Commentaries have been sourced mainly from https://www.nalandatranslation.org with editing for the uninitiated.
Chanting in the morning and evening helps to provide a sense of twenty-four-hour practice. The events of the day and the night are sandwiched between periods of practice. In the morning, the chants provide the first spark of connection to the [practice] lineage, the teachings, and to our discipline. In the evening, they can provide a sense of summing up and recalling the entire day in the context of dharmic activity.
Chanting should be considered as a practice in itself. It is important to be present and mindful of what one is doing. We can cultivate awareness of the words we are chanting as well as an awareness of their meaning. Chanting is a proclamation of the teachings themselves. We are not mouthing meaningless words; we can have a sense of their meaning. In this way, hearing, contemplating, and meditating can occur. Therefore, it is worthwhile for students to learn the meaning of the chants.
The Proclamation of Goodness
This simple, four line supplication composed by Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche has a lot in it. There is one meaning on the level of ordinary thoughts and associations. Then, there is another level that words cannot directly express but can only point to. If we look beneath the surface to this hidden meaning, another dimension opens up.
As with many of the chants, if we read it on a surface level, we might find the wording puzzling, or even jarring. If one doesn’t have faith in the author, one might reject the whole chanting experience. Sometimes newcomers fall into this trap. However if some faith and patience exists, one might be stimulated to look for a hidden meaning. In doing so, one starts a virtuous process of contemplation.
The first line reads: May basic goodness dawn. Ordinarily, goodness is a concept, and concepts generally work by comparing and distinguishing one thing from another. For instance, we might say that goodness happens when we eat something tasty. We say “Oh, that was good!”, with the implied meaning that compared to other food, it wasn’t neutral or bad. So this first line might be saying something like “May my life be full of pleasure and nice things”.
Here, the word “basic” inserts a puzzling element and hints at a hidden meaning. At this level, the words point to, but cannot fully describe, what is being pointed at. The author, Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche, trusts that actual experiences of what is being pointed to have arisen at some time in our lives. Because of that, he can point us towards those experiences. We may not fully understand them, or be able to put them into words, but the word “basic” starts the process of questioning.
In this context, “basic” hints at something that is primordial: an experience that is uncontaminated by second thought or interpretation – just raw experience itself. Usually this happens in a moment of nowness. Thoughts of good or bad, pleasant or unpleasant haven’t yet arisen. It is pre-thought: a state that Buddhists describe as is-ness or that-ness. The word “pure” might be applied.
If this is “basic”, then what is “good” about? Generally speaking, when we are in direct contact with the world, it feels fresh and spacious. We are not thinking about something, we are experiencing it, now. We might feel open and even exposed, but we might also find a tender feeling towards what we are in touch with. It might be a small drop of water on a leaf, reflecting sunlight like an emerald. Or, it could be a pungent whiff of garbage that stops our mind with its sweet tang. If we don’t automatically dive into rejection, we might savor the moment. We might feel a sense of harmony, a sense of our place in the vastness of a universe that has a place for everything, including garbage. In spite of our habitual thoughts, the moment might feel poignant, full and complete in itself, but empty of our thoughts about it. We might feel alone, because we couldn’t describe it to others – that would be talking about it, not experiencing it.
“May the confidence of goodness be eternal”. Like “goodness”, “confidence” is another one of those concepts that usually reflect evaluation and comparison. Ordinarily, you would read the line above thinking of confidence as something you have because your circumstances are overwhelmingly supportive. Maybe you have lots of money, and powerful friends, or perhaps you just feel that luck is on your side.
So what is the hidden meaning here? Notice the phrasing “confidence of goodness”. It could have been phrased “confidence in goodness”, but it wasn’t. So here the words are pointing beyond themselves to confidence that exists by itself in the state of basic goodness. This kind of confidence doesn’t depend on an evaluation of one’s resources or relative strengths. It is complete within itself. It doesn’t lean on anything that could be taken away.
So what is this state of basic goodness that is inherently confident? Here, we are talking about basic wakeful awareness. Usually we think of awareness in terms of what we are aware of, not the state awareness itself. The chant is saying that just being, awake and aware, is basic and good in itself.
You may have met or heard of dying people who experience a kind of grace at the end of their lives. They achieve this by giving up clinging. Their grace is unconditional because whatever happens, they willing to be. Like those dying people, our awareness is our constant friend, because no matter what occurs, we have this good, wakeful awareness. So this is the confidence of basic goodness. It is opposed to confidence in some kind of goodness that is external to our state of being.
The word “eternal” is a jarring element in this line. How can confidence be eternal when everything is impermanent? If we look closely at the actual experience of basic goodness, it is always in the now. When one is in nowness, the past is a memory — just a kind of thought that comes up. The future hasn’t happened yet, so it is just imagination. If there is no past and no future, there is no time. So confidence can be eternal, beyond time, because it is always now. It is always there whenever you look for it in nowness.
May goodness be all victorious: Conventionally, we might think of good triumphing over bad, but that has an element of aggression. The hidden meaning here is that goodness underlies even what we interpret as bad. It is primordially present, so there is never any question of goodness needing to be victorious. It is victorious in own nature.
May that goodness bring profound, brilliant glory. Again, we have to acknowledge two levels. Conceptually, some of these words have complex associations for us. “Glory” might describe adulation by others following a victory in sports. Glory is also commonly associated with praise to God.
The hidden meaning has to do with the nature of reality. Mind has two aspects: the first is the awake, empty quality that provides the space experience in which all experience can occur. This is felt as a sense of spaciousness. Then there is the luminous, knowing, expressive, brilliant quality. This is what forms thoughts and images of the world in the space of our mind. Sometimes this ability is called the “clear light” nature. In the experience of nowness, we get just a hint of this nature. Our perceptions become fresh, vivid and powerful and maybe even glorious.
Supplication to the Shambhala Lineage
In this chant, Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche acknowledges the various sources of the Shambhala Lineage. Of the four principal lineages of Tibetan Buddhism—Geluk, Sakya, Kagyü, and Nyingma—the Shambhala Lineage is indebted especially to the practice lineages of Kagyü and Nyingma.
Primordial Rigden,
All-good Samantabhadra,
Great Vajradhara;
The first three lines address the dharmakaya origins of the Shambhala Lineage. The “primordial Rigden” (Tib. rigs ldan; “holder of the family”) is the symbolic source of the Shambhala Lineage. “Samantabhadra” is the dharmakaya buddha of the Nyingma lineage, just as Vajradhara is that of the Kagyü lineage. Samantabhadra symbolizes complete primordial purity and utter wakefulness.
Lotus-born Padmakara,
Wisdom Yeshe Tsogyal,
Prahevajra, Shri Simha,
Holders of the ancient Great Perfection;
The next four lines address founders of the Nyingma lineage. Prahevajra (also known as Garap Dorje) was the first human in the ati tradition. Shri Simha followed shortly after that. Yeshe Tsogyal was Padmasambhava’s Nepalese consort, who became a powerful teacher in her own right.
Tilo, Naro, Marpa, Mila,
Siddhi-accomplishing masters of mahamudra:
Please approach and grant your blessings.
This is a supplication to the first human holders of the Kagyü lineage, whose special practice is mahamudra.
Dawa Sangpo, the other dharmarajas, and the twenty-five Rigdens,
Who guide beings to the sacred land of Shambhala,
You are the sun and moon, the wish-fulfilling jewel.
Your brilliant mind is the ornament of the world.
Protect my vajra awareness.
Grant your blessings so that I may realize great bliss-wisdom.
King Dawa Sangpo is the first lineage holder of Shambhala. It is said that he requested the Buddha to give him teachings that he could practice without becoming a monk. The Buddha gave him teachings that could be practiced by lay people in the context of their usual societal obligations. It is said that, in the kingdom of Shambhala, it was easy to practice dharma and the society was vastly uplifted. The “twenty-five Rigdens” are the kings who followed Dawa Sangpo.
Gesar Norbu Dradül, you are the great activity lion.
All-victorious Sakyong, you reveal the treasure of basic goodness
And radiate the Great Eastern Sun.
Gesar is the quintessential warrior of Shambhala, fearless in the face of all psychological and physical obstacles. “Sakyong” (Tib. “earth protector”) is an enlightened ruler who joins the vast vision of heaven with the practicality of earth, thus creating a sacred human society. “Great Eastern Sun” represents the inherently awake quality of mind, ever dawning anew.
Ashe, the essence of life, fearlessly reveals confidence and compassion;
May all discover the power of this magic.
The drala lineage of Mukpo, you bring about the new golden age.
Grant your blessings so that I may liberate all beings.
The Ashe stroke is part of the calligraphy of A, the first syllable of the Tibetan alphabet. It is a symbol of wakefulness, bravery, and gentle openness in the human heart. “Drala lineage of Mukpo” refers to the Mukpo clan, Trungpa Rinpoche’s ancestral family lineage. It is called the “drala lineage” because it has the power to overcome confusion and setting-sun outlook.
Buddhas, bodhisattvas, warriors, masters of the three times,
You guide us along the path to liberation.
You awaken bodhichitta.
You teach us the great view of emptiness.
You reveal the joy of luminosity.
Transmitting awareness-wisdom,
You lead us to perfect enlightenment.
Grant your blessings so that I may realize my nature
As the profound brilliant Rigden.
In the concluding lines, we aspire to accomplish the completely awake, spacious state of the Rigden.
Seven-Line Supplication to Padmakara
These seven lines are said to have originated as a supplication given to the Buddhist scholars at Nalanda by the vajra dakinis as a means of inviting Padmakara to preside over the assembly and enable them to defeat the heretics present. Padmakara gave this supplication to King Trisong Detsen and his subjects upon coming to Tibet. He also hid this in many termas and so it was repeatedly discovered by many tertöns (“treasure discoverers”) in later centuries.
In the Nyingma tradition, this supplication is recited three times at the beginning of any practice. It is also very often used among Kagyüpas and Sakyapas. More information on the chant can be found in Tulku Thondup’s Commentary on the Seven Line Prayer to Guru Rinpoche (Mahasiddha Nyingmapa Center, 1979).
Padmakara (“Lotus Born”), also known as Guru Rinpoche or Padmasambhava, was the Indian master who helped to establish the Buddhist teachings in Tibet during the eighth century, founding the Nyingma (“ancient”) lineage. He overcame numerous obstacles and conquered the local Tibetan deities, binding them as guardians of the Buddhist teachings. Through his activity, the founding of Samye, Tibet’s first monastery, became possible.
The symbol at the end of each line shows that it is a line of terma, or discovered text, originally concealed by Padmakara himself for the benefit of future practitioners.
HUM: A seed syllable that invokes the mind of Padmakara. It represents the mind of all the buddhas.
Uddiyana: Birthplace of Padmasambhava; also regarded as the realm of the dakinis.
lotus flower: Padmasambhava is said to have been born from a lotus, a symbol of purity rising out of the mud of confusion.
siddhi: Yogic achievement, ordinary or supreme. Ordinary siddhis involve mastery over the phenomenal world; the supreme siddhi is enlightenment.
dakini: A wrathful or semiwrathful feminine deity, embodying the qualities of emptiness and prajna. Dakinis are tricky and playful, representing the fertile space out of which the play of samsara and nirvana arises.
GURU (Tib. lama): teacher or spiritual guide; the one to whom no one is superior.
PADMA: That is, Padmakara.
GURU-PADMA-SIDDHI HUM: The Sanskrit mantra means “[Grant me] the accom-plishment of Guru Padmakara HUM.
Heart Sutra
Sourced from https://tricycle.org/magazine/heart-sutra/
Commentary by Thich Nhat Hanh:
Perfect understanding is prajnaparamita. The word “wisdom” is usually used to translate prajna, but I think that wisdom is somehow not able to convey the meaning. Understanding is like water flowing in a stream. Wisdom and knowledge are solid and can block our understanding. In Buddhism, knowledge is regarded as an obstacle for understanding. If we take something to be the truth, we may cling to it so much that even if the truth comes and knocks at our door, we won’t want to let it in. We have to be able to transcend our previous knowledge the way we climb up a ladder. If we are on the fifth rung and think that we are very high, there is no hope for us to step up to the sixth. We must learn to transcend our own views. Understanding, like water, can flow, can penetrate. Views, knowledge, and even wisdom are solid, and can block the way of understanding.
Avalokita found the five skandhas empty. But, empty of what? The key word is empty. To be empty is to be empty of something.
If I am holding a cup of water and I ask you, “Is this cup empty?” you will say, “No, it is full of water.” But if I pour out the water and ask you again, you may say, “Yes, it is empty.” But, empty of what? Empty means empty of something. The cup cannot be empty of nothing. “Empty” doesn’t mean anything unless you know empty of what. My cup is empty of water, but it is not empty of air. To be empty is to be empty of something. This is quite a discovery. When Avalokita says that the five skandhas are equally empty, to help him be precise we must ask, “Mr. Avalokita, empty of what?”
The five skandhas, which may be translated into English as five heaps, or five aggregates, are the five elements that comprise a human being. These five elements flow like a river in every one of us. In fact, these are really five rivers flowing together in us: the river of form, which means our body, the river of feelings, the river of perceptions, the river of mental formations, and the river of consciousness. They are always flowing in us. So according to Avalokita, when he looked deeply into the nature of these five rivers, he suddenly saw that all five are empty. And if we ask, “Empty of what?” he has to answer. And this is what he said: “They are empty of a separate self.” That means none of these five rivers can exist by itself alone. Each of the five rivers has to be made by the other four. They have to co-exist; they have to inter-be with all the others.
Avalokita looked deeply into the five skandhas of form, feelings, perceptions, mental formations, and consciousness, and he discovered that none of them can be by itself alone. Each can only inter-be with all the others. So he tells us that form is empty. Form is empty of a separate self, but it is full
of everything in the cosmos. The same is true with feelings, perceptions, mental formations, and consciousness.
Perhaps because of both its profundity and its brevity, the Heart Sutra is the most familiar of all the original teachings of the Buddha. (The Sino-Japanese version comprises a mere 262 characters.) Recited daily by Buddhists in China, Korea, Vietnam, Japan, Tibet, Mongolia, Bhutan, Nepal, the Heart Sutra is now also recited by many Buddhists in North America. The Sino-Japanese and monosyllabic Korean versions lend themselves well to chanting, and there are now several English translations. The basic text of the Zen tradition, it must also be the only sutra to be found (in Japan) printed on a man’s tie.
According to Buddhist lore, the Heart Sutra was first preached on Vulture Peak, which lies near the ancient Indian city of Rajagraha, and is said to have been the Buddha’s favorite site.
In this sutra, the Buddha inspires one of his closest disciples, Sariputra, to request Avalokitesvara, the Bodhisattva of compassion, to instruct him in the practice of prajnaparamita, the perfection of wisdom. Avalokitesvara’s response contains one of the most celebrated of all Buddhist paradoxes—”form is emptiness; emptiness is form.” And the sutra ends with one of the most popular Buddhist mantras—gate gate paragate parasamgate bodhi svaha: gone, gone, gone beyond, gone completely beyond…(When chanted, gate has two short vowels with the accent on the first syllable.)
The tradition of composing commentary on the Heart Sutra goes back to at least the eighth century, and includes many of the great Buddhist philosophers and meditation masters. What follows here are versions of the sutra and excerpts from some contemporary commentaries addressed to Westerners.
English translations of Buddhist language are not standardized. Variations of, for example, “Avalokitesvara” or “sunyata” or “sutra” reflect differences between Pali and Sanskrit, as well as the national origins of the translators.—Ed.
THE SUTRA OF THE HEART OF TRANSCENDENT KNOWLEDGE
Thus have I heard. Once the Blessed One was dwelling in Rajagriha at Vulture Peak mountain, together with a great gathering of the sangha of monks and a great gathering of the sangha of bodhisattvas. At that time the Blessed One entered the samadhi that expresses the dharma called “profound illumination,” and at the same time noble Avalokiteshvara, the bodhisattva mahasattva, while practicing the profound prajnaparamita, saw in this way: he saw the five skandhas to be empty of nature.
Then, through the power of the Buddha, venerable Shariputra said to noble Avalokiteshvara, the bodhisattva mahasattva, “How should a son or daughter of noble family train, who wishes to practice the profound prajnaparamita?”
Addressed in this way, noble Avalokiteshvara, the bodhisattva mahasattva, said to venerable Shariputra, “O Shariputra, a son or daughter of noble family who wishes to practice the profound prajnaparamita should see in this way: seeing the five skandhas to be empty of nature. Form is emptiness; emptiness also is form. Emptiness is no other than form; form is no other than emptiness. In the same way, feeling, perception, formation, and consciousness are emptiness. Thus, Shariputra, all dharmas are emptiness. There are no characteristics. There is no birth and no cessation. There is no impurity and no purity. There is no decrease and no increase. Therefore, Shariputra, in emptiness, there is no form, no feeling, no perception, no formation, no consciousness; no eye, no ear, no nose, no tongue, no body, no mind; no appearance, no sound, no smell, no taste, no touch, no dharmas; no eye dhatu up to no mind dhatu, no dhatu of dharmas, no mind consciousness dhatu; no ignorance, no end of ignorance up to no old age and death, no end of old age and death; no suffering, no origin of suffering, no cessation of suffering, no path, no wisdom, no attainment, and no nonattainment. Therefore, Shariputra, since the bodhisattvas have no attainment, they abide by means of prajnaparamita. Since there is no obscuration of mind, there is no fear. They transcend falsity and attain complete nirvana. All the buddhas of the three times, by means of prajnaparamita, fully awaken to unsurpassable, true, complete enlightenment. Therefore, the great mantra of prajnaparamita, the mantra of great insight, the unsurpassed mantra, the unequaled mantra, the mantra that calms all suffering, should be known as truth, since there is no deception. The prajnaparamita mantra is said in this way:
OM GATE GATE PARA GATE PARASAMGATE BODHI SVAHA
Thus, Shariputra, the bodhisattva mahasattva should train in the profound prajnaparamita.” Then the Blessed One arose from that samadhi and praised noble Avalokiteshvara, the bodhisattva mahasattva, saying, “Good, good, O son of noble family; thus it is, O son of noble family, thus it is. One should practice the profound prajnaparamita just as you have taught and all the tathagatas will rejoice.” When the Blessed One had said this, venerable Shariputra and noble Avalokiteshvara, the bodhisattva mahasattva, that whole assembly and the world with its gods, humans, asuras, and gandharvas rejoiced and praised the words of the Blessed One.
The Nalanda Translation Committee, under the direction of Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche, translated this version of the Heart Sutra from Tibetan. Reprinted with the permission of the Nalanda Translation Committee, Halifax, N.S. Copywrite 1978 Chogyam Trungpa.
Perhaps because of both its profundity and its brevity, the Heart Sutra is the most familiar of all the original teachings of the Buddha. (The Sino-Japanese version comprises a mere 262 characters.) Recited daily by Buddhists in China, Korea, Vietnam, Japan, Tibet, Mongolia, Bhutan, Nepal, the Heart Sutra is now also recited by many Buddhists in North America. The Sino-Japanese and monosyllabic Korean versions lend themselves well to chanting, and there are now several English translations. The basic text of the Zen tradition, it must also be the only sutra to be found (in Japan) printed on a man’s tie.
According to Buddhist lore, the Heart Sutra was first preached on Vulture Peak, which lies near the ancient Indian city of Rajagraha, and is said to have been the Buddha’s favorite site.
In this sutra, the Buddha inspires one of his closest disciples, Sariputra, to request Avalokitesvara, the Bodhisattva of compassion, to instruct him in the practice of prajnaparamita, the perfection of wisdom. Avalokitesvara’s response contains one of the most celebrated of all Buddhist paradoxes—”form is emptiness; emptiness is form.” And the sutra ends with one of the most popular Buddhist mantras—gate gate paragate parasamgate bodhi svaha: gone, gone, gone beyond, gone completely beyond…(When chanted, gate has two short vowels with the accent on the first syllable.)
The tradition of composing commentary on the Heart Sutra goes back to at least the eighth century, and includes many of the great Buddhist philosophers and meditation masters. What follows here are versions of the sutra and excerpts from some contemporary commentaries addressed to Westerners.
English translations of Buddhist language are not standardized. Variations of, for example, “Avalokitesvara” or “sunyata” or “sutra” reflect differences between Pali and Sanskrit, as well as the national origins of the translators.—Ed.
Commentary by Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche:
Cutting through our conceptualized versions of the world with the sword of prajna, we discover shunyata—nothingness, emptiness, voidness, the absence of duality and conceptualization. The best known of the Buddha’s teachings on this subject are presented in the Prajnaparamita-hridaya, also called the Heart Sutra; but interestingly in this sutra the Buddha hardly speaks a word at all. At the end of the discourse he merely says, “Well said, well said,” and smiles. He created a situation in which the teaching of shunyata was set forth by others, rather than himself being the actual spokesman. He did not impose his communication but created the situation in which teaching could occur, in which his disciples were inspired to discover and experience shunyata. There are twelve styles of presenting the dharma and this is one of them.
This sutra tells of Avalokiteshvara, the bodhisattva who represents compassion and skillful means, and Shariputra, the great arhat who represents prajna, knowledge. There are certain differences between the Tibetan and Japanese translations and the Sanskrit original, but all versions make the point that Avalokiteshvara was compelled to awaken to shunyata by the overwhelming force of prajna. Then Avalokiteshvara spoke with Shariputra, who represents the scientific-minded person or precise knowledge. The teachings of the Buddha were put under Shariputra’s microscope, which is to say that these teachings were not accepted on blind faith but were examined, practiced, tried and proved.
Avalokiteshvara said: “Oh Shariputra, form is emptiness, emptiness is form; form is no other than emptiness, emptiness is no other than form.” We need not go into the details of their discourse, but we can examine this statement about form and emptiness, which is the main point of the sutra. And so we should be very clear and precise about the meaning of the term “form.”
Form is that which is before we project our concepts onto it. It is the original state of “what is here,” the colorful, vivid, impressive, dramatic, aesthetic qualities that exist in every situation. Form could be a maple leaf falling from a tree and landing on a mountain river; it could be full moonlight, a gutter in the street or a garbage pile. These things are “what is,” and they are all in one sense the same: they are all forms, they are all objects, they are just what is. Evaluations regarding them are only created later in our minds. If we really look at these things as they are, they are just forms.
So form is empty. But empty of what? Form is empty of our preconceptions, empty of our judgments. If we do not evaluate and categorize the maple leaf falling and landing on the stream as opposed to the garbage heap in New York, then they are there, what is. They are empty of preconception. They are precisely what they are, of course! Garbage is garbage, a maple leaf is a maple leaf, “what is” is “what is.” Form is empty if we see it in the absence of our own personal interpretations of it.
But emptiness is also form. That is a very outrageous remark. We thought we had managed to sort everything out, we thought we had managed to see that everything is the “same” if we take out our preconceptions. That made a beautiful picture: everything bad and everything good that we see are both good. Fine. Very smooth. But the next point is that emptiness is also form, so we have to re-examine. The emptiness of the maple leaf is also form; it is not really empty. The emptiness of the garbage heap is also form. To try to see these things as empty is also to clothe them in concept. Form comes back. It was too easy, taking away all concept, to conclude that everything simply is what is. That could be an escape, another way of comforting ourselves. We have to actually feel things as they are, the qualities of the garbage heapness and the qualities of the maple leafness, the isness of things. We have to feel them properly, not just trying to put a veil of emptiness over them. That does not help at all. We have to see the “isness” of what is there, the raw and rugged qualities of things precisely as they are. This is a very accurate way of seeing the world. So first we wipe away all our heavy preconceptions, and then we even wipe away the subtleties of such words as “empty,” leaving us nowhere, completely with what is.
Finally we come to the conclusion that form is just form and emptiness is just emptiness, which has been described in the sutra as seeing that form is no other than emptiness, emptiness is no other than form; they are indivisible. We see that looking for beauty or philosophical meaning to life is merely a way of justifying ourselves, saying that things are not so bad as we think. Things are as bad as we think! Form is form, emptiness is emptiness, things are just what they are and we do not have to try to see them in the light of some sort of profundity. Finally we come down to earth, we see things as they are. This does not mean having an inspired mystical vision with archangels, cherubs and sweet music playing. But things are seen as they are, in their own qualities. So shunyata in this case is the complete absence of concepts or filters of any kind, the absence even of the “form is empty” and the “emptiness is form.”
Excerpted from Cutting Through Spiritual Materialism and reprinted with permission from Shambhala Publications, Inc.
Commentary by Shunryu Suzuki Roshi:
In the Prajna Paramita Sutra the most important point, of course, is the idea of emptiness. Before we understand the idea of emptiness, everything seems to exist substantially. But after we realize the emptiness of things, everything becomes real—not substantial. When we realize that everything we see is a part of emptiness, we can have no attachment to any existence; we realize that everything is just a tentative form and color. Thus we realize the true meaning of each tentative existence. When we first hear that everything is a tentative existence, most of us are disappointed; but this disappointment comes from a wrong view of man and nature. It is because our way of observing things is deeply rooted in our self-centered ideas that we are disappointed when we find everything has only a tentative existence. But when we actually realize this truth, we will have no suffering.
This sutra says, “Bodhisattva Avalokitesvara observes that everything is emptiness, thus he forsakes all suffering.” It was not after he realized this truth that he overcame suffering—to realize this fact is itself to be relieved from suffering. So realization of the truth is salvation itself. We say, “to realize,” but the realization of the truth is always near at hand. It is not after we practice zazen that we realize the truth; even before we practice zazen, realization is there. It is not after we understand the truth that we attain enlightenment. To realize the truth is to live—to exist here and now. So it is not a matter of understanding or of practice. It is an ultimate fact. In this sutra Buddha is referring to the ultimate fact that we always face moment after moment. This point is very important. This is Bodhidharma’s zazen. Even before we practice it, enlightenment is there. But usually we understand the practice of zazen and enlightenment as two different things: here is practice, like a pair of glasses, and when we use the practice, like putting the glasses on, we see enlightenment. This is the wrong understanding. The glasses themselves are enlightenment, and to put them on is also enlightenment. So whatever you do, or even though you do not do anything, enlightenment is there, always. This is Bodhidharma’s understanding of enlightenment.
Excerpted from Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind and reprinted with permission from Weatherhill Press.
THREE COMMENTARIES ON THE GREAT MANTRA
Set forth this mantra and proclaim:
Gate Gate Paragate Parasamgate Bodhi Svaha!
By Mu Soeng Sunim:
Gate gate means gone, gone; paragate means gone over; parasamgate means gone beyond (to the other shore of suffering or the bondage of samsara); bodhi means the Awakened Mind; svaha is the Sanskrit word for homage or proclamation. So, the mantra means “Homage to the Awakened Mind which has gone over to the other shore (of suffering).”
Whatever perspective one may take on the inclusion of the mantra at the end of the sutra, it does not put a blemish on what the sutra has tried to convey earlier: the richness of intuitive wisdom coming out of the pure experience of complete stillness, of complete cessation, away from all concepts and categories.
Zen masters, in echoing the theme of emptiness, like to agree with existentialist thinkers that “life” has no meaning or reason. The Heart Sutra uses the methodology of negation as a way of pointing to this lack of any inherent meaning or reason in the phenomenal world, including the world of the mind. It takes each of the existents, holds it up under an unflinching gaze and declares it to have no sustaining self-nature. This is the wisdom teaching of sunyata of the Mahayana tradition. But, at the same time, compassion is the other and equally important teaching of Mahayana. How do we then bridge the gap between sunyata as ultimate reality and the conventionality of human existance? The existentialist thinkers agonized over this problem and were led to despair and anarchy. In Mahayana, compassion, which is a natural, unenforced by-product of a deep state of meditation, supports the wisdom of emptiness, yet allows the individual to have empathy with the conventional appearance of the world without getting lost in it. It may be that compassion works best as a post-enlightenment existential crisis, but nonetheless without compassion as a guiding paradigm, the unrelenting precision of sunyata can make life bearable.
Excerpted from Heart Sutra: Ancient Wisdom in the Light of Quantum Reality and reprinted with permission from Primary Point Press.
By Trungpa Rinpoche:
The Heart Sutra ends with “the great spell” or mantra. It says in the Tibetan version: “Therefore the mantra of transcendent knowledge, the mantra of deep insight, the unsurpassed mantra, the unequalled mantra, the mantra which calms all suffering, should be known as truth, for there is no deception.” The potency of this mantra comes not from some imagined mystical or magical power of the words but from their meaning. It is interesting that after discussing shunyata—form is empty, emptiness is form, form is no other than emptiness, emptiness is identical with form and so on—the sutra goes on to discuss mantra. At the beginning it speaks in terms of the meditative state, and finally it speaks of mantra or words. This is because in the beginning we must develop a confidence in our understanding, clearing out all preconceptions; nihilism, eternalism, all beliefs have to be cut through, transcended. And when a person is completely exposed, fully unclothed, fully unmasked, completely naked, completely opened—at that very moment he sees the power of the word. When the basic, absolute, ultimate hypocrisy has been unmasked, then one really begins to see the jewel shining in its brightness: the energetic, living quality of openness, the living quality of surrender, the living quality of renunciation.
Excerpted from Cutting Through Spiritual Materialism and reprinted with permission from Shambhala Publications.
By Taizan Maezumi Roshi:
If you read the Hannya Shingyo (Heart Sutra) carefully, there is quite a thorough explanation of the direction to follow. Furthermore, every morning we chant “Gate Gate Paragate Parasamgate Bodhisvaha.” That’s another direction. Not only just make yourself go in a nice direction—whatever, wherever you want to go. But parasangha—“with the Sangha,” with everybody—go that way. Go to the other shore. Paramita. Realize, reach the other shore. Realize that paradise or heavenly dwelling, or happy, peaceful dwelling; whatever it is. See that dwelling place in which we live together. That’s the direction to go. And what’s the paradise? Where is it? Needless to say, right beneath your feet.
Homage and Invocation
Both the Homage and the Invocation are based on the opening section of the terma (Tib. “treasure”) text, The Golden Sun of the Great East, which was received by the Dorje Dradül of Mukpo in October of 1976. The Homage and Invocation are identical except for the last line of each stanza.
THE RIGDEN KING
He who has neither beginning or end,
Who possesses the glory of Tiger Lion Garuda Dragon,
Who possesses the confidence beyond words:
I pay homage at the feet of the Rigden King.
(Invocation: May the goodness of the Rigden King be present.)
This first stanza is in the form of a verse typically found in Buddhist tantric literature, paying homage to a particular deity. In this case, the homage is to the Rigden King. Rigden is a Tibetan term meaning, “endowed with the family,” which refers to the indestructible family to which all Shambhala students belong. The Rigden principle of primordial warriorship represents the wisdom contained in the open and relaxed mind before thought. In the later levels of Shambhala Training, the student warrior is taught to invoke the Rigden principle through practices that open the heart on the spot and bring about a sense of majesty and insight. In this context, the notion of “king” is the reigning principle of unbiased meditative awareness, which is like the sky. It is important to note that this is not a description of a remote and therefore somewhat meaningless reality. The Rigden King is met over time, through practice, when one dares to directly engage in the penetrating, precise and at times claustrophobic textures we encounter every day—complex situations, emotions, and relationships. It is here that one discovers the confident and loving dignity of one’s natural mind.
The following is an excerpt from a public talk given by the Dorje Dradül on March 12, 1978 in Boulder, Colorado. It was printed, as you see it below, in the “Karma Dzong Community Newsletter,” July/August, 1978.
When one enters the Shambhala world there are certain things one deals with— identification with the Rigden fathers, the Rigden aspects, and a relationship with that. The way one identifies with the Rigdens is by actually becoming a warrior oneself. Not copying the Rigdens, not mimicking them, but actually those qualities become the warrior, and the warrior becomes those qualities. The warrior takes on the same qualities as the Rigdens. So there is total identification. There is a parallel in Buddhism —our Buddhist practice is total identification with Buddha, or awakening; Shambhala practice is total identification with the Rigdens, or earthholders. Even in the Buddhist tradition, when Shakyamuni became the Buddha, he was known as the world-renowned one, the ruler of the earth.
So Rigden and Buddha are the secular and spiritual side of awakenment. And the path of the Rigdens and Buddha’s path are parallel paths. They go hand in hand but have their own particular practices, their own particular philosophy, with one thing in common. Do you want to guess what the one thing in common is? Shamatha-vipashyana practice. We talked yesterday about the fact that neither the Shambhala world nor the Buddhist world had any copyright on awakening, but I am going to make a rather outrageous statement: There is no awakening without shamatha-vipashyana as a basic, underlying quality. The link to awakening and the method, the path to awakening, is always associated with shamatha-vipashyana.
THE ANCESTRAL SOVEREIGNS
They who possess great wisdom, brilliant and profound,
Who are ever just and benevolent to their subjects,
Who subjugate their enemies and are supremely powerful—
By the golden yoke of their imperial rule
They ward off döns of plague, famine, and war—
Gesar Norbu Dradül, Ashoka Maharaja,
Emperors of Japan, China, and so on:
I pay homage to the ancestral sovereigns.
(Invocation: May the goodness of the ancestral sovereigns be present.)
This stanza speaks of the “ancestral sovereigns,” a specific reference to four historical figures who were revealed to the Dorje Dradül through his Shambhala terma: King Gesar of Tibet, Ashoka Maharaja of India, Prince Shotoku of Japan, and Emperor Yung-lo of China. They are invoked here as brilliant leaders of humanity. The Werma Sadhana Manual contains considerable information about them. The following provides a brief snapshot of each of their lives.
Generally speaking, it would seem that Dharmaraja Ashoka, Prince Shotoku, Emperor Yung-lo, and King Gesar were able to overcome much of the social depression of their times and to accomplish a great degree of cultural revitalization—in short, to enlighten their societies. Although they were born within various cultural norms, they had the courage and vision to go beyond these norms. Their initiatives, generally speaking, were ordinary in nature but extraordinary for their time, providing basic care for the elderly, easing the voyages of travelers, relieving the suffering of animals, increasing accessibility of medicines, and bringing about reforms in education. Under each of their influence, Buddhism was elevated and established, and its ideals of benevolence and harmony incorporated into the culture.
Gesar Norbu Dradül
Gesar Mukpo of Tibet is said to have lived around the eleventh to twelfth centuries. He is seen as a restorative figure in a time of social upheaval—a time when people’s minds had become “hard as rock and stone.” Most of our knowledge of Gesar comes from stories passed down from generation to generation through an oral tradition called the Epic of Gesar of Ling. Gesar’s monumental task was to overcome the influence of four kings who, through their perverted aspirations, had spread harm to people and caused the destruction of the buddhadharma. In our current Shambhala teachings, these four kings have come to represent the “enemies of the four directions,” or forces of materialism, which we are taught to directly engage and transform through our dignity and awakened heart. The stories of Gesar, his Aunt Manene, and others put the teachings of lungta, drala, auspicious coincidence, authentic presence, and so on into a living historical context.
Ashoka Maharaja
The Indian King Ashoka lived in the third century B.C.E. Known as one of the greatest emperors of India, Ashoka is famous for his dramatic life change upon hearing of the horrors caused by his conquest of Orissa. He experienced extreme anguish and remorse and embarked upon a journey of personal transformation and awakening. He converted from Brahmanism to Buddhism and vowed to rule his people according to the principles of compassion and nonviolence from that day forward. His activities were pragmatic and effective: he gave up the royal sport of hunting, prohibited the slaughter of animals for the royal kitchen, built hospitals for both animals and people, constructed rest houses and dugwells for travelers, and had roadside trees planted for shade. He is perhaps most widely known for broadcasting teachings of personal and social well being. These became known as the “Edicts of Ashoka,” which were engraved on large stone pillars and rocks throughout India. Ashoka convened the famous “Third Council” (ca. 250 B.C.E.) after the death of the Buddha in Pataliputra to settle certain doctrinal controversies. He also expanded Buddhism eastward to large areas of Southeast Asia, including Burma, Thailand, and Indonesia.
Prince Shotoku Taishi
Prince Shotoku Taishi of Japan was born in 574 C.E. Seven hundred years after Ashoka, Prince Shotoku was instrumental in the transformation of Japanese culture. Although only the Regent to his Aunt, Empress Suiko, he exerted enormous influence, and is known today as the “George Washington” of Japan. Among his many accomplishments:
He encouraged the addition of merit as a qualification beyond that of heredity as a requirement for holding public office.
He issued the Constitution of seventeen articles setting down Confucian principles of government and ethics, and introduced the Chinese calendar and Chinese aesthetic values to Japan.
He was an influential royal patron of the arts. Under his direction, Chinese and Korean craft-workers were invited to Japan to build, paint and sculpt.
Under his patronage, Buddhism became firmly established in Japan.
He prohibited the killing of all animals; however, after much pressure, he conceded to allowing the slaughtering of fish, maintaining strict protection of all four legged creatures.
Emperor Yung-Lo
Emperor Yung-Lo of China was born in 1360 C.E. As the third emperor of the Ming dynasty, Yung-Lo, is known for his sense of overwhelming power, political acumen. and expansive societal vision. He accomplished enormous projects. In the area of education, he had a body of scientific, cultural, and religious knowledge gathered, printed, and preserved in an eleven-thousand volume encyclopedia, which was published within the first few years of his reign. He oversaw the moving of the capital and the building of the Forbidden City in Beijing, and was dedicated to the flourishing of the arts— painting, art theory, drama and porcelain were at an all-time high in this dynasty. He promoted the principles of nonaggression and devotion, which he had learned through his teacher, the fifth Karmapa, Teshin Shekpa, whom he placed above and before himself—a most unusual approach for an emperor of his time. It was Yung-Lo who saw a vision of a black hat or crown upon the head of Teshin Shekpa, and physically replicated it. This is the hat that has been worn subsequently by the lineage of Karmapas to bestow the famed “Black Crown Ceremony.”
THE MUKPO CLAN
The ones who are nobly born as Mukpo clan,
Who defeat the eclipse of the Great Eastern Sun
And sharpen the blade of primordial Ashe:
The are victorious over all their enemies, the forces of materialism.
They see the Tiger Lion Garuda Dragon vision.
They are fearless in the midst of barbarian arrogance.
They tame the untamable beings.
They inspire the savages of the setting sun
Into the sophistication of the Great Eastern Sun:
I pay homage to [all] Sakyongs and the Sakyong Wangmos.
(Invocation: May the goodness of [all] Sakyongs and the Sakyong Wangmos be present.)
At a Shambhala Center, we take part in two streams or lineages, each with their own deep history. As we recite the morning and evening chants, we are invoking the blessings and wisdom of both of these lineages—once described by the Dorje Dradül as being “in league” with one another. One consists of the religious or spiritual traditions of Tibetan Buddhism, specifically the Nyingma and Kagyu lineages. The other is the secular and sacred Shambhala lineage. The Shambhala tradition has been passed down through a family lineage of warriors, the Mukpo clan—one of six main tribes of Tibet. (The “u” in “Mukpo” is pronounced as in the word “book.”) The great warrior Gesar was the progenitor of the Mukpo family, and the vanguard of our Shambhala world.
Mukpo is a Tibetan word which literally means “dark,” “black.” As the story goes, it was a term used to describe a warrior who came from India to Tibet—he never spoke Tibetan, he just arrived. Because of his dark skin, the Tibetans called him by the honorific term “Mukpo,” meaning “dark complexion.” The Dorje Dradül would affectionately refer to the Mukpo name as being connected with earth—that heaven and earth are joined on earth. He spoke of the need to ground ourselves constantly on the earth, in the dark soil of the Mukpo style rather than just dream the dreams that float in our imaginations alone.
Both the Dorje Dradül and the Sakyong are better known by their Buddhist titles: Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche and Mipham Rinpoche. However, they are also proud inheritors of the family lineage of Mukpo warriors, and therefore retain the Mukpo name. In this way, they are holders of both lineages—as are their Shambhala Buddhist students.
The last line of the stanza refers to the Sakyongs and Sakyong Wangmos, past and present: the Druk Sakyong Dorje Dradül of Mukpo, and the current Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche; and the Druk Sakyong Wangmo Lady Diana Mukpo, and the current Sakyong Wangmo Khandro Tseyang. “Sakyong” is the Tibetan word for “Earth Protector.” The Sakyong has been empowered to protect this world through the fusion of sacredness with the very real often gritty realities of our personal and communal lives. A “Sakyong Wangmo” (“Lady Earth Protector”) embodies the principles of harvesting peace, fostering communication and culture. She binds a society together with the yielding quality of her tears and gentleness, along with unflinching toughness and ability to speak the truth. The education of a Sakyong or Sakyong Wangmo is exceedingly complete. Either a Sakyong or Sakyong Wangmo can manifest as the ruler of a society if he or she is raised in this capacity from an early age.
THE GREAT EASTERN SUN
Radiating confidence, peaceful,
Illuminating the way of discipline,
Eternal ruler of the three worlds:
May the Great Eastern Sun be victorious.
(Invocation: May the goodness of the Great Eastern Sun be present.)
The Great Eastern Sun is the unsetting awareness, which arises as the power and dignity of human beings. Such lucid and direct awareness is magical-it is what opens the treasury of phenomena, the golden quality of phenomena. At the same time it is the experience of waking up from personal confusion and darkness to a connection with our own courage. Sometimes referred to as the genuine sun that rises in one’s heart, the Great Eastern Sun’s radiance is perceived through the senses as the luminosity of the world—the worlds of heaven, earth and man—above, below and in-between. Such light is not ordinary light, but is the innate brilliance of mind that shows one how to proceed and how to care for others. Sometimes referred to as the feminine aspect of warriorship, the Great Eastern Sun illuminates the deep, subtle and fluid energies of reality, bringing unshakable confidence and doubtless precision to the warrior’s mind.
Dedication of Merit
By this merit: In the mahayana, one dedicates the merit of one’s practice and understanding for the enlightenment of all sentient beings. In this way whatever merit has been gathered will never dissipate, as it is not just for the benefit of oneself, but for all beings everywhere.
By the confidence: This Shambhala dedication is always recited after the Buddhist dedication of merit. At a Shambhala program often only this dedication is chanted.
