[From a teaching on Life of Guru Rinpoche by Bardor Tulku Rinpoche given in Seattle, WA, in April 2009. Translated by Lama Yeshe Gyamtso, transcribed by Linda Lee, copy-edited by Basia Coulter. Copyright 2009 Karma Thegsum Choling Seattle, Bardor Tulku Rinpoche, and Peter O’Hearn. All rights reserved.]
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.
