The Collected Works of Chögyam Trungpa: Volume Seven (86 page)

Other sections of a ritual or sadhana—invocation, offering, praise—have their own rhythms and melodies which are repeated throughout the section. These melodies were composed at various times by teachers of the spiritual lineage, arising out of their personal feelings or experiences of unity with particular deities. These then became traditional ways of chanting certain sections of sadhanas. Actually, there are only a very few traditional ways of chanting a given section of a sadhana within one sect or school of Tibetan Buddhism. When a new sadhana is written, a traditional offering chant is borrowed for the new offering section, a traditional invocation chant for the new invocation section and so on.

The deities or gurus visualized during the ceremonies are not regarded as external entities. Rather, they embody particular principles of energy or qualities of being. Peaceful and wrathful deities are aspects of the awakened state of mind; demons and evil spirits are neurotic tendencies and confused ways of dealing with the phenomenal world. When done properly and with the right attitude, the visualization of deities provides insight into the psychological processes which they personify—insight which has power to catalyze the psychological transformation which is the goal of the whole Buddhist path, the realization of one’s own basic sanity.

The practice of visualization is a part of various types of rites, including abhishekas or empowerments. In the visualization of the Karma Pakshi abhisheka, the participants visualize a mandala with Karma Pakshi at the center and various other figures surrounding him. Karma Pakshi, the second Karmapa, is a manifestation of the awakened state of mind which is already within us, as well as a representative of the lineage of teachers through whom the realization of that state of mind has been transmitted. By identifying with him, the student is included in the mandala, properly accepted into the family of the lineage. But this is not like being initiated into a tribe or accepted into a closed circle; rather the student is introduced by the teacher into the universe. The universe is not a big tribe or a big ego. It is just open space. The teacher empowers the student so that he can enter the enlarged universe. The excerpt heard on the album occurs when the visualization has been established. Playing the hand drum and bell (damaru and drilbu), His Holiness calls upon the practitioners to become part of the mandala and also calls upon the transcendental aspect of the mandala to enter into it. The hand drum and bell are tantric symbols representing the masculine and feminine energy principles. They are regarded as the most sacred instruments of all.

Except for the damaru and drilbu which were borrowed from the Indian tradition, the instruments used in Tibetan monastic music derive historically from the military band. In the time of the great-great-grandson of king Trisong Detsen
(khri srong lde btsan;
flourished eighth century), there was a battle in which many people were killed. The king, feeling repentant and wishing to tone down the arrogance of the army, gave the military bands to the monasteries as an offering, to be used solely for peaceful purposes. Thus the oboelike gyaling
(rgya ling)
was originally used to send messages, much like a Western bugle. Many of the instrumental patterns still in use derive from the military music.

Set patterns played by the instruments are associated with beginning and ending particular sections of chanting—for example, the invocation or offering sections. In sadhanas connected with wrathful deities such as mahakalas, the chanting is often accompanied by drum and cymbals. The long trumpet,
ragdungchen
(not heard on the recording), and the short trumpet,
kangling
, are also connected with wrathful deities; they generally are played along with the drums and cymbals. The gyaling is associated with peaceful deities and also with the idea of devotion. It plays written-out melodies not related directly to the rhythm of the other instruments which, nonetheless, may be playing at the same time.

Abhishekas empower the student to perform rites and sadhanas involving identification with particular gurus or deities. The second side of this record contains four excerpts from a three-and-one-half hour rite relating to the mahakala principle. This principle can only be evoked by those already empowered to do so. Mahakalas are protectors of the teachings who guard the practitioner from sidetracks and deceptions on the path to enlightenment.

The first excerpt consists of visualization of a mahakala, invocation of his transcendental aspect, and offering to him. The second excerpt begins with visualization of the six-armed mahakala, the wrathful manifestation of Avalokiteshvara. This mahakala is the protector particularly of the six-yoga teaching of Nigu and of the Geluk order. After the visualization, his mantra is repeated silently, followed by an offering to him. Mantra plays an important part in communicating with the power of a particular deity; it is a means of getting in touch with the basic qualities he embodies and identifying with them.

When people succumb to corruption, and monks and practitioners break their vows of practice, the mahakalis, female manifestations of the protector principle, become angered. They create warfare, famine, sickness, and chaos as reminders and warnings to return to the path. In the third excerpt, the mahakalis are beseeched to fulfill the first karma—the enlightened action of pacification, causing both physical and psychological imbalance to subside. Then the mantra of Pernagchen, the principal mahakala of this particular rite, is repeated. Pernagchen is the special protector of the Karma Kagyü lineage.

In the last excerpt, the spirits of the enemies of the teachings—evil energies, confusion, and obstacles on the path to enlightenment—are captured and brought into the torma, sculptured offerings made of barley flour and butter. They are then offered to the mahakala in fulfillment of the fourth karma, the enlightened action of destruction—the annihilation of confusion and obstacles. Having destroyed all enemies, the practitioners repeat a manta of Manjushri, the bodhisattva of transcendental knowledge, and clap their hands to invoke his protection from the rebounds of this wrathful action. They may now receive the siddhi or power of mahakala, the enriching quality of psychological wealth. The rite ends with wishes for good fortune accompanied by fanfare and celebration.

Basically, Tibetan liturgical music functions as part of the setting of a ritual rather than having an independent life of its own. The music does provide a lot of power, particularly in sections where wrathful deities are invoked or evil spirits are exorcised. It is not necessarily the sound as such which has a particular effect; rather, different kinds of rhythms and melodies are associated with certain states of mind—feelings of longing or devotion or power. For instance, in Western music, Wagnerian music is associated with a feeling of heroism and power while Haydn’s trumpet concerto suggests a different kind of mood altogether. In Tibetan monastic music, the deeper-sounding instruments are connected with grandiosity and power while the higher-pitched sounds are somewhat connected with the idea of devotion. The music does evoke these states of mind in people, but there is no independent magical power in the sounds themselves. An analogy can be made with paintings of mandalas. Staring at such a painting will not provide any profound psychological experience—the painting is just a map of a three-dimensional building which is supposed to be visualized. If one has not had proper training under a competent teacher and does not know the actual technical details of the specific mandala, there is no particular effect other than a sense of the exotic. In the same way, for Westerners who lack the training to understand the ritual, Tibetan liturgical music would tend to be just exotic sound. To be sure it gives us some feeling, but that is partly because of its foreignness. This could be compared to the experience of many Tibetans arriving in the West upon first hearing the sounds of automobiles. A car goes by, a huge bundle of energy with a deep roar and an occasional higher pitch when gears are shifted. In passing by, it carries a trail of wind—extraordinarily powerful. This experience is magical from a certain point of view—intense noise does create a state of mind. But due to the foreignness of it, the Tibetan has an impression of that sound which is very far from its actual psychological place in the Western context. In the same way, Westerners hearing the, for them, strange and powerful sounds of the Tibetan liturgy can develop interpretations of it which are remote from the intentions of its practitioners. The music of these rituals is not meant, by itself, to have great effects. It is merely an accompaniment to the general psychological process of the rite. It is the understanding of the rite, together with the skill in practicing it which comes of long psychological training, that forms the main thread of this process.

INTRODUCTION TO

Disciples of the Buddha

Robert Newman:
Many people in America have had striking experiences with these I-chou lohan
¹
statues but there’s limited understanding of what the statues are and how they were made.

Chögyam Trungpa:
I think we have to look at it very simply. These statues represent, according to the tradition, individuals who had left their homes, and before they left, there had been a lot of traumatic experiences of pain and suffering. They then established their relationship with their teacher, in this case the Buddha himself.

The sense of simplicity they experienced in monastic life after being ordained by the Buddha brought a sense of nonverbal experience. I think these statues are expressions of nonverbal experience that the artist had of the state of arhathood. The statues are powerful because they are filled with a state of experience.

These individuals had left their homes and established themselves in a monastic situation, which in the early days of Buddhism was just living in the jungle or meditating in a cave. They became healthier physically and psychologically. These particular beings represented had that sane living situation and also had the sanity of communication with the Buddha. We could say these images present the particular realization of Buddha’s sanity in his direct disciples.

Lohan Two from
Disciples of the Buddha: Living Images of Meditation
(Cool Grove Press)
.

COURTESY OF ROBERT NEWMAN

Robert Newman:
Would you say that these are images of vipashyana
²
meditation?

Chögyam Trungpa:
I think you could say that the expressions of the statues are very definite. The practice of meditation becomes a day-today life situation from the shamatha experience to the vipashyana experience. Therefore many of the postures we see the statues in are very casual ones.

The natural habit of meditation has already been built up and they feel a continuous vipashyana experience. They don’t have to pose for it. They have become used to just being that way. These images are actual portraits of how they handle themselves. They also illustrate the particularly Chinese tradition of reverence and respect for teachers. The flowing robes and powerful expressions are comparable to imperial portraits, like a king or monarch who doesn’t have to work to improve his subjects. He just handles himself very casually. I would say of the artist that he may have experienced some practice of meditation and some insight. But these images are done with a sense of awe and reverence, in a very sacred application. And so the images are very human and at the same time kind of superhuman.

Robert Newman:
I think the particularly human quality of the images is most striking to people. The human, lifelike qualities create a shock of confrontation in space, something like a mirror. So if the artist was experiencing awe, he was doing so in making extremely human images, faces very related to his own.

Chögyam Trungpa:
I think so. The artist has obviously experienced the living Buddhism that is always present, as well as certain teachers with Buddha-like qualities, so that the teachings are no myth, but a very real experience. The sense of awe and respect comes together with a sense of ineffableness, an enigmatic quality. The artist would have loved to have experienced that directly, but could only do it by making these portraits. Something is not available to him, but at the same time it is very available to him and almost frightening. A kind of balance takes place. And of course the whole thing is very cultural and hierarchical in approach.

In Indian Buddhism there is less of a hierarchical attitude. Becoming a Buddhist meant transcending the caste system. But when Buddhism entered China, the priest class became very powerful. Buddhism was invited to China by the emperor, the great scholars, and the great prime ministers. Traditionally, the abbots are the only people who can put their hands on the emperor’s head to bless him. That’s known as rajaguru, and such power is never questioned. Even if you question it, there is a sense of mystery. But traditionally that mystery is thrown back in the accomplishments of a person in his life, what he does. The artist achieved what he wanted to achieve.