Surveillance Footage from Bodhgaya Bombing

Ghosts of Christmas Past

On 12-12-12, I bid farewell to blogging for a while.

Hello again.

Ordinarily, when I see helicopters flying around -- particularly those quiet, black ones with all the antennae -- and when I see squads of Men With Blonde Wives carrying light automatic weapons and wearing face masks, I figure, "Oh well, here we go again."

But, when such things occur in the peaceable realm of the San Bernardino mountains, during the ordinary conduct of a retreat with flexible boundaries, I escalate to, "Oh shit! Here we go again!" Or, as Butch said to Sundance, "Who are those guys?" 

Thus it seemed -- during the course of a memorable period beginning December 12, 2012, and ending  February 20, 2013 -- while I was relaxing, the United States of America was going stark, raving nuts. 

I was haunting the mountains and valleys proximate to Big Bear, California, when a manhunt began for a disgruntled, former Los Angeles police officer accused of going on a murderous rampage. When his truck was found, burning at the paved end of a high ridge road I know so well, the entire region burst forth with gunmen.

There were cops of every stripe and flavor going door to door, cave to cave, outcrop to outcrop. They were armed to the teeth, burning for vengeance, and desperately looking to shoot somebody. They paralyzed the hills and dales, closed trails in and out, and set up numerous roadblocks to stop and search all civilian vehicles. A one million dollar reward was offered for capture, and the sheriff announced, "Most all of the people in these parts have guns and know how to defend themselves," thus providing the unspoken codicil of "dead or alive."

Police fired on a seventy year old Hispanic woman and her daughter, injuring both, because it "seemed as if" the white truck they were driving "might have been" the thirty-something, black male suspect's blue truck. Those women should have known better than to go about delivering newspapers. As a fully trained and experienced former officer, the suspect was hiding in a house across the street from the police command post: easily the best place to be, given the circumstances. 

All of which was not without an even more generous measure of irony, for as my retreat began, America hosted yet another rampaging young man with a gun at a school, leading to the tragic murder of numerous children, and reigniting the ever smoldering national hysteria over gun control. While legislators geared up to ban assault weapons, limit ammunition magazine capacity, and engage in outright confiscation, the Vice President of the United States -- he chaired the "fact-finding" scene of the psychodrama -- advised Americans to go buy shotguns for self-protection.

Meanwhile, gun sales in the country rose to the highest level since the day after Pearl Harbor, way back in the Forties.

Oh, and the North Koreans insulted the Nagas with an underground atomic explosion on Lunar New Year,  and a meteor hit the traditional home of numerous shamans. Maybe the Nagas shot back an aboveground atomic explosion, but their targeting was off.

In the midst of all this, the Pope quit.

Maybe people should set to work on an Ark.

I suppose I could have meditated about all of that, but I didn't. I was in quarantine. Also, that Buddhists meditate "about" anything grossly misstates the case. Somebody might say the early Christians probably made that up. They de-linked meditation, thinking, and watching. They were out in the middle of the figurative and literal desert, suffering from function thirst, searching around for something to do in order to relieve the boredom. They decided to write a book. Lots of people still do that, and for the very same reasons. The early authors de-linked meditation, thinking, and watching so the book would look fatter.

Christians have that one book, which in the fullness of time became so fat it had to get whacked up and abridged. People then wrote commentaries to explain the missing parts. We, on the other hand, are Buddhists. We have thousands of fat books. We have fatter commentaries on the fat books, and even fatter commentaries on the commentaries. Which is a paradox, because we did not de-link anything; instead, we linked everything (interdependence), and then set about to decry the illness of efforts.

Actual un-retouched photo of interdependence.

So, anyway ...

I was in quarantine for the Illness of Efforts, but I called it a "retreat with flexible boundaries," so I could try to practice what I was preaching to myself. That meant I would press the pause button, go visit the dentist, and then go scuttling back to a rock formation somewhere. While I was at the dentist, I tried to be at the dentist. While I was at the rock formation, I tried to be at the rock formation. I thought being in-between might also prove useful. In theory, this sounds great; in practice, this does not go very far.

In fact, this is utterly contrived.

Utterly contrived.

This is America. Nobody is safe from America. Nobody can get away from America. Even you go out in the middle of nowhere, there are helicopters buzzing around and all sorts of peculiar trails in the sky. Even you go to the Third World, you see America on the T-shirts. There is no evasion. If America wants you, America will get you. The American president will fly a drone up your nose.

The best you can do is plop down somewhere, pay due respect to the spirits, and try to relax. It helps if you shut off ordinary social intercourse, mass media, and the internet. You'll tend to bring your own distractions with you. Alone with the sun, moon, stars, wind, and critters, there are not so many distractions. Granted, you might plop down in the back of a taxicab. This is possible but not necessarily feasible. Most people would at least make a show of heading off for the wide open spaces.

You might start off with some mundane observations: I am not safe from America, I am a Buddhist, I have read and heard all this Buddhist stuff, I still don't know how to fit it into myself.

"When brightened by awareness, thoughts can become better companions and can even contribute to meditation." -- Kyabje Tarthang Rinpoche

This is a simple and useful way to begin. All you do, as a beginner, is say to yourself that you will never be closer to the truth than you are right this minute, and then you can set out to complicate your intuition with your intellect. You can take a classical approach to all this -- for Westerners, in particular, it really helps. You can examine matters in terms of gratification, disappointment, and escape.

You think, "If I was safe from America, in my island paradise teahouse with the beautiful things and gracious servants, I could be a real Buddhist, and figure out all this stuff downright easily. That would be my gratification." Then you think, "It isn't going to work because I am not safe from America, the teahouse, the things and the servants are not going to help, I am still me and I still don't know squat. That is my disappointment." Then you think, "If I forget all about these labels and stop taking attitudes about myself -- this passive-aggressive, reverse egocentricity -- then I won't be trapped by labels and sick emotions. I can forget all about religion and remember how to be six-years-old spiritual. That would be my escape." Actually, that would be your escape, the fruit of your escape, and the means of your escape. The injunction would be, "Knock off labels."

If you sit around in the rocks somewhere, cogitating like that, pretty soon it will become automatic, and you can forget all about cogitating. You can move on, as people are fond of saying. There is a really great translation that helps you sort out all the Dharma you ever read or heard: the Nettippakaranam, from the Pali. Unless you feel -- as most Western Buddhists do -- that you can skip everything and jump straight to the sublime Ati -- and this because you heard it was "highest" -- I strongly suggest that you begin with the fundamentals.

The first of the fundamentals is disgust. Worn out disgust. Can't take no more. Hit the wall. Things don't work disgust. Crying in the dust disgust. End of the line disgust. Want to die disgust. Usually you can say "renunciation mind," but I like to say "disgust." Renunciation is a fearsome concept to Westerners: we might have to give up ordinary social intercourse, mass media, and the internet.  The trick is, with renunciation you don't need to "give up" anything. You can just recognize what works and what doesn't. You are then free to be disgusted with what doesn't work, which liberates the whole mess all by itself, naturally.

So, you have your big disgust catharsis, and you wake up the next morning, and nothing has changed. Looks like nothing is ever going to change. Fear sets in, and it turns cold. Cold fear turns to terror. Nothing is going to change and you are going to die.

That's a very good beginning.

What I Should Have Done

What I should have done is stay in school, manage my money, get a decent profession, and eventually retire: a mild, bookish, part-time dealer in Asian art and antiquities -- old brick storefront up a foggy alley, flat above. How romantic!

There is a white rabbit hopping around the shop floor. He never lets the Buddha enter his mind.

That is what I should have done; then, when I passed away, it would be found I left millions to the Dharma, so all the lamas could taste cool water. For the atomic, smallest moment, maybe the constant din of fundraising would no longer drown out the true guide's words. Do you think it is possible?

At least somebody would benefit, and nobody would get hurt. Its only water, anyway.

Instead, I wasted my entire life studying Dharma, getting into all sorts of crazy situations. I wasted my whole life thinking about books, teachings, temples, statues, sadhanas. I spent a fortune on empowerments. A literal fortune to fill a broken pot.

What a selfish bastard. The greatest lama of the lineage had already whispered in my ear, but I got greedy for more.

I stuck up my head when I should have kept it down, and I missed the main point.

Now, somebody has bombed the Bodhi Tree, and I am no earthly use to the incident. A life wasted studying War, getting into all sorts of crazy situations. Another fortune dwindled to nothing. I should have kept my feelings to myself. I should have kept my mouth shut. I should have never mentioned Vajrayana to anyone.

You, who are young and full of energy, please do not confine your studies to the words of masters. Sometimes, maybe, you can find something of value in the sobs of a fool, eating the last supper of his  foolishness.

Bodhgaya Bombings: Not An Excuse

Bombings in Bodhgaya shock humanity's conscience. Yet, even an outrage of this magnitude cannot become an excuse for anger, hatred, or acting out one's vengeful fantasies at the Dharma's expense.

Naturally, the question of "who did this" seems uppermost to many. Yet, a simple demand for justice cannot become an excuse for political spin. 

In some ways, the question of "who," seems not as important as "why," be the two overtly intertwined or not. Let us guard against becoming part of the "why." This particular incident tempts us with some sort of ownership. We should toss that ownership away, and clearly see what is before us.

If it has come to throwing bombs at the Bodhi Tree, we should start planting them all over the world, and then sit down.

Even if a Buddhist monument is destroyed, this becomes no excuse to forget all sentient beings.

UPDATE: 9 Bombs Target Mahabodhi Temple, Karmapa Monastery

"While four blasts took place this morning inside the Mahabodhi Temple complex, three occurred in Karmapa monastery, one each near near the 80-ft Buddha statue and at the bus stand near bypass, DIG Magadh range Nayyer Hussnain Khan told PTI."

The Hindu is running with the best reporting.

BREAKING: Mahabodhi Temple Serial Bombings

As of 0750, 7 July 2013, Times of India is running with this breaking story:

The Mahabodhi Tenple at Bodhgaya, and the Bodhi Tree itself have become the site of a serial bombing incident, which occurred early in the morning. Five injuries are reported. Two Tibetan pilgrims have been admitted to hospital.

Multiple blasts occurred within the temple complex, and near the Bodhi Tree.

Extent of damage is unknown at this moment, nor has anyone claimed credit.

Will update as information becomes available.

Happy 78th Birthday to Dalai Lama

On the sixth of July, we celebrate the best man among us. May his great vision for this world be supported by our hard work and devotion. Happy Seventy-Eighth Birthday to His Holiness Dalai Lama XIV, seen above as he appeared in 1950.

UPDATED: China Drops Ban on HHDL Images at Monastery

Voice of America is running with a story claiming that China has dropped a ban against images of Dalai Lama at Gaden Monastery in Lhasa. There are reports of similar measures at various other locations.

If true, this is very good, isn't it?

You know how it is when you go to see Holiness in big crowds? You can ask him a question in your mind, and he will undoubtedly answer you. Then, you stop and think, "Everyone in this huge crowd is asking Him questions, and He is answering all of them." You see things like this, and your faith cannot help but grow strong.

May we greet this news in similar fashion.

UPDATED:

BBC is reporting a strong denial of the story from China.

Dalai Lama's Akubra

Upon his recent arrival in Australia, His Holiness Dalai Lama was presented with an Australian "Akubra" hat, which holds a place in Australian hearts similar to that occupied by Stetson in the American West.

If you've ever spent any time in Tibet, you know Tibetan people fancy this general sort of design. From this point forward, there is no doubt the hat of choice will be Akubra's "Dalai Lama model."

UPDATE: His Holiness enjoyed this hat very much, and kept wearing it, reportedly remarking, "This is a very practical hat." This hat is considered iconic of Oz, so everyone was quite pleased with his remarks. One woman was even sufficiently moved to present her pet wombat:

Heaven Has Eyes to See

Poor, maimed rabbits are showing up outside my door. I do not know where they came from or how they arrived here. I do not know why they came here, as distinct from going any other place. I do not know who hurt them. I do not know how many others have been hurt or killed in this manner. 

As of today, eleven different injured rabbits are observed. All have single or multiple, small-caliber projectile wounds to the ears.

Happy Mothers Day

Mothers Day is fun to contemplate. Here, we see Tiger Boy being kissed by Tiger Mommy. In Buddhism, every day is Mothers Day and all sentient beings have, at one time or another, been our mother.

Your Majesty

Was doing some Riwo Sangchö, over a period of days.

The winds came up. They lasted for a period of days.

Lay awake in bed all night, listening to my heartbeat.

Was thinking of a far-away fire. A fire ten thousand miles away. 

I did not see this fire; felt none of its warmth, saw none of its light. What went up in smoke, I cannot say. I do not know what the fire was fed. There was sickness, so maybe the fire was fed sickness. There being sickness, maybe the fire was fed the cure.

Over here, dust storms swirled around me. Ravens chased witches on the currents.

I received a letter:

In the practice of holistic wisdom, great perfection, all is meaningful. One is [not] in the center, to 'repel bad spirits' and have enemies, [this] is not the way of the yogin. 

I thought about kings.

Once, there were kings. Each king wanted to be bigger than the others, and eventually, strife broke out among them all.

Time passed. Strife continued. The causes and conditions that produce kings dwindled and changed in their result.

Today, there are but few kings.

We cannot say postulated strife among kings was in any way a cause of the dwindling, dying state of kingship. To say that would only be speculation.

Someday, there will be no kings. Royalty will disappear from the blood and blood will disappear from the royalty.

I thought about kings, and since there was sickness,  I thought about cells. 

These cells are in the center. They repel bad spirits. They fight off the enemy of disease. This happens like a space dance, the way ravens chase witches.

We begin by understanding that thoughts about being sick or not being sick-such as thinking, "I am really sick," "I am just a little sick," or "I am not sick,"-are dependently arisen, that is, the idea expressed in one only exists in dependence upon the other. Another way to say this is that such thoughts don't refer to anything truly existent.
It is like having experiences in a dream . . . Sickness is not something that truly exists, it exists only in dependence upon our idea that we are sick . . .
This is why the yogis in Tibet have a saying, "My body does not get sick, my thoughts get sick."
We should use our intelligence to see that "sickness" has no essence. Then rest in that: in the true reality free of thoughts about being sick.

There is, of course, nothing in the center of these cells except more space.

If we compare the cells to kings, it could be meaningful.

Or, I suppose we could call the spirits in from all directions, and reckon that we paid them off with swirling smoke.

As to the way of the yogin, this I simply do not know.

That quote above is from Khenpo Tsültrim Gyamtso Rinpoche

Remember Trungpa

Today, 4 April 2013, marks the twenty-sixth anniversary of Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche's passing. He invested his life in us. May we every day remember him.

Family Member, Traveling

We used to catch the bus at the corner of Telegraph and Ashby, in Berkeley, California. We used to visit the university, and the shops on Telegraph Avenue. 

He would wear his robes.

I felt like Kipling's Kim.

Just to get out of the house, we took the bus up there, one summer's late afternoon into evening. We idled along the sidewalk, until he was suddenly taken by an M.C. Escher print in a shop window. 

We stood there a long time. He wanted to buy the print but in those days we never had any money.

I asked him why he liked the print. He said it was difficult to explain. He said, "This is how things are." He said, "This is how I see things." He said, "This shows something I will have to teach." 

He said, "This is very high understanding."

On the way back, he asked me how I got around with no car and did I always take the bus. I told him I always walked or hitch-hiked. He said, "Teach me how to hitch-hike."

So, we hitch-hiked back down Telegraph to Ashby, which isn't very far, and we walked home, and he said, "Next time, I won't wear my robe."

It was forty-five years ago. The world celebrates what he achieved since. 

I never came to much.

Suddenly, this evening around six o'clock, that M.C. Escher memory hitch-hiked back to me. Tears began falling as if there were nothing to prevent them. I was seized with such devotion and admiration for Rinpoche: at the notion he had invested such loving, painstaking care in a stupid boy; the notion he cared enough to show me a proper way to see.

So, you wrote tonight and asked me how things are, inside and outside me.

This is the only way I can answer you truthfully.

I am remembering my Great Teacher, and tears are falling, and if I had to give them a name I would name them tears of gratitude.

As humans, you know, we have a tendency to talk about love. Children talk about love with their parents. Poets enjoy writing poems about love. Boyfriend and girlfriend talk about love.

Husbands and their wives talk about love.

I don't know what love is. 

That abruptly-rising memory leading to today's tears is the reflection of what really happened.

Maybe that's what love is: that beautiful vajra tent of protection given to us when we are travelling.

Twelve, Twelve, Twelve

Well, this is set to auto-post at 12:12 on 12-12-12, even I do not have anything meaningful to say. Here it is right before Christmas, and I am like the snowman you see above: a lot of hungry rabbits and one lousy carrot. 

So, then --

The Year In Review. 

This coming Saturday is the first anniversary of the landmark legal decision that made it O.K. for me to tame debbils any which way seems useful at the time. In honor of the event, someone has gone out and found the following commentary from Trungpa Rinpoche, which thoroughly divests any sense of either dismay or satisfaction I might personally feel, lest I become (a) impatient, or (b) an exhibitionist.

"Always Abide by the Three Basic Principles
"The three basic principles are also described as [1] keeping the two vows, [2] refraining from outrageous action, and [3] developing patience.
"The first is keeping the promises you made when you took the refuge and Bodhisattva vows, keeping them completely. This one is quite straightforward.
"Number two is refraining from outrageous action. When you begin to practice lojong, you realize that you shouldn't have any consideration for yourself; therefore, you try to act in a self-sacrificing manner. But often your attempt to manifest selflessness becomes exhibitionism. You let yourself be thrown in jail or crucified on the cross... Many of our American friends have done such things. However, that approach should be regarded as pure exhibitionism rather than as the accomplishment of Bodhisattva action.
"Number three is developing patience. Usually, there is extreme confusion about patience. That is to say, you can be patient with your friends but not with your enemies; you can be patient with people whom you are trying to cultivate or your particular proteges, but you cannot be patient with people who are outside of your protege-ism. That kind of extreme is actually a form of personality cult, the cult of yourself, which is not such a good idea. In fact, it has been said that it is absolutely NOT a good idea."

I felt so much better when I saw this I went ahead and read it three times.

This coming Saturday also marks the day when I will begin a retreat with flexible boundaries, scheduled to end on February 20th, or the first Guru Rinpoche Day of the forthcoming Year of the Snake. In this particular case, "flexible" doesn't necessarily imply anything less than "strict;" rather, it means that certain longstanding obligations will be observed, and certain karmic linkages will be examined -- this last rather joyfully, I imagine. However, I hasten to say this will not be one of those "retreats" where one posts one's sterling visions on the Internet, so you can expect a fair amount of silence from hereabouts. We'll save all hoopla for a grand finale somewhere down the shaky river.

This coming Solstice, on Friday the 21st, which is supposed to be a big problem if you are Mayan, is also the first anniversary of my departure from Baltimore, Maryland's tender ministrations and new age hospitality. If the world ends, that will be some kind of symmetry, eh?

Maybe I should also interject that this year's Ngenpa Gu Dzom or Nine Bad Omens is from 23:48 on the 18th until 22:36 on the 19th, and Zangpo Chu Dzom or Ten Auspicious Omens is from 22:36 on the 19th until 22:36 on the 20th. So this shakes out as Ten Auspicious Omens on Thursday, Solstice on Friday, and Guru Rinpoche Day on Saturday the 22nd.

This coming December 27th is the anniversary of Kyabje Thinley Norbu Rinpoche's passing, so that is something to keep in mind. Dudjom Rinpoche's anniversary coincides with New Year's Eve this year, and Longchenpa's anniversary comes a month later on January 30, 2013. Gutor is February 9, 2013, and Losar is February 11, 2013.

Speaking personally, the year now passing brought a host of fortunate events, emotional trials, and medical challenges. Was disposed of deceptive attendants and transient "friends;" they were replaced by true practitioners: true spiritual friends. Had heart surgery again on January 9th, followed by useful hospitalizations at intervals thereafter -- a longstanding and difficult to diagnose condition was, at long last, properly diagnosed and treated. I now have the right medications, and even have a therapist who comes twice a week and helps me with agility and balance issues. This is all a blessing, you know?

The year now gone also marked the death of my dear Little Mister Bee Rabbit in the spring, and my beloved Marshimaro Usagi rabbit in June, just shy of his seventh birthday. This brought great sadness into my life, but was relieved by being reunited with a very old, very dear companion who was lost for many years, and is now ever so thankfully found.

I also now have three new rabbits, rescued from a chicken coop in a Chinese suburb. 

I cannot say that anything was actually accomplished this year. I was able to see the Dalai Lama in the spring, had some stupas made in the summer, and so forth, but as you will have noticed, I didn't write very much at all. I regret that I simply did not have sufficient energy to do something and nothing at the same time, so I opted to do nothing.

So, Merry Christmas to you all, Happy New Year to you all, Happy Losar to you all, and a heartfelt prayer that all your wishes for the benefit of sentient beings come spontaneously true exactly as envisioned. I'll be back when I get back, and I will try to write more in 2013, for those of you who enjoy my writing.

Many, many blessings to you.

Like Coming Home

I read what seemed a particularly well-sharpened passage the other day: a few lines from Diana Judith Mukpo's sometimes moving account of romance with her late husband, Chogyam Trungpa. They met, and quickly began relations, in 1968 when she was fifteen and he was twenty-nine. He was keen to marry her, and did so the following year, when she turned sixteen. I recall that the British newspapers were merciless, on the order of "mad monk robs the cradle" headlines.

The passage that caught my eye is where the former Mrs. Mukpo describes her initial feelings:

"...I knew that I had a very deep and old connection with him, and it stirred up a lot of emotion for me. The only way I can describe this experience is that it was like coming home. Nothing in my life had hit me in such a powerful way. I said to myself, 'This is what I’ve been missing all my life. Here he is again.' It wasn’t just that this was some cool, powerful experience. I knew him, and as soon as I saw him, I realized how much I’d been missing him. It was coming home. And from that moment on, I wanted desperately to meet him."

I find this to be such a wonderfully simple and accurate description of what actually happens in these circumstances, that I wish to share it with everybody. In particular, the idea of "coming home" resonates with what some of us have been fortunate enough to experience. Of course, this is almost immediately followed by what the Chinese philosophers call "...the myriad of things struggling to take form," or the crazy irregularities of love.

It can take considerable courage, and a not a few tears, you know? One has to applaud their strength. Although not particularly unusual by world standards, their relationship was somewhat unconventional by Western standards. By American standards, for example, Rinpoche was risking the possibility of a lengthy prison sentence. The young lady in question had to be not only true-hearted, but sure of herself, at an age when most young ladies are unsure of everything, and their emotions are volatile. 

Despite the age difference, despite the social obstacles, and despite some very vocal opinion at the time, these two old friends stuck together and managed to find their way home.

I write this for you travelers. I pray for your swift, unencumbered arrival. The idea of your continuum of personal love recognizing itself sufficiently enough to encompass current status is remarkable, don't you think so?

Sherab Palden Beru Passes

Famed Tibetan artist Sherab Palden Beru passed away in Scotland yesterday, at the age of 101. His body of work spanned generations, and became the main 20th century influence on how Tibetan art expresses the divine. He was a most gracious, kind, and generous gentleman who is remembered far and wide for an exemplary life. We will see many tributes to him in the coming days.

Show Some Backbone

"Don’t worry… 

You’re all tulkus … incarnations of beings who have taken the bodhisattva vow to raise all sentient beings to the level of complete enlightenment…

Just because you don’t have an important title attached to your name doesn’t mean that you haven’t appeared in this life to fulfill your bodhisattva vow…. 

Historically, the term “Rinpoche” referred to a person who is born with a “wealth” or “precious inheritance” of knowledge, whereas nowadays, it often refers to a person born into a wealthy family….

Be grateful that you don’t have a title…and rest assured that you entered this life and have the opportunity to continue in the stream of Buddhist teachings as a result of the vows and practices you engaged in during previous lives."

--- Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche

Reawakened Presence

So, then --

We can be thankful for the reawakened presence of Padmasambhava in our lives, no matter where we happen to be, and we can be thankful for the myriad ways this presence continuously announces itself. We have Padmasambhavas as teachers, books, images, sights of nature, melodies of wind, bodies of stone, and soft, infinite whispers. We have, you see, this immediate recognition of Padmasambhava as something without deceit, and therefore true. When we are bewildered, truth is very healing, and comforting. This is, almost certainly, not the first time we have been exposed to the truth; hopefully, this is the first time that truth will stick all the way to the last breath, and lead us to yet another reawakened presence.

I read a lovely passage the other day, attributed to Urgyen Tulku but without further citation. I immediately thought to share it with you, reproduced here as encountered:

"Ordinary people think that enlightenment is something that happens once, 'KaBOOM', 'ZAP', 'BZZZZZZZ', 'KAZAAM' and 'That's It' and we are forever there.

"It is not like that at all. Recognition of our Enlightened Nature or Buddha Mind, or Ordinary Mind for the first time lasts only for a few seconds. But due to the force of our habitual thinking that has been going on for countless lifetimes, Ordinary Mind will be obscured again by this conceptual thinking mind. 

"This is when training really starts, this is when what Great Masters call true meditation is. This is when we have to keep bringing or letting the Natural Mind arise again and again. 

"First we have to establish confidence that IT IS the Natural Mind. The difficulty in this is that it is so ordinary and simple that one will easily doubt that it is special. Therefore it is of primary important to have an authentic Master to confirm, clarify the experience. It is only that we have absolute conviction that it is what it is that confidence will arise spontaneously and slowly. This is not a matter of a moment but days, weeks, months or years training. 

"Until the time when one is never for a moment separated from the spontaneous Natural Mind is one confirmed a Buddha. 

"There are many statements and advice to this subject, I will quote only one here. 

"The training in recognizing mind essence is this: short moment repeated many times. There is no other way. A short duration guarantees it is the authentic mind essence, by itself. Many times ensures we grow accustomed to it. Attempting to keep long moments of recognition simply corrupts the natural experience with a conceptual state of mind. 

"You need to grow used to the natural state through training. The training is simply recognizing, not a willed act of meditating. In the moment of recognizing, it is seen. In the moment of seeing, it is free. That freedom does not necessary last long. The fact that there is no 'thing' to be seen is clearly seen as it is. It is not hidden; it is an actuality. 

"Short moments, but repeated many times. You need to train like that. Once you are fully trained, you do not need to think twice. 

"The training is simply to remain undistracted, because it is nondistraction that takes us all the way to complete enlightenment. Non-distraction does not mean deliberately trying to be undistracted, as we do when we replace normal thoughts with the thoughts, "I shouldn't be distracted" It is simply to not forget. The moment we forget - and we do forget- both the practice and all other things are forgotten, because our attention strays."

Isn't that magnificent? It strikes us as true, because it captures the essence of what we actually experience. It takes away all the pressure of "performance consciousness." This simple advice is in fact widely applicable. You could train a marksman, or musician, or learn to love this way.

The analogy of love is particularly apt. If we could grasp this analogy, we would not experience nearly as many ups and downs in our relationships as might now be the case.

Love appears suddenly, and effortlessly. In the initial stages, it is quite powerful: almost intoxicating. We tend to imbibe rather deeply at this point, but the cups are many and the canteen is still finite. When the drinking is done the analytical mind begins to dissect the experience, and out of nowhere love somehow becomes profound. We speak in terms of its gravitas. This is not so useful, but this is our habit. In the midst of intellectual battles, we tear up our love with tiger teeth and throw it around the den, harboring all sorts of opinions and suspicions. 

Eventually, we have a motion picture in distress. Scripts have been distributed, but each person has a different script. These scripts are rife with scrawled additions, hastily scribbled directions, and crossed-out dialogue. The pens are of different colored inks, and many sorts of handwriting. The accompanying musical score is even worse.

So, I think it is better if we approach love as "short moment repeated many times." This will have the effect of reawakening love's presence so that we do not need to think twice. Love's sweetness is constantly present. We can throw away the scripts. Now, every sound is sublime music, and nobody is drunk. We are in touch with the original source -- no need to carry around a canteen.

Padmasambhava wants us to be happy. Whether this happiness is great or small, he wants us to be happy. Naturally, he wants us to experience greater happiness, but to experience this we need to start small.

We need to begin with each other in a way that recognizes this is Uddiyana and we are the angels. We already know, don't we?

Maybe we just momentarily forgot.

The American President, 2012

We have lived so long as to see this. The consequences of this simple act will reverberate through many lifetimes, and will ripen into liberation. Our Secretary of State suggested that our President do this. She is truly an excellent advisor in that regard. By urging this action, and rejoicing in this action, her merit will also ripen into liberation.