogan, "Examine the 
nature of unborn awareness." When you look beyond the perceptual level 
alone, when you look at your own mind (which you cannot actually do, but 
you pretend to do), you find that there is nothing there. You begin to 
realize that there is nothing to hold on to. Mind is unborn. But at the 
same time, it is awareness, because you still perceive things. Therefore, 
you should contemplate that by seeing who is actually perceiving dharmas 
as dreams. 

     If you look further and further, at your mind's root, its base, you 
will find that it has no color and no shape. Your mind is, basically 
speaking, somewhat blank. There is nothing to it. We are beginning to 
cultivate a kind of shunyata possibility; although in this case that 
possibility is quite primitive, in the sense of simplicity and 
workability. When we look at the root, when we try to find out why we see 
things, why we hear sounds, why we feel, and why we smell--if we look 
beyond that and beyond that--we find a kind of blankness.

     That blankness is connected with mindfulness. To begin with, you are 
mindful of some thing: you are mindful of yourself, you are mindful of 
your atmosphere, and you are mindful of your breath. But if you look at 
why you are mindful, beyond what you are mindful of, you begin to find 
that there is no root. Everything begins to dissolve. That is the idea of 
examining the nature of unborn awareness.

4  Self-liberate even the antidote.

Looking at our basic mind, we begin to develop a twist of logic. We say, 
"Well, if nothing has any root, why bother? What's the point of doing 
this at all? Why don't we just believe that there's no root behind the 
whole thing?" At that point the next slogan, "Self-liberate even the 
antidote," is very helpful. The antidote is the realization that our 
discursive thoughts have no origin. That realization helps a lot; it 
becomes an antidote or a helpful suggestion. But we need to go beyond 
that antidote. We should not hang on to the so-whatness of it, the 
naivete of it. 

     The idea of [that] antidote is that everything is empty, so that you 
have nothing to care about. You have an occasional glimpse in your mind 
that nothing is existent. And because of the nature of that shunyata 
experience, whether anything great or small comes up, nothing really 
matters very much. It is like a backslapping joke in which everything is 
going to be hoo-ha, yuk-yuk-yuk. Nothing is going to matter very much, so 
let it go. All is shunyata, so who cares? You can murder, you can 
meditate, you can perform art, you can do all kinds of things--everything 
is meditation, whatever you do. But there is something very tricky about 
the whole approach. That dwelling on emptiness is a misinterpretation, 
called the "poison of shunyata." 

     Some people say that they do not have to sit and meditate, because 
they have always "understood." But that is very tricky. I have been 
trying very hard to fight such people. I never trust them at all--unless 
they actually sit and practice. You cannot split hairs by saying that you 
might be fishing in a Rocky Mountain spring and still meditating away; 
you might be driving your Porsche and meditating away; you might be 
washing dishes (which is more legitimate in some sense) and meditating 
away. That may be a genuine way of doing things, but it still feels very 
suspicious.

     Antidotes are any notion that we can do what we want and that as 
long as we are meditative, everything is going to be fine. The text says 
to self-liberate even the antidote, the seeming antidote. We may regard 
going to the movies every minute, every day, every evening as our 
meditation, or watching television, or grooming our horse, feeding our 
dog, taking a long walk in the woods. There are endless possibilities 
like that in the Occidental tradition, or for that matter in the theistic 
tradition. 

     The theistic tradition talks about meditation and contemplation as a 
fantastic thing to do. The popular notion of God is that he created the 
world: the woods were made by God, the castle ruins were created by God, 
and the ocean was made by God. So we could swim and meditate or we could 
lie on the beach made by God and have a fantastic time. Such theistic 
nature worship has become a problem. We have so many holiday makers, 
nature worshipers, so many hunters.

     In Scotland, at the Samye Ling meditation center, where I was 
teaching, there was a very friendly neighbor from Birmingham, an 
industrial town, who always came up there on weekends to have a nice 
time. Occasionally he would drop into our meditation hall and sit with 
us, and he would say, "Well, it's nice you people are meditating, but I 
feel much better if I walk out in the woods with my gun and shoot 
animals. I feel very meditative walking through the woods and listening 
to the sharp, subtle sounds of animals jumping forth, and I can shoot at 
them. I feel I am doing something worthwhile at the same time. I can 
bring back venison, cook it, and feed my family. I feel good about that."

     The whole point of this slogan is that antidotes of any kind, or for 
that matter occupational therapies of any kind, are not regarded as 
appropriate things to do. We are not particularly seeking enlightenment 
or the simple experience of tranquility--we are trying to get over our 
deception.

Notes

Introduction

1. Hinayana, mahayana, and vajrayana refer to the three stages of an 
individual's practice according to Tibetan Buddhism, not to the different 
schools of Buddhist practice.

Point Two

1. The word not is a conditional one, as it is usually linked with an 
object--not this or not that; the word no is unconditional: simply, No!

--------------------------------------------------------------------

                        DISTRIBUTION AGREEMENT

TITLE OF WORK:          Training the Mind and Cultivating Loving-Kindness
                        (Sneak Preview - Intro, Chapter 1 and Chapter 2)

FILENAME:               TRAINING.ZIP

AUTHOR:                 Chogyam Trungpa

PUBLISHER'S ADDRESS:    Shambhala Publications, Inc.
                        P.O. Box 308
                        Boston, MA 02117-0308
                        617-424-0228

DATE OF PUBLICATION:    Copyright, 1993
                        Permission has been given for electronic 
                        distribution of the introduction, first
                        and second chapter.

ORIGIN:                 Tiger Team Buddhist Information Network 
                        (510) 268-0102 data  (510) 540-6565 voice
 __________________________________________________________________
| ORDERING INFORMATION: This book may be purchased by calling      |
|                       Shambhala Publications at:  617-424-0228   |
|                       Cost: $9.00 + 3.00 S&H                     |
|                       You may also send a check directly to the  |
|                       publisher                                  |
|__________________________________________________________________|

The publisher retains all rights to this work and hereby grants 
electronic distribution rights to the Tiger Team Buddhist Information
Network. This work may be freely copied and redistributed after 
September 28, 1995, provided that it is accompanied by this 
Agreement.     

If you find this sneak preview is of value, please consider 
ordering the book from the publisher (see ordering information).

Additional Sneak Preview books can be obtained by logging into the 
Tiger Team Buddhist Information Network:

Tiger Team Buddhist Information Network
1920 Francisco St., Suite 112
Berkeley, CA 94709
510-540-6565 Voice
510-268-0102 Modem <------------------- (ANSI or RIP emulation, 8N1)
E-mail: info@tigerteam.org  OR
        gary.ray@tigerteam.org