The following is taken from a public talk given by Chagdud Rinpoche in Los Angeles in 1988. It is the second in a series of archival teachings by Rinpoche that have never been published.
Whether we are spiritual practitioners or not, we all live in the same world. Whether we practice or not, we all experience the same relative, ongoing drama of happiness and sadness, hope and fear, good and bad: the whole gamut of experience. This is called relative truth, which means that it is not permanently true; it is changeable, momentary. We can’t deny it, because it is happening to us; still, we must not get stuck in it, believing it to be the complete truth. We have to examine things more deeply, to see through them. We must understand that there is a truth that underlies what seems to be true in the world. The essence of all things is absolute truth.
This absolute truth is with us constantly. It is not somewhere else, apart from our worldly reality. Rather, simultaneously with relative truth there is an absolute truth that we’re not quite aware of. That truth is beyond what we can conceive with our ordinary faculties. We can’t reach it with ideas or concepts.
What does all of this mean in terms of the spiritual path? How can we experience less suffering, and how can we deepen our awareness not only in this lifetime but in lifetimes to come? To understand the spiritual perspective, we need to realize that life is like a dream. However, even if we know this intellectually, although it may reduce the fear we experience in the context of the dream, it doesn’t make the dream disappear.
The nature of mind of every being is purity, or perfection, and this is sometimes called buddha, or true nature, or absolute truth, or some other term that has been coined to express our essence. Once we have fully revealed this essence—our own pure, intrinsic being—then the dream dissolves and worldly truth is no longer binding. Therefore, people strive very diligently to reveal the nature of their mind. Some pray and chant and contemplate; some simply relax and remain in quiet abiding. Both ways work to some extent. But neither method is easy, neither is complete.
Reliance on an external object, such as a deity, or a personification of God or of wisdom, helps us to some degree. But it will not enable us to achieve absolute enlightenment. This is because it does not go beyond our concepts; it does not go beyond the limits of our ability to mentally project an external being’s qualities and then relate to them. We might then conclude that it is misguided to use concepts or to develop a relationship with wisdom through a deity or some representation of enlightened qualities; it may just be an obstacle. So we might decide to just sit quietly and do nothing. But this will not produce absolute enlightenment either. If it could, there would be many beings who had become enlightened simply through a process of hibernation that prevented any thought from crossing their minds. But that’s not the case. We don’t have enlightened gophers.
We need to understand that in our spiritual practice, both tendencies—relying only on a conceptual process and relying only on the relaxation process—are extremes. We need to adjust them in order to find a point of balance in which we incorporate both aspects simultaneously. This can produce enlightenment.
The first thing we must do, then, is to understand the goal. What does it mean to be enlightened? What does absolute truth mean? What are the benefits of achieving realization, of abiding in the truth? We all have ideas about the goal: we have an idea of buddhahood, we have an idea of heaven. But what do those terms mean? We have to understand the goal, on both the relative and absolute levels.
Relatively speaking, if you want to get to New York City from Los Angeles, you have to have some idea of why you want to travel there, and some idea of how far away it is and in what general direction. Then you can choose a vehicle. You can drive or fly or ride a bicycle, but you have to know where it is you’re going and why you want to get there.
But if your aim is shy of the target—if you aim at your feet with your bow and arrow—you can’t possibly hit the long range target. Similarly, we need a full understanding of the goal, of what it means to reveal the true nature of mind. What limits people’s meditation is that they do not know the absolute goal.
The nature of mind is beyond our concepts. It is impossible to encapsulate its meaning with ideas: “It is this; it is that.” The only way to approach the nature of mind is to see that it is beyond extremes: it is indivisible, indestructible, true, unbreakable, immovable, unstoppable, and invincible.
This nature of mind you cannot prove. You cannot point at it and say, “There it is! That’s it!” You can’t define it by size or shape or color; you can’t isolate it. And yet you cannot deny it, because it is the foundation on which everything possible happens. For most of us, however, it is obscured and so we experi ence reality as divisible, destructible, impermanent, and so on. What we must do, then, is to dissolve the obstacles and obscurations that distort our experience of reality, and reveal what is intrinsically pure.
How far away is it? It is only as far away as the depths of our attachment. It is only as far away as the extent of our aversion. It is only as far away as the crust of our ignorance. When each of these three obstacles has been removed, it is there. It has always been there; it has never gone away. Because of our attachment, aversion, and ignorance, we just can’t perceive it. Once we understand where we’re aiming, what we need to achieve, we don’t aim at our feet. We don’t miss the target, because we’re fully aware of what must be done.
The following is taken from a public talk given by Chagdud Rinpoche in Los Angeles in 1988. It is the second in a series of archival teachings by Rinpoche that have never been published.
Whether we are spiritual practitioners or not, we all live in the same world. Whether we practice or not, we all experience the same relative, ongoing drama of happiness and sadness, hope and fear, good and bad: the whole gamut of experience. This is called relative truth, which means that it is not permanently true; it is changeable, momentary. We can’t deny it, because it is happening to us; still, we must not get stuck in it, believing it to be the complete truth. We have to examine things more deeply, to see through them. We must understand that there is a truth that underlies what seems to be true in the world. The essence of all things is absolute truth.
This absolute truth is with us constantly. It is not somewhere else, apart from our worldly reality. Rather, simultaneously with relative truth there is an absolute truth that we’re not quite aware of. That truth is beyond what we can conceive with our ordinary faculties. We can’t reach it with ideas or concepts.
What does all of this mean in terms of the spiritual path? How can we experience less suffering, and how can we deepen our awareness not only in this lifetime but in lifetimes to come? To understand the spiritual perspective, we need to realize that life is like a dream. However, even if we know this intellectually, although it may reduce the fear we experience in the context of the dream, it doesn’t make the dream disappear.
The nature of mind of every being is purity, or perfection, and this is sometimes called buddha, or true nature, or absolute truth, or some other term that has been coined to express our essence. Once we have fully revealed this essence—our own pure, intrinsic being—then the dream dissolves and worldly truth is no longer binding. Therefore, people strive very diligently to reveal the nature of their mind. Some pray and chant and contemplate; some simply relax and remain in quiet abiding. Both ways work to some extent. But neither method is easy, neither is complete.
Reliance on an external object, such as a deity, or a personification of God or of wisdom, helps us to some degree. But it will not enable us to achieve absolute enlightenment. This is because it does not go beyond our concepts; it does not go beyond the limits of our ability to mentally project an external being’s qualities and then relate to them. We might then conclude that it is misguided to use concepts or to develop a relationship with wisdom through a deity or some representation of enlightened qualities; it may just be an obstacle. So we might decide to just sit quietly and do nothing. But this will not produce absolute enlightenment either. If it could, there would be many beings who had become enlightened simply through a process of hibernation that prevented any thought from crossing their minds. But that’s not the case. We don’t have enlightened gophers.
We need to understand that in our spiritual practice, both tendencies—relying only on a conceptual process and relying only on the relaxation process—are extremes. We need to adjust them in order to find a point of balance in which we incorporate both aspects simultaneously. This can produce enlightenment.
The first thing we must do, then, is to understand the goal. What does it mean to be enlightened? What does absolute truth mean? What are the benefits of achieving realization, of abiding in the truth? We all have ideas about the goal: we have an idea of buddhahood, we have an idea of heaven. But what do those terms mean? We have to understand the goal, on both the relative and absolute levels.
Relatively speaking, if you want to get to New York City from Los Angeles, you have to have some idea of why you want to travel there, and some idea of how far away it is and in what general direction. Then you can choose a vehicle. You can drive or fly or ride a bicycle, but you have to know where it is you’re going and why you want to get there.
But if your aim is shy of the target—if you aim at your feet with your bow and arrow—you can’t possibly hit the long range target. Similarly, we need a full understanding of the goal, of what it means to reveal the true nature of mind. What limits people’s meditation is that they do not know the absolute goal.
The nature of mind is beyond our concepts. It is impossible to encapsulate its meaning with ideas: “It is this; it is that.” The only way to approach the nature of mind is to see that it is beyond extremes: it is indivisible, indestructible, true, unbreakable, immovable, unstoppable, and invincible.
This nature of mind you cannot prove. You cannot point at it and say, “There it is! That’s it!” You can’t define it by size or shape or color; you can’t isolate it. And yet you cannot deny it, because it is the foundation on which everything possible happens. For most of us, however, it is obscured and so we experi ence reality as divisible, destructible, impermanent, and so on. What we must do, then, is to dissolve the obstacles and obscurations that distort our experience of reality, and reveal what is intrinsically pure.
How far away is it? It is only as far away as the depths of our attachment. It is only as far away as the extent of our aversion. It is only as far away as the crust of our ignorance. When each of these three obstacles has been removed, it is there. It has always been there; it has never gone away. Because of our attachment, aversion, and ignorance, we just can’t perceive it. Once we understand where we’re aiming, what we need to achieve, we don’t aim at our feet. We don’t miss the target, because we’re fully aware of what must be done.
The following is taken from a public talk given by Chagdud Rinpoche in Los Angeles in 1988. It is the second in a series of archival teachings by Rinpoche that have never been published.
Whether we are spiritual practitioners or not, we all live in the same world. Whether we practice or not, we all experience the same relative, ongoing drama of happiness and sadness, hope and fear, good and bad: the whole gamut of experience. This is called relative truth, which means that it is not permanently true; it is changeable, momentary. We can’t deny it, because it is happening to us; still, we must not get stuck in it, believing it to be the complete truth. We have to examine things more deeply, to see through them. We must understand that there is a truth that underlies what seems to be true in the world. The essence of all things is absolute truth.
This absolute truth is with us constantly. It is not somewhere else, apart from our worldly reality. Rather, simultaneously with relative truth there is an absolute truth that we’re not quite aware of. That truth is beyond what we can conceive with our ordinary faculties. We can’t reach it with ideas or concepts.
What does all of this mean in terms of the spiritual path? How can we experience less suffering, and how can we deepen our awareness not only in this lifetime but in lifetimes to come? To understand the spiritual perspective, we need to realize that life is like a dream. However, even if we know this intellectually, although it may reduce the fear we experience in the context of the dream, it doesn’t make the dream disappear.
The nature of mind of every being is purity, or perfection, and this is sometimes called buddha, or true nature, or absolute truth, or some other term that has been coined to express our essence. Once we have fully revealed this essence—our own pure, intrinsic being—then the dream dissolves and worldly truth is no longer binding. Therefore, people strive very diligently to reveal the nature of their mind. Some pray and chant and contemplate; some simply relax and remain in quiet abiding. Both ways work to some extent. But neither method is easy, neither is complete.
Reliance on an external object, such as a deity, or a personification of God or of wisdom, helps us to some degree. But it will not enable us to achieve absolute enlightenment. This is because it does not go beyond our concepts; it does not go beyond the limits of our ability to mentally project an external being’s qualities and then relate to them. We might then conclude that it is misguided to use concepts or to develop a relationship with wisdom through a deity or some representation of enlightened qualities; it may just be an obstacle. So we might decide to just sit quietly and do nothing. But this will not produce absolute enlightenment either. If it could, there would be many beings who had become enlightened simply through a process of hibernation that prevented any thought from crossing their minds. But that’s not the case. We don’t have enlightened gophers.
We need to understand that in our spiritual practice, both tendencies—relying only on a conceptual process and relying only on the relaxation process—are extremes. We need to adjust them in order to find a point of balance in which we incorporate both aspects simultaneously. This can produce enlightenment.
The first thing we must do, then, is to understand the goal. What does it mean to be enlightened? What does absolute truth mean? What are the benefits of achieving realization, of abiding in the truth? We all have ideas about the goal: we have an idea of buddhahood, we have an idea of heaven. But what do those terms mean? We have to understand the goal, on both the relative and absolute levels.
Relatively speaking, if you want to get to New York City from Los Angeles, you have to have some idea of why you want to travel there, and some idea of how far away it is and in what general direction. Then you can choose a vehicle. You can drive or fly or ride a bicycle, but you have to know where it is you’re going and why you want to get there.
But if your aim is shy of the target—if you aim at your feet with your bow and arrow—you can’t possibly hit the long range target. Similarly, we need a full understanding of the goal, of what it means to reveal the true nature of mind. What limits people’s meditation is that they do not know the absolute goal.
The nature of mind is beyond our concepts. It is impossible to encapsulate its meaning with ideas: “It is this; it is that.” The only way to approach the nature of mind is to see that it is beyond extremes: it is indivisible, indestructible, true, unbreakable, immovable, unstoppable, and invincible.
This nature of mind you cannot prove. You cannot point at it and say, “There it is! That’s it!” You can’t define it by size or shape or color; you can’t isolate it. And yet you cannot deny it, because it is the foundation on which everything possible happens. For most of us, however, it is obscured and so we experi ence reality as divisible, destructible, impermanent, and so on. What we must do, then, is to dissolve the obstacles and obscurations that distort our experience of reality, and reveal what is intrinsically pure.
How far away is it? It is only as far away as the depths of our attachment. It is only as far away as the extent of our aversion. It is only as far away as the crust of our ignorance. When each of these three obstacles has been removed, it is there. It has always been there; it has never gone away. Because of our attachment, aversion, and ignorance, we just can’t perceive it. Once we understand where we’re aiming, what we need to achieve, we don’t aim at our feet. We don’t miss the target, because we’re fully aware of what must be done.
The following is taken from a public talk given by Chagdud Rinpoche in Los Angeles in 1988. It is the second in a series of archival teachings by Rinpoche that have never been published.
Whether we are spiritual practitioners or not, we all live in the same world. Whether we practice or not, we all experience the same relative, ongoing drama of happiness and sadness, hope and fear, good and bad: the whole gamut of experience. This is called relative truth, which means that it is not permanently true; it is changeable, momentary. We can’t deny it, because it is happening to us; still, we must not get stuck in it, believing it to be the complete truth. We have to examine things more deeply, to see through them. We must understand that there is a truth that underlies what seems to be true in the world. The essence of all things is absolute truth.
This absolute truth is with us constantly. It is not somewhere else, apart from our worldly reality. Rather, simultaneously with relative truth there is an absolute truth that we’re not quite aware of. That truth is beyond what we can conceive with our ordinary faculties. We can’t reach it with ideas or concepts.
What does all of this mean in terms of the spiritual path? How can we experience less suffering, and how can we deepen our awareness not only in this lifetime but in lifetimes to come? To understand the spiritual perspective, we need to realize that life is like a dream. However, even if we know this intellectually, although it may reduce the fear we experience in the context of the dream, it doesn’t make the dream disappear.
The nature of mind of every being is purity, or perfection, and this is sometimes called buddha, or true nature, or absolute truth, or some other term that has been coined to express our essence. Once we have fully revealed this essence—our own pure, intrinsic being—then the dream dissolves and worldly truth is no longer binding. Therefore, people strive very diligently to reveal the nature of their mind. Some pray and chant and contemplate; some simply relax and remain in quiet abiding. Both ways work to some extent. But neither method is easy, neither is complete.
Reliance on an external object, such as a deity, or a personification of God or of wisdom, helps us to some degree. But it will not enable us to achieve absolute enlightenment. This is because it does not go beyond our concepts; it does not go beyond the limits of our ability to mentally project an external being’s qualities and then relate to them. We might then conclude that it is misguided to use concepts or to develop a relationship with wisdom through a deity or some representation of enlightened qualities; it may just be an obstacle. So we might decide to just sit quietly and do nothing. But this will not produce absolute enlightenment either. If it could, there would be many beings who had become enlightened simply through a process of hibernation that prevented any thought from crossing their minds. But that’s not the case. We don’t have enlightened gophers.
We need to understand that in our spiritual practice, both tendencies—relying only on a conceptual process and relying only on the relaxation process—are extremes. We need to adjust them in order to find a point of balance in which we incorporate both aspects simultaneously. This can produce enlightenment.
The first thing we must do, then, is to understand the goal. What does it mean to be enlightened? What does absolute truth mean? What are the benefits of achieving realization, of abiding in the truth? We all have ideas about the goal: we have an idea of buddhahood, we have an idea of heaven. But what do those terms mean? We have to understand the goal, on both the relative and absolute levels.
Relatively speaking, if you want to get to New York City from Los Angeles, you have to have some idea of why you want to travel there, and some idea of how far away it is and in what general direction. Then you can choose a vehicle. You can drive or fly or ride a bicycle, but you have to know where it is you’re going and why you want to get there.
But if your aim is shy of the target—if you aim at your feet with your bow and arrow—you can’t possibly hit the long range target. Similarly, we need a full understanding of the goal, of what it means to reveal the true nature of mind. What limits people’s meditation is that they do not know the absolute goal.
The nature of mind is beyond our concepts. It is impossible to encapsulate its meaning with ideas: “It is this; it is that.” The only way to approach the nature of mind is to see that it is beyond extremes: it is indivisible, indestructible, true, unbreakable, immovable, unstoppable, and invincible.
This nature of mind you cannot prove. You cannot point at it and say, “There it is! That’s it!” You can’t define it by size or shape or color; you can’t isolate it. And yet you cannot deny it, because it is the foundation on which everything possible happens. For most of us, however, it is obscured and so we experi ence reality as divisible, destructible, impermanent, and so on. What we must do, then, is to dissolve the obstacles and obscurations that distort our experience of reality, and reveal what is intrinsically pure.
How far away is it? It is only as far away as the depths of our attachment. It is only as far away as the extent of our aversion. It is only as far away as the crust of our ignorance. When each of these three obstacles has been removed, it is there. It has always been there; it has never gone away. Because of our attachment, aversion, and ignorance, we just can’t perceive it. Once we understand where we’re aiming, what we need to achieve, we don’t aim at our feet. We don’t miss the target, because we’re fully aware of what must be done.
The following is taken from a public talk given by Chagdud Rinpoche in Los Angeles in 1988. It is the second in a series of archival teachings by Rinpoche that have never been published.
Whether we are spiritual practitioners or not, we all live in the same world. Whether we practice or not, we all experience the same relative, ongoing drama of happiness and sadness, hope and fear, good and bad: the whole gamut of experience. This is called relative truth, which means that it is not permanently true; it is changeable, momentary. We can’t deny it, because it is happening to us; still, we must not get stuck in it, believing it to be the complete truth. We have to examine things more deeply, to see through them. We must understand that there is a truth that underlies what seems to be true in the world. The essence of all things is absolute truth.
This absolute truth is with us constantly. It is not somewhere else, apart from our worldly reality. Rather, simultaneously with relative truth there is an absolute truth that we’re not quite aware of. That truth is beyond what we can conceive with our ordinary faculties. We can’t reach it with ideas or concepts.
What does all of this mean in terms of the spiritual path? How can we experience less suffering, and how can we deepen our awareness not only in this lifetime but in lifetimes to come? To understand the spiritual perspective, we need to realize that life is like a dream. However, even if we know this intellectually, although it may reduce the fear we experience in the context of the dream, it doesn’t make the dream disappear.
The nature of mind of every being is purity, or perfection, and this is sometimes called buddha, or true nature, or absolute truth, or some other term that has been coined to express our essence. Once we have fully revealed this essence—our own pure, intrinsic being—then the dream dissolves and worldly truth is no longer binding. Therefore, people strive very diligently to reveal the nature of their mind. Some pray and chant and contemplate; some simply relax and remain in quiet abiding. Both ways work to some extent. But neither method is easy, neither is complete.
Reliance on an external object, such as a deity, or a personification of God or of wisdom, helps us to some degree. But it will not enable us to achieve absolute enlightenment. This is because it does not go beyond our concepts; it does not go beyond the limits of our ability to mentally project an external being’s qualities and then relate to them. We might then conclude that it is misguided to use concepts or to develop a relationship with wisdom through a deity or some representation of enlightened qualities; it may just be an obstacle. So we might decide to just sit quietly and do nothing. But this will not produce absolute enlightenment either. If it could, there would be many beings who had become enlightened simply through a process of hibernation that prevented any thought from crossing their minds. But that’s not the case. We don’t have enlightened gophers.
We need to understand that in our spiritual practice, both tendencies—relying only on a conceptual process and relying only on the relaxation process—are extremes. We need to adjust them in order to find a point of balance in which we incorporate both aspects simultaneously. This can produce enlightenment.
The first thing we must do, then, is to understand the goal. What does it mean to be enlightened? What does absolute truth mean? What are the benefits of achieving realization, of abiding in the truth? We all have ideas about the goal: we have an idea of buddhahood, we have an idea of heaven. But what do those terms mean? We have to understand the goal, on both the relative and absolute levels.
Relatively speaking, if you want to get to New York City from Los Angeles, you have to have some idea of why you want to travel there, and some idea of how far away it is and in what general direction. Then you can choose a vehicle. You can drive or fly or ride a bicycle, but you have to know where it is you’re going and why you want to get there.
But if your aim is shy of the target—if you aim at your feet with your bow and arrow—you can’t possibly hit the long range target. Similarly, we need a full understanding of the goal, of what it means to reveal the true nature of mind. What limits people’s meditation is that they do not know the absolute goal.
The nature of mind is beyond our concepts. It is impossible to encapsulate its meaning with ideas: “It is this; it is that.” The only way to approach the nature of mind is to see that it is beyond extremes: it is indivisible, indestructible, true, unbreakable, immovable, unstoppable, and invincible.
This nature of mind you cannot prove. You cannot point at it and say, “There it is! That’s it!” You can’t define it by size or shape or color; you can’t isolate it. And yet you cannot deny it, because it is the foundation on which everything possible happens. For most of us, however, it is obscured and so we experi ence reality as divisible, destructible, impermanent, and so on. What we must do, then, is to dissolve the obstacles and obscurations that distort our experience of reality, and reveal what is intrinsically pure.
How far away is it? It is only as far away as the depths of our attachment. It is only as far away as the extent of our aversion. It is only as far away as the crust of our ignorance. When each of these three obstacles has been removed, it is there. It has always been there; it has never gone away. Because of our attachment, aversion, and ignorance, we just can’t perceive it. Once we understand where we’re aiming, what we need to achieve, we don’t aim at our feet. We don’t miss the target, because we’re fully aware of what must be done.
