The Collected Works of Chogyam Trungpa: Cutting through Spiritual Materialism; The Myth of Freedom; The Heart of the Buddha; Selected Writings [NOOK Book]

From
Cutting
Through

I
recently made

a
lecture tour in California and met quite a few people there. From these
encounters and others in the West, it seems that there is, on the whole, a
continual fascination with Eastern teachings. People are, in a sense, very
honest and generous; that is, they are open to the teachings, but they are also
compelled and provoked by them. Somehow confusion sets in because either they
are fascinated by the colorful exterior, robes, and rituals; or, being already
a part of Western society and having to keep some kind of link with it, they do
not know how to relate the teachings to their daily life. Their attempts to
make this link between their living in the Western world and the desire for
experience beyond reveals something lacking.

This
problem relates to a basic underlying pattern in the growth of spiritual
movements. It becomes more evident in looking back, for instance, at the
development and study of meditation and Buddhist thought in Great Britain and
Europe. At the beginning of the nineteenth century, there already was,
apparently, a basic dissatisfaction with the established teaching of
Christianity. Perhaps familiarity bred contempt, but it seems to have been more
than that. At the end of the century many people were involved with such
organizations as the Rosicrucians, the Golden Dawn, Aleister Crowley's O.T.O.
[Ordo Templi Orientis], and various others, seeking ways out of church doctrine
and into the "mysteriousness" which accompanies the teachings. The
results were often similar to those of Crowley, who attempted, after having
made a crude study of Buddhist thought, to bring it

together
with the roots of Western civilization. The focus became a mysticism in the
sense of the "mysteriousness" found in witchcraft and magic. The
organizations arising at this time generally came from the intelligentsia, or
people involved with intellect and richness of material comfort, who searched
for the patterns in this "mysteriousness," while others merely
continued through the established churches.

The
establishment of the Theosophical Society attracted many in search of a basic
pattern, something more than the ordinary worship of Jesus Christ as a savior.
They were looking for the power of mind that exists behind the dogma, but were
caught up in the confusion between power of mind and the egocentricity that all
these "magical" organizations developed.

Early
in the twentieth century this search coincided with certain material problems,
a coincidence which occurred in the East as well, for instance with Gandhi's
movement in India or in Sun Yat-sen's attempt to revolutionize China. But here
the conflict was in a spiritual, a more intellectual realm. The pattern of
searching for the "magic" behind dogma continues on and on. It does
not provide anything particularly meaningful nor fulfill the object of search.
After a while the whole thing is dropped, more or less, and another search begun.

The
study of Eastern thought as it has developed in America follows this same
pattern. The present availability of Tibetan and Buddhist teachings is mainly
due to the Pali Text Society and the work of India's Anagarika Dharmapala, who
delivered the message of the Buddha throughout the world. At the same time in
Tibet, the monk Gendun Chophel, an extraordinary and inspired person, rebelled
against the pattern of the church structure there; he made a pilgrimage to
India and then decided to study Pali in Ceylon. He became a Pali scholar and
tried to make some link between modern Western culture and the traditional
Tibetan pattern. He translated Pali texts into Tibetan and endeavored to
introduce Buddhist thinking that differed from the prevailing ideas. At the
same time, Anagarika Dharmapala was working to legalize pilgrimages to Buddhist
countries and to restore the inspirational monuments. This whole development
was partially Buddhist and partially global. The work of Theosophy in the West
was mirrored in the East, a tremendous movement to find new ways of adapting
the teachings, a new way of understanding. It is part of the pattern that goes
on continuously. And so it seems at this moment that there is this great
potential of a search for a new interior and exterior life. If we are
particularly searching for an exterior mode, then this pattern will develop as
an effort to transplant those religions we are interested in: Hinduism,
Buddhism (Zen, Theravadan, or whatever). These patterns may be imitated or
followed. Many people have tried to become Tibetan, but it is very clumsy.
Others have tried to become Japanese, which is equally as clumsy. Still others
have tried to become Burmese, Sinhalese, or Thai as well as Indian, and again
it is very clumsy. As we continue to search for images and forms, the pattern
continues to be the same. Try to remember our history.

People
are inspired by Egyptology; I'm sure many have been. We do not have the oral
teachings, but merely study it from the archaeological point of view. We have
been given a few clues and would like to follow them on and on. It's a process
of working back through the material. In this fascination with externals we
could end up back in the Stone Age. We could come to worship the sun and moon;
hunt, eat raw meat, and wear skins. It's a great trip. We could just try and be
with nature.

Many
feel this contact is lacking and often begin to experience a longing for it,
reading back into history with nostalgia. But since all this going back to the
Stone Age involves searching for more luxury, how are we going to place our
minds? It is luxury because people tire of central heating and automatic
equipment. Water boils and signals with a whistle, and you don't even have to
watch it. But it becomes a child's game to do all this manually and participate
in the excitement of watching it happen. But all this is luxury. There is no
difference in having this way of life as opposed to that one. It is quite the
same. We are searching for some kind of luxury. It seems to follow generally
that once we are leading a mechanized life, we feel something is missing.

What
is missing? I think we have lost the point. If we look at things with this
particular fascination for the exterior alone, we merely want to substitute one
thing for another. This is pure materialism. Psychological materialism has
gotten into the process in a highly complicated and sophisticated way, going so
far as leading the Stone Age life. One can sense possibilities, even in the
extreme cases, but they all miss the point. There will still be dropouts in
these Stone Age communities, reactionaries and all the rest. This is inevitable
as long as we search for comfort, or, more important, the romantic aspect of
things. We see this with people who have become completely Japanese or Tibetan.
They are completely trained in that way of life. One would live this kind of
life with the encouragement, of course, of the Tibetans and Japanese
("What a wonderful transformation they've made; at last they've managed to
become like us"). But, then, one would have problems whether one lived as
a Tibetan, Japanese, or Indian. So what happens next? Something is fishy;
something is lacking. Did we miss the boat somewhere? What is wrong? Having
involved myself in becoming completely Tibetan, I can't possibly go back to
Western ways; that would be embarrassing! But secretly I would contemplate
this, have private conversations with myself about it. "What is wrong? I
didn't get some kind of expected utopian civilization as I imagined I would.
There is something wrong behind it all." And then I would begin to
question my fascination for such a civilization, such a work of art! I used to
be able to sit and just gaze at the pure image of the Buddha or certain
patterns of the interior decoration. I could really live on and on, spend
twenty-four hours a day watching them, but what's gone wrong now? I just can't
do that anymore.

It
is really a matter of fascination. Nothing is wrong with the design or the
inspiration of the work of art, but something is wrong with the fascination. It
has gone too far. We haven't checked ourselves in the process of going into it.
We've let ourselves be sucked out. We involve ourselves too much. So the
situation develops that one has to look back. These philosophies and works of
art are beautiful as they are, but we don't have to just plunge into them. We
have to realize that we can't change ourselves completely this way. The main
thing is to develop a sense of humor on the journey and see the funny side of
our involvement. A sense of humor plays a great part in balancing things,
sometimes sarcastic, sometimes inspiring. But we certainly can't become
Tibetans, Japanese, or Indians, because the very desiring to become so contains
the preconceived idea of ambition. The way of life may be extremely attractive
to us, but being moved by the wisdom doesn't mean we have to accept the
exterior. This exterior is a very difficult thing. Its fascination plays a too
important part. If one wants to absorb the teaching, one has to work in a
different way.

Although
the symbols may contain a certain inspiration, one needn't go through the whole
external trip. And what is behind that external trip that seems so embarrassing
to look into? Each time there is a little attempt to look into ourselves, it is
an embarrassing situation, because it

involves
the complicated and unfamiliar action of dealing with our own mind. We try to
avoid this by involving ourselves more and more with externals. This seems to
be the problem, a neurotic pattern, the feeling of embarrassment or hesitation
that makes us get lost in outside details.

In
any case, one has to face the truth sooner or later. Facing the truth later
will be more shocking, more difficult. It will be more disappointing, because
you have gone as far as you can, to the point of eating and dressing and
behaving as they do, and still something is wrong. It will be very painful and
disappointing. So it seems necessary to have a good look before the fascination
takes over. The fascination takes us away from looking at ourselves. When there
are psychological problems involved, it doesn't work to merely sit and gaze at
a work of art and try to get some kind of kick out of it. Many people do just
that; all of us do, but it isn't valid. It's a substitution, an escape.

Whenever
we are shrouded in a mental depression, we talk to someone, or go to the
shrine, or read a book to try to ease the problem, which is a cowardly
hesitation. It may seem very easy at the moment, but we are going to get
addicted this way. And each time there is a further psychological problem or
depression, we are going to escape further and further and at last decide to
give up the whole responsibility of our family or business. Suddenly, one
completely flips out and decides to give up the whole thing and take the first
train or airplane to the nearest place and become a sannyasin or bhikshu or
whatever. This is the ultimate hypocrisy, one might say transcendental
hypocrisy. So something is wrong there, a hole that we really have to look
into. No, we are not supposed to abandon all these uneasy materialistic scenes
in Washington or New York, etc. We are supposed to work with it. The world is
not built purely for us, but is a mutual effort of ourselves and others. So we
have to develop some kind of compassion and openness of love for it.

I
know a person who completely abandoned his eight children, wife, home,
business, and everything; just completely left like that. After a final blow,
he took the first plane east to India. He became a sannyasin and resident of an
ashram. I think that is a very selfish act, regarding the world as if it were
only for you rather than for everybody. This is the extreme attitude of
self-deliverance. We need a great deal of compassion to share paths and
problems with others. In order to do this, of course, we have to become willing
to offer ourselves to the situation, not make a big scene of it. Not to demand
attention for ourselves. We have to learn to dance with the situation, to work
with it. This is very important, extremely important. We could be developed
spiritually and be working on ourselves continually. Suddenly we run out of
inspiration for further development. We don't make any demands or a big scene
out of it, which would be a very clumsy kind of skillfulness.