One of the most important things for us as Buddhists is to understand the meaning of our taking refuge in the Three Jewels, and especially to understand the actual attributes of the Three Jewels in whom we take refuge. We can learn about these things from the many books about this, tapes of teachings given about this by eminent lamas, and so on. But the point is, if we understand the attributes or characteristics of the Three Jewels, then the whole process of relating to the teachings becomes very easy, I think.

In the context of taking refuge, the Buddha is defined as “supreme among those who walk upon two feet.” That means that the Buddha is supreme among all humans and devas, because he is their authentic teacher.

In the context of the vow of refuge, we define dharma as “supreme among all that is free of attachment.” This means that dharma itself is always free from attachment and all other kleshas.

What is dharma? Dharma consists of two things: tradition and realization. The dharma of tradition exists as written words found in books. Books and the words within them are inanimate. They are not sentient beings and therefore they do not, and cannot possibly, possess kleshas. So therefore the dharma of tradition is immaculate in the sense of being free from attachment.

Realization refers to all of the resultant states and levels of realization gained by practitioners of the shravakayana, pratyekabuddhayana, and mahayana through their practice of the Buddha’s respective teachings. So the realization dharma consists of the states of shravaka arhat, pratyekabuddha arhat, bodhisattva, and finally a buddha. In that state of realization and in the realization itself, the kleshas are eradicated, not increased, and one comes to possess the wisdom that knows the nature of things and the wisdom that knows the attributes of things. So the dharma of realization increases one’s merit and in no way increases or supports the kleshas. It is, therefore, accurate and true to say that dharma is supreme among all that is free of attachment and other kleshas.

In the same context, the sangha is defined as “supreme among assemblies.” In this world, there are a vast number of societies, groups, assemblies, and organizations. Some of these are held together by a common commitment among the members to try to do good; some of them are held together by a shared commitment among the members to try and do bad. The Buddhist sangha is defined by the shared commitment among its members to do their best to try to emulate the Buddha. And so we regard the sangha as a source of refuge because it is the next best thing to the Buddha. But the members of the sangha are explicitly not buddhas. Therefore they have kleshas. If the members of the sangha did not have kleshas, they would not need to practice dharma and would not be members of the sangha. A sick person will take medicine; someone who is completely free from illness is not going to take medicine because they do not need it.

The problem we experience very much nowadays is that we are unable to tell the difference or distinguish between a spiritual tradition and those who practice it. When we encounter upheaval, adversity, disputation, or controversy in a religious or spiritual tradition, we immediately denigrate the tradition itself. We say, “Well, this religion or this tradition is simply no good.” But this comes from our misapprehension of the behavior of some of the participants or members of the tradition as something inherent in the tradition itself. This is a problematic misapprehension for us because it causes us to lose respect for genuine spiritual traditions. And, for example, if we are Buddhist practitioners and we lose respect for our own tradition, it harms us tremendously because we leave the path. Without pursuing the path, we find ourselves unable to tame our minds and our kleshas.

Even when there are problems, we need to recognize that dharma itself is pure, but the humans who practice it are human beings who should be expected to be imperfect. The nirmanakayas who intentionally take birth among us in order to teach us and guide us to liberation, however they may appear, are essentially free from affliction. But practitioners, all of us, have all five kleshas functioning fully. The amount of kleshas that we have, the degree we fall prey to them, all of this is based on our attitudes, our intentions, and our previous karma. Whenever we act out our kleshas, this is not coming from dharma, this is coming from us as people.

In order to survive upheaval or adversity, we need to learn to distinguish between the dharma and the sangha, and to recognize that after all we are practicing dharma because we all have kleshas. No matter how much we may object to the errors or misdeeds of another, we have to remember that all beings without exception have countless times been our parents because we have all been born countless times throughout beginningless time. If we can take that attitude of empathetic bodhichitta and abstain from the demonization of others, then even when adversity arises, we will not lose our accumulation of merit and our accumulation of wisdom in an outburst of anger. We will know how to tame our minds even in the midst of difficulties, controversy, and adversity. We will learn how to recognize our own kleshas and tame them. We will continue to study and practice. And especially, we will not fall into the error of rejection of dharma and we will not harm others.

In the practice of the mahayana, and especially in the practice of the vajrayana, the most important thing of all is bodhichitta. Remember that all beings have been your mother countless times, throughout beginningless samsara. All of these beings are suffering. All of these beings lack the freedom to avoid the suffering that they wish to avoid.

So with that motivation think, “I will practice Dharma in order to establish all beings in the state of buddhahood.” It is not sufficient merely to just generate bodhichitta as a motivation, however, we also have to consciously and assiduously train our minds in it. For not training our minds in bodhichitta, we will lack the awareness and the positive habit that will give us a remedy in times of trouble. One day we will surely become angry. One day we will surely experience some kind of mishap or adversity, and it is extremely unlikely that, if we have not prepared ourselves for this by training our minds in bodhichitta, we will have ready access to the remedy for adversity or our kleshas.

Whether we practice the Nyingma tradition or Kagyu tradition, whether we practice the teachings of the old translation or the new translations, whether we are engaged in a seven‑day practice intensive or in our concise daily practice at home, in all these situations, and in the context of any and all practice, we need bodhichitta as our motivation and we need dedication to the awakening of all beings as the culmination and completion of every session of practice.

Those who engage in the concise daily practice of many yidams know that each and every one of these practices begins with the vow of refuge and  the generation of bodhichitta. Each and every one of them concludes with the dedication of the virtue of the practice to the awakening of all beings. But why do we repeat these things so many times in a session of practice? It is because we need this. We need to constantly reinforce this motivation of bodhichitta in our minds. By training our minds in it through constant repetition and reinforcement, our minds will become trained in it. The generation of bodhichitta will become easier and easier. And through that training, bodhichitta will arise as a remedy both for adversity and for our kleshas.

It does not matter whether you are practicing in your own personal shrine room or in the great and elaborate shrine of a Dharma center. If in your practice you have a fantastic generation stage visualization, you sit immovably with perfect meditation posture of the seven dharmas of Vairochana, and you recite the liturgy with beautiful voice and impeccable melody, even if you do all of that, if then you get up off the cushion, leave the shrine room, and there is no trace whatsoever of Dharma in your behavior, if your words are coarse of most degraded individual, if your mind is utterly unruly, then there is simply no point. It is said, ”Those who become jaded with Dharma are impervious to it.” Once we become jaded with Dharma, then forget about helping anyone else. We ourselves are beyond help.

We have been born in the dregs of time, so we have to accept the fact that there is always going to be adversity. That is just the way it is. But among beings born at this time, we are extremely fortunate. We are like those with eyes among the blind, those with working legs among the lame.

We have the opportunity to encounter supremely great masters, such as His Holiness the Dalai Lama, His Holiness the 16th and 17th Gyalwang Karmapas, His Holiness Minling Trichen, and His Holiness Sakya Trizin. We have the opportunity to readily and easily receive the most profound Dharma. We are really in a situation of someone who has found themselves on an island of jewels. It would be a tragic waste for someone to find themselves on an island of jewels and leave with empty hands. It would be even more tragic if we leave this life where we have this extremely rare opportunity with empty hands. If we become jaded with Dharma, we will be wasting our lives, and we will be wasting this rarest and most precious of opportunities.

The only solution to the very real danger of this is bodhichitta. And we need to constantly generate bodhichitta, reinforce it in post-meditation, and especially, cultivate it consciously during our meditation sessions whether we are practicing at home or at a center.

And when you recite the generation of bodhichitta, do no do it like a parrot chanting “om mani peme hung.” Think about what you are saying. If you do that, then you will generate the resolve to benefit beings exactly as all buddhas and bodhisattvas of the past have done and are doing until samsara is empty.

Generate bodhichitta not just with your mouth, but with your mouth and mind together. That will make your aspiration very powerful, and it will certainly become accomplished. On the other hand, aspirations made with the mouth alone—you may chant something but your mind is wandering—are not really aspirations at all. You simply cannot expect everything that comes out of our mouths to be accomplished. So in training our minds every day without fail in bodhichitta we must remember that we are constantly accompanied by our bodies, our speech, and our minds; whether we are at home or have gone out, we never leave these behind. They are always with us.

And anything we do—whether good or bad—is done by our bodies, speech, and our mind. We, therefore, have the responsibility to constantly consider: “What am I thinking? What am I saying? What am I doing?” When you examine your thoughts, words, and actions, if you find that they are in accord with Dharma, then take joy in that and make the aspiration that it always be so. But if you find that you have been unable to think, speak, and act appropriately, regret your inability and make the aspiration that neither you nor any other being ever experience this failing again. Doing this repeatedly by reinforcing bodhichitta in thoughts, words, and deeds, your bodhichitta will be strengthened progressively. As hard as it may seem to do this, remember that there is nothing that will not become easy if practiced enough.

I would like to clarify the issue of samaya. Nowadays, some people think that samaya is something that you should be afraid of, that it is some kind of threat that is hanging over our heads. Here [in the Clear Guide for the Generation Stage], samaya is explained as all included within the person of the guru, and it is divided into the guru’s body, speech, mind, qualities, and activities. Why do we say that samaya is all included within the body, speech, and mind of the guru? As it is said, “The guru is the buddha; the guru is the dharma, the lord; the guru is glorious Vajradhara, the creator of all.” The meaning of this is that the guru’s body is the sangha; the guru’s speech is the dharma; and the guru’s mind is the buddha. And that is why in vajrayana, we refer to the guru as the overlord of all mandalas.

While it is not that difficult to understand how samaya can all be referred to the guru, people still often develop a misunderstanding about what that means. Understanding only part of what samaya means—that it is the way that one relates to one’s guru—they misconstrue the bond of samaya as being something like a marriage contract, that when you undertake samaya with a teacher, it is as though you become married to them and they become married to you.

Marriage is a mundane, social contract. The contract of samaya is something entirely different. It is not primarily an obligation. It is an opportunity. It is more of an opportunity or gift than a restriction. The point of samaya is that a connection has been established between a guru and a disciple. The establishment of this connection gives the disciple the opportunity to cultivate faith and devotion for their guru. The establishment of the connection does not mean that the disciple is obligated to cultivate faith and devotion for their guru. It means that, without that connection, they do not really have the same opportunity. It is not the case that once samaya has been undertaken, that it is, henceforth, illegal for that disciple to fail to cultivate sufficient faith and devotion.

From the side of the guru, the establishment of samaya with a disciple gives that guru the ability to effectively care for that disciple, to guide them, instruct them, advise them, and so on, starting with the administration of the vow of refuge and up to that disciple’s achievement of omniscient buddhahood. So the idea of samaya is a long-lasting, continuous connection. And here, this is explained quite clearly in the text when it says, “The root samayas are all included in the nature of the guru vajracharya’s body, speech, and mind.”  But what does this mean?

The text says, “The samaya of body is to meditate upon one’s aggregates and elements as deity’s and to view all that appears and exist as the deity’s form.” The idea of this is that you maintain this connection by meditation on a deity. And, essentially, what this consists of is the growing recognition that your own aggregates and elements, as well as things in the external world, are of the nature of that deity; therefore, you also recite the deity’s mantra.

And it says, “The samaya of speech is to perform the vajra repetition taught in many tantras.” This means that as the speech aspects of practice, you recite that deity’s mantra. So whatever deity you are meditating on, whether it is peaceful, wrathful, or semi-wrathful, you recite that deity’s mantra. But this is not the idea that you are, henceforth, restricted to reciting that deity’s mantra, that you have an obligation to exclude all other forms of practice and so on.  Again, it is an opportunity, not an obligation.

So, therefore in our text, examples of different forms of mantra practice are given, “At the three times, repeat the three syllables, the five-, ten- or the twelve-syllable [mantra], and so forth, practicing the vajra repetition, and the particular repetitions such as the Totrengtsal mantra.” So, for example, you recite whichever mantra is associated with that deity and whichever other mantra practice you wish to do as well.

And then we come to the samaya of mind. Fundamentally, the samaya of mind is to cultivate bodhichitta. And we do this especially because we are practicing Mahayana; we are of mahayana family and we take the bodhisattva vow. We, therefore, need to train our minds in aspiration and implementation bodhichitta. The text says in addition to that, “The samaya of mind is to meditate upon self-awareness and to rest evenly, without strain from the liberation in their place of all conceptual characterizations such as I and mine, subject and object.” What this means is that we try as much as we can to let go of thinking me versus you, this versus that, and so on.

Then the text says, “The samaya of qualities is the generation mantra and completion of peaceful and wrathful yidams.” If it is the qualities of the guru, why are yidams specifically mentioned? Because all yidams are the embodiment of the qualities of the guru. So all yidams are included within the guru and are the display of the guru’s qualities; therefore, yidam practice is regarded as the samaya of qualities.

Then comes the samaya of activity. Activity is to help beings and support the dharma and the teachings. And we do this by relying upon dharmapalas (or dharma protectors) who remove conditions adverse to dharma; who support and protect our practice from obstacles both outwardly and inwardly. Therefore the samaya of activity is the presentation of prayer, offerings, praises, and so forth to dakinis and dharmapalas. The text says, “These things are accomplished continuously, supreme and common siddhis and the various activities will be spontaneously achieved by themselves without having to engage in any other means and without difficulty.”

So, understand that samaya is a term for those things that will enable you to practice and achieve awakening. If this is wrong, if this description of samaya is incorrect, then it is not my mistake; it is Guru Rinpoche’s mistake. Yeshe Tsogyal asked Guru Rinpoche what samaya was, and [this is what] he told her. So, it would be really good for you to understand this clearly.

The fundamental significance of the vow of refuge in the Buddhist tradition is that it is the necessary starting point and foundation for all other consciously adopted forms of moral discipline. It is said that there are vows for everyone, but not for those who have not taken the vow of refuge. The reason for the presentation of vows in Buddhism—the conscious adoption of moral discipline—is that, in his omniscience, the Buddha recognized that the only cause of higher rebirth is consciously adopted moral disciple.

In order to enable disciples to achieve continued higher rebirth and to continue to pursue the path, he therefore presented the vow of refuge and all the other vows that ensue upon it. To understand the context in which the Buddha presented these things, we have to look at the broad context of his teaching, which is what we call the four noble truths: The truth of suffering, the truth of the cause of suffering, the truth of cessation, and the truth of the path. We must start with the acknowledgement of our suffering. Anyone who was born in any of the six realms (or states) of samsara suffers. No one can say that they do not suffer at all. The claim that a being living in samsara is free of suffering simply goes against all of our valid experience. But suffering does not arise without a context, without a cause. And suffering depends upon the accumulation of karma. If you accumulate karma, you will suffer. If you do not accumulate karma, you will not suffer. This is what the Buddha was pointing to when he presented the first noble truth—the truth of suffering—in his words, “Recognize suffering.”

The first step is for us to recognize and admit our suffering because if we fail to do that, we will have no inspiration to escape from (or transcend) samsara. But other than recognizing suffering, we cannot simply try to get rid of it. We have to get rid of its cause. Therefore the Buddha went on and presented the second noble truth—the truth of the cause of suffering—by saying, “Abandon its cause.” What is the cause of suffering? Fundamentally it is kleshas—mental afflictions. Through the presence of kleshas within us, we accumulate karma. Negative karma causes us to suffer. Positive karma causes us to experience states of afflicted (or imperfect) happiness. All of this is of the nature of suffering and results from the certain cause of kleshas and karma.

How do we abandon the cause of suffering? We do that by the achievement of cessation. Therefore the Buddha taught the third noble truth—the truth of cessation—when he said, “Achieve cessation.” That is to say, you achieve the cessation of suffering by achieving the cessation of its cause, the cessation of kleshas and karma.

To some extent we could say that all spiritual traditions are concerned with the transcendence of suffering, and there are many varieties of spirituality in this world, some more sophisticated than others. But the Buddha, having perfected the two accumulations and achieved the dharmakaya for his own benefit and the rupakaya for the benefit of others, and having therefore turned the three dharmachakras, taught a precise path leading to the cessation of suffering and the causes of suffering, a path leading to non-abiding nirvana. He first mentioned this path by proclaiming the fourth noble truth—the truth of the path—when he said, “Rely upon the path.” The path the Buddha presented conforms to the needs and dispositions of the individual. It can be therefore divided into the path of the shravaka, the path of the pratyekabuddha, and the path of a bodhisattva. And each of these paths leads to liberation.

The reason why the Buddha began by saying, “Recognize suffering,” is that as long as we are in denial of suffering, we are like small children who will touch fire because they are too young or too naïve to know that it will burn them. Small children have to be kept away from fire by their parents, but when a child matures to the point where they know that fire will burn them if they touch it, they no longer have to be protected from it, and they are mature enough to be able to choose not to touch fire. In instructing us to recognize suffering, the Buddha was instructing us to gain an analogous type of maturity to recognize what will cause suffering and how to avoid it. In that way, the Buddha began his presentation of all of his buddhadharma with the four noble truths, and among them, what we actually practice is the fourth—the truth of the path.

The starting point of our practice of the path is the cultivation of moral discipline, and this is because in order to continue to pursue the path, we need continued higher rebirth. The only cause of higher rebirth is moral discipline. Is higher rebirth our final goal? No. All six realms involve suffering, but three of these realms—what are called the three higher realms or three higher states—have much less suffering than the states that are called the three lower realms. Through the conscious adoption of moral discipline, we can achieve these higher rebirths: As a human, as a deva, or as an asura. In these three states we still suffer, but we suffer so much less than those in the lower states, that we can continue to pursue the path. And the only way to gain this necessary resource of a higher rebirth is moral discipline. Nevertheless moral discipline alone will not lead to liberation. It leads to a higher rebirth that is a container (or basis) for pursuing the path, but that higher rebirth itself, because it is still an afflicted state, is not a state of liberation. Devas suffer from death and downfall; humans from birth, aging, sickness, and death; and asuras from warfare and disputation. So we cannot stop there. We cannot stop merely with the practice of moral discipline and the achievement of higher rebirth; we have to go further. Starting with moral discipline, the substance (or body) of the path is the gathering of the two accumulations—of merit and wisdom. And by means of these—the combination of moral discipline and the gathering of the accumulations—not only do we achieve a higher rebirth avoiding the three lower realms, but we also progress along the path.

The starting point of this process is taking the vow of refuge. Taking the vow of refuge is what opens the door to all of the eight varieties of what are called pratimoksha or individual liberation. These are the vows of a male or female monastic, a male or female novice,  a male or female upasaka (or lay disciple), the temporary 24–hour vow, and the eight lifelong vows. You can therefore think of the refuge vow as the only doorway into the buddhadharma or you can think of it as the first step on the path that culminates in liberation and awaking. But in either case, whatever analogy or metaphor you use, the taking of the vow of refuge is the starting process of the path that consists of gathering the two accumulations and that culminates in buddhahood.

In whom do we take refuge? We take refuge in the Buddha, the Awakened One; in the dharma, his teaching; and in the sangha, the community (or society) of those who follow the Buddha. Why are there three sources of refuge? That is because there are basically three types of people who engage in spiritual practice. Corresponding to these three types of people, the Buddha taught three vehicles, and as gateways into these vehicles he taught three sources of refuge. Some people are of the shravaka type. Shravakas (originally the term referred to the Buddha’s direct disciples) are those who practice in a group as a society, because the emphasis in their practice is on moral discipline itself and this is maintained in reliance upon and in relation to others—they principally take refuge in the sangha (or community). An individual of the shravaka type primarily takes refuge in the sangha, and for them there is the refuge vow, “I take refuge in the sangha, supreme among assemblies.” The sangha is unique among assemblies, organizations, or societies. There are many organizations, many societies in this world, but the sangha is a society that is specifically dedicated to the mutual support of the pursuit of liberation, and especially the pursuit of moral discipline, so therefore the sangha is the principal source of refuge for a shravaka type of person who therefore practices the shravakayana or shravaka vehicle.

The second type of practitioner is called the pratyekabuddha type. Pratyekabuddha is someone who seeks and achieves the realization of a solitary realized one. The pratyekabuddha type of person principally takes refuge in the dharma. This is because pratyekabuddha type people are very intelligent; they also usually take birth in what is called an aeon of darkness—a time in human history when no buddha or teaching of a buddha are present. Nevertheless, in spite of the dark age in which they have taken birth, through their intelligence and their previous dispositions, they realize the meaning of dharma. They recognize the twelve links of interdependence through the analysis of phenomena and therefore, since essentially they discover the dharma for themselves, they principally take refuge in the dharma. Therefore, for the pratyekabuddha type of person who practices the pratyekabuddhayana, there is the refuge vow, “I take refuge in the dharma, supreme among all that is free of attachment.”

The third type of practitioner is the bodhisattva type who will therefore practice the bodhisattvayana or mahayana. Such an individual principally takes refuge in the Buddha himself. The reason for this is that unlike the other two types, the bodhisattva actually seeks the achievement not merely of liberation but of full buddhahood. Therefore principally their practice consists of conscious emulation of the Buddha. Since they seek perfect buddhahood and since the essence of their practice is following the Buddha’s example, they principally take refuge in the Buddha. Therefore for the bodhisattva type of person there is the refuge vow, “I take refuge in the Buddha, supreme among all who walk on two feet.” So we have three sources of refuge to correspond to three types of people who therefore practice three distinct vehicles.

I need to make something clear about this distinction between the three jewels, and this clarification is especially needed in a culture such as western culture where buddhadharma is relatively new. Because we take refuge in the Buddha, dharma, and sangha, when we are new to buddhadharma, we generally have the attitude that all three must be perfect. We therefore expect that any member of the sangha must be perfect, and then as soon as we discover—as we eventually must—that members of the sangha have problems, then we decide that the whole thing must be a lie. We are disillusioned about the sangha. This causes us to distrust the dharma and lose faith all together. This, however, can be easily prevented by gaining an understanding of the attributes of the three jewels as explained by the Buddha. If you understand the distinctions the Buddha made among the attributes of the three jewels, this disillusionment and rejection of dharma—this disappointment—need not occur.

If the Buddha had said, “I take refuge in the sangha, supreme among all that is free of attachment,” then our disillusionment would be justifiable. If the Buddha had claimed that the sangha was free of attachment, then as soon as we detected a dharma teacher or member of the sangha demonstrating attachment, such as attachment to food or sex or pleasure of some kind, disillusionment would be justifiable. But the Buddha never said that. The Buddha did not say, “Take refuge in the sangha because they are free of attachment. He said, “Take refuge in the sangha, the best society, supreme among assemblies.” Now what does it mean? As human beings, we are involved in societies, groups, and organizations of all kinds. Many of these are inherently negative. Many of them are neutral. But among all of the societies in which we may take part, the sangha is unique because it is dedicated to mutual support in the pursuit of awakening. So the Buddha never claimed that we should expect the sangha to be perfect. But we should understand the sangha to be the best society.

He did, on the other hand, assert the perfection of dharma. He said, “I take refuge in the dharma, supreme among all that is free of attachment.” And there is a reason for this. Just as the Buddha did not claim that the sangha is free of attachment, he did claim that dharma is free of attachment. Dharma has two aspects: The dharma of tradition and the dharma of realization. The dharma of tradition refers to the Buddha’s teachings and the commentaries upon them. These exist as books. Books are inanimate objects. Books, the words in books, the ideas communicated by those words, as inanimate things cannot possibly have kleshas. You can never mistrust the message found in these books on the basis of assuming that it might have a klesha. It cannot. The other aspect of dharma is realization. This realization dharma is the achievement of the fruition (or result) of the path—the achievement of nirvana—whether it is the nirvana of a shravaka; the nirvana of a pratyekabuddha; or the great non-abiding nirvana of a buddha—the wisdom which knows what there is and the nature of all that there is, the culmination of the bodhisattva path. Whether it is the one-sided nirvana of a shravaka or pratyekabuddha, or the great nirvana of a buddha, which transcends both samsara and nirvana, realization refers to the transcendence of samsara and therefore all kleshas. When someone achieves realization dharma, they cannot and do not have kleshas. Therefore neither the dharma of tradition nor the dharma of realization can possess attachment or any other kleshas. Therefore it was correct and important for the Buddha to make that assertion. If you understand the difference between the dharma and the sangha, then you will not be surprised and disillusioned when you see flaws in dharma teachers or other members of the sangha. You will recognize that as members of the sangha they deserve your support in the mutual achievement of liberation.

In this way an understanding of the attributes of the three jewels not only inspires confidence in them, but it enables us to understand correctly the differences between them. And this understanding will enable us when we observe the imperfections of members of the sangha not to become angry at them, but to feel compassion for them. We will recognize that the other members of the sangha are attempting to follow the correct path, but that they have not yet completed it—they have not yet achieved the state of buddhahood—and therefore they still have kleshas. Recognizing that, we will not be surprised or shocked; we will feel compassion. This brings two benefits. The first, most obvious benefit, is that we will feel supportive compassion for other members of the sangha rather than aggression or anger. The other benefit is that we will not commit the downfall of abandonment of dharma. The abandonment of the dharma is said to be a more serious problem than even the five actions of immediate consequence. So by recognizing the difference between the dharma and the sangha, we will feel compassion and not anger toward the sangha, and we will ourselves be free from the abandonment of dharma. However we may act as members of the sangha, if we can remember that the buddhadharma itself is flawless, then we will avoid the problems of losing faith, losing heart, and these benefits will accrue. In the Uttaratantra Shastra by Lord Maitreya there is a very detailed and precise presentation of the attributes of the Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha—a concise presentation, a detailed presentation, and then a very detailed presentation. So as the Uttaratantra Shastra has been translated along with some of its commentaries, you would be well advised to study it and learn more about the three jewels. Based on The Words of My Perfect Teacher as a source text, what has been described up to this point is what are called the outer three jewels of the causal vehicle—the Buddha, dharma, and sangha.

When the refuge vow is given as the gateway into the path, it is usually conferred according to the causal vehicle and especially according to what is called the common vehicle. In that case, there are three particular attributes to the vow of refuge that identify it as the refuge vow of the common vehicle. The first is that the Buddha is identified as supreme among all who walk on two feet. The Buddha is perceived as the best of all bipeds, humans, and devas. But other than that, his unique attributes are not clearly specified. The second thing is the duration of the vow. When one takes the refuge vow according to the common vehicle, it is taken for the duration of this life, so you will say during the ceremony, “Preceptor, from this moment onward and for the duration of my life..,” meaning this life. The third thing that makes the refuge vow of the common vehicle is the intention with which the vow is taken. According to the common vehicle, one takes the vow of refuge because one recognizes the sufferings of samsara and seeks liberation from them. So one’s intention is primarily to acquire the means to achieve one’s own liberation. In that way, the attitude toward the sources of refuge, the duration of the vow, and the intention with which the vow is taken, specify that form of refuge vow as the refuge vow of the common vehicle.

The other type of external refuge is the outer refuge of the greater vehicle (or mahayana). What distinguishes this from the refuge of the common vehicle is the same attributes as previously mentioned but in reverse. In the case of the mahayana vow of refuge, the Buddha is not understood merely as the best of bipeds, but as the complete trikaya, the three bodies of buddhahood. And the duration of the vow is not simply the duration of this life, but until one achieves buddhahood. And the intention of the vow is not simply the achievement of one’s own liberation from samsara, but the achievement of perfect buddhahood, so that one may bring about the liberation and awakening of all other beings. These two varieties—the refuge vow of the common vehicle and the refuge vow of the mahayana—make up what is called the external vow of refuge.

The internal refuge is taking refuge in the three roots. These are the gurus who are the root of blessing; the yidams who are the roots of attainment; and the dakinis and dharmapalas who are the roots of activity. Essentially the inner vow of refuge is achieved through the realization of these three roots.

The third aspect of the refuge vow is the ultimate refuge. The ultimate refuge is the manifest trikaya—the manifest dharmakaya, sambhogakaya, and nirmanakaya. As a source of refuge this refers to your root guru who is recognized to be the embodiment of the three kayas (or three bodies) of perfect buddhahood. The way that this is actually practiced, that the inner and ultimate sources of refuge or vows of refuge are implemented in practice, is essentially that through the practice and achievement of the three roots—the gurus, yidams, and dakinis and dharmapalas—you achieve (or manifest) the trikaya yourself. That means that your mind and the mind of your root guru, who has already achieved the trikaya, are mixed inseparably. In that way, the vow of refuge has the outer aspect consisting of the common vehicle and the mahayana vows of refuge; the inner aspect, consisting of the vajrayana sources of refuge—the three roots; and the ultimate aspect, which is the achievement and manifestation of the trikaya in which your mind and the mind of your guru are inseparable.

The vow of refuge opens the door to all buddhadharma, but it is faith that opens the door to the vow of refuge. And by faith we mean three things: Awe or wonderment; desire or aspiration; and trust or belief. The need for this type of threefold faith is great. It is said, “Just as the seed that has been burnt in a fire cannot possibly grow into a sprout, a person without faith cannot possibly develop any virtue.” Especially if one is going to generate bodhichitta and practice the vajrayana, we need the vow of refuge that comes from the inspiration of threefold faith.

The first of the three aspects or types of faith is awe or wonderment, and awe refers to the feeling of inspiration we have when we see images of the Buddha, books of dharma that are receptacles of his speech, stupas—receptacles of his mind, temples, and so on. The feeling of inspiration we have when we see those things is awe or wonderment, the first aspect of faith. The second aspect of faith is desire or aspiration, and this means the desire to be protected by the three jewels, the aspiration to achieve nirvana. The faith of desire is [expressed], for example, when we say, “Please protect me from samsara and lower states.” And the third aspect, trust or belief, is the attitude, “I know that you are infallible and if I take refuge in you, you can protect me.” In that way, the starting point of taking refuge is developing the threefold faith of wonderment, aspiration, and belief.

In our practice, we depend upon our teachers or our masters. And we naturally choose teachers based upon their qualities. We choose teachers based upon their learning: who has the best ability to compose, to teach, and to debate. But if we rely upon the teacher for their learning and our reliance on such a teacher is genuine, then we ourselves must come to exhibit the fruit of having heard the Dharma.

Traditionally, it is said that the sign of having really heard the Dharma is to be tranquil and subdued or at peace. No matter how great our teachers may be, no matter how eloquent, how skillful, and how learned they may be, if we remain wild and untamed, then never mind practice, it means that we have not actually even heard the Dharma yet. We are like yak horns that are impenetrable. No matter how much oil you rub into them, it does not penetrate the substance of the horn. We may rely upon masters who are renowned as great yogis and teachers of meditation, but if we rely upon such masters, we must exhibit the signs of the practice of meditation.

In Buddhist tradition, the sign of having meditated is very simple—it is to have no kleshas. As we go on year after year, practicing meditation, relying upon or attending great gurus or great masters of meditation, if our kleshas increase as time goes on, then it is simply not working. So we need to be genuine on the inside. We need to actually be going through a process of training. Only through being genuine on the inside, can we become good examples of the sangha, good examples of what Buddadharma does to people. 

The Buddha said that his sangha would always be inspiring to all and a basis for the accumulation of merit by the affluent. When he said that his sangha would be inspiring to all, it means that anyone who is an authentic or genuine follower of the Buddha, should automatically—through the force of their internal training—be a source of inspiration to everyone who encounters them regardless of that person’s subjective predisposition. And when he said that we should be genuine causes of merit or basis of [accumulation of] merit for the affluent, it means that we should be people who are so genuine and so honest, that any form of patronage or donation to us is used well and is, therefore, a cause of genuine merit.

During the Buddha’s lifetime, he described the sangha as those who are never disturbing to the sight and always delightful to the eyes. To be authentic Buddhists, authentic members of the sangha, we need to be internally and externally, as a natural result of that, never discordant, never disturbing in the sight of others. We need to be a true delight to the eyes of other people. Speaking realistically, if we are old practitioners who are attempting to really do this, then we need to have at least a little bit of these qualities evident within us.

There is a traditional saying, “When amidst society, watch your mouth. And when alone, watch your mind.” We are either with others or we are by ourselves. When with others, for reasons that I need not state, we need to watch our mouths. But when alone, we need to watch our minds. And, after all, isn’t watching our mind the essence of meditation practice itself?

By watching your mind, what I mean is that we have to be honest with ourselves about what is really going on in our mind, about our state of mind. Is my mind pure or impure? Is my mind what I think it is or not? Like anything else, until you scrutinize your mind, you will be unaware of its attributes. Anything that is unexamined remains largely unknown to us. And although we are very, very good, clever, and strategic at scrutinizing everything other than our minds, we tend to avoid actually examining our own minds and the contents of our minds.

In his Crying to the Guru from Afar Jamgon Lodro Thaye wrote, “I conceal my own faults, even if they are as large as a mountain and I proclaim the faults of others, even if they are as tiny as sesame seeds.” It seems that we employ our innate capacity for clear and vivid insight in the obsessive concern with the faults of others. And we allow our innate capacity for utter stupidity to take over in how we deal with our own faults. We are completely ignorant of our own faults and completely obsessed with the faults of others.

The whole point of being a practitioner is to turn this habit upside down and inside out, to change it completely. We need to do the utter opposite of this. We need to turn all of our lucidity into an examination of our own state and let go of attempting to control or examine the state of others. Realistically speaking, we cannot control others and we cannot and should not expect others to be perfect or free of kleshas.

No matter what tradition we may practice, no matter whom our teachers may be, that starting point of being genuine Buddhists, genuine practitioners, is just this—whether or not we are willing to subject ourselves and our own faults to the scrutiny that we normally reserve for the faults of others. If we are willing to do this, there is no doubt, whatsoever, that our training will be successful.