"When I was growing up and studying Dharma, I was very lucky to also attend a Catholic convent school for half of each day and experience that form of education. The Catholic nuns were generous, kind, and very simple and direct: you should do this, you should not do that; and do it this way, not that way. Which was nice—because the other half-day was spent in the monastery, where nothing one said was right, particularly during my rebellious teen years when the khenpos were teaching us the madhyamaka texts.
Now, the basic logic of Buddhist philosophical examination is this: one does not state what truth is; one simply refutes whatever is stated to be true. This is the madhyamaka approach, which deals primarily with buddhanature, or absolute truth in Buddhist philosophy. Since absolute truth cannot be expressed by any concept, to state what it is would only be my perspective of absolute truth. So, similar to some Greek philosophies, the Buddhist philosophical approach cannot say what truth is; it can only say what truth is not.
For a thirteen- or fourteen-year-old, never getting a real answer is very frustrating. This isn’t right, that’s not right. It’s a fabrication, a mental concept, a thought—and yes, it’s empty in nature; no, it is not empty in nature. When you are told to meditate, you meditate as best as you can, trying not to get attached to thoughts. When asked what thoughts are, you say, “Well, they’re just mental concepts that seem to be empty in nature.” But that answer is still not correct. And so you go on. But no matter how you look at it or what answer you come up with, it’s not right. You are told you’re grasping, getting arrogant, and so on.
As the frustration grew, I went to His Holiness Mindrolling Trichen, my root teacher and father, and asked, “Why is Buddhism so complicated? It seems to be so unnecessarily complicated.” To which Rinpoche replied, “When the Buddha attained realization and enlightenment, he tried to expound on what he found to be true, but nobody seemed to understand.”
It is said that the Buddha didn’t teach for almost seven weeks after his enlightenment. Finally, he began teaching what is now known as the “origin of Buddhism.” He turned the Wheel of Dharma once, then twice—and later gave many different teachings referred to as the Third Turning of the Wheel of Dharma.
The simplicity of what the Buddha taught in the First and Second Turnings may seem almost ironic to our human intelligence. We are told there is suffering. There is a cause of suffering. And should we want suffering to cease, there is a path of practice that leads us from the causes of suffering to cessation. It is very simple—yet, thus began a very complex philosophy.
Growing up, I always blamed that first group of people who failed to understand what the Buddha discovered. If they had just been intelligent enough to comprehend the direct presentation of absolute truth, we would not now have to suffer all the analysis, meditation, methods, rituals, and highly complex philosophy that is Buddhism today...
As intelligent, thinking people, we all have something to complain about, don’t we? The government, the environment, the political and religious leaders—we express our concerns about every negative thing that occurs. And in this way, we do the very thing we’re complaining about: we constantly move away from the potential for good.
Therefore, if the situations facing the world today are violent and aggressive, we are all responsible; we are all contributing to it. If the environment is suffering, we are all contributing to it. If society is unstable and unfriendly, we are all contributing. Individually our contribution may not seem like a very destructive force, but from a Buddhist perspective what are we doing is irresponsible.
We speak of the preciousness of human existence and its potential for constructive productivity, yet few of us manage to put this into practice before we grow old. We spend decades of our lives wanting happiness, peace, and contentment—without sowing the causes for that aspiration. Why did we not plant the seeds of the fruition we aspire to? Buddhist logic says that if you plant a lemon seed and pray for a mango fruit, logically it won’t work. But this is what we do: we wish for happiness without planting the seeds of happiness.
In fact, we do the exact opposite. We plant the causes of carelessness, thoughtlessness, mindlessness, and a lack of awareness, conscientiousness, and consideration for others and their well being—all the time hoping for happiness and cessation of suffering. Call it karmic patterns, habitual tendencies, neuroses, or whatever—it is essential to understand this human behavior.
Then we will understand why the simple fact of buddhanature became so very complicated 2500 years ago. It became complicated because the Buddha had to transmit his experience of absolute truth through the many teachings we still need to hear today. It is humbling that we struggle with the same habitual tendencies that people struggled with then—leaving the Buddha no choice but to teach the subject in various complex ways...
All the different categories of Buddhadharma—hinayana, mahayana, and vajrayana, with its nine or eleven yanas—are the diverse teachings devised to address the diverse potentials of meditators. These potentials refer to individuals, not groups. For example, each individual within the hinayana, mahayana and vajrayana will have different capabilities, reflecting varying levels of doubt, hesitation, or certainty.
“Good potential” is said to arise from a high capacity for generating certainty; becoming more certain of the truth is reflected in greater potential. At this point, however, do not mix up doubt and hesitation with any criticism of your potential. This is not a criticism. We all have doubt and hesitation—which simply means not being certain.
How does one break through doubt and hesitation? Apply the skillful means of hearing, reflecting, contemplating, and meditating on the Dharma, then putting the Dharma into practice in your daily life. These are the means for working with doubt and hesitation. In this way you will come to understand the truth of what has been taught or meditated upon from your own experience—and certainty will become your own.
When certainty becomes your own, Buddhism is seen as just a method, or means, for realizing what is fundamentally and naturally your intrinsic nature...
Many years ago, when Jetsunla and I were reading about the great masters and their miraculous activities, we asked His Holiness, “Why don’t teachers perform miracles like they used to in the past? It would be inspiring for us to be able to say that our teacher performs miracles.”
Rinpoche laughed and said, “The greatest miracle I have done in my life is never having actually hurt anyone. And if you think that isn’t a miracle, then I don’t do miracles.”
In today’s world, a true miracle would be to simply be a good human being. If cultivated properly, Buddhism is a very important method for bringing us closer to that truth—not as we hope or would like it to be, but the truth as it is.
To realize the truth of who and what we are as human beings is to realize our buddhanature."
-- Her Eminence Mindrolling Jetsün Khandro Rinpoche
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