Anne Klein's Articles on Lions Roar

Anne Klein on the foundational practices of Dzogchen, through which we can meet the dharma with our entire being and dissolve conceptual mind into the “great expanse” that is liberation. Is there a paradox at work in the dharma? We enter practice because we want something—peace, liberation, openhearted presence. We learn that in order to get these we must do certain things. So we make effort. But we cannot really accomplish what we wish through effort. Effort can even be an obstacle. We want the most profound, most penetrating, most efficacious practices, and we want them so much and in such habitual ways that we don't always recognize what they are when we have them. Moreover, we tend to want them with our heads, or out of our emotional distress. Certain kinds of wanting prevent our opening to something more profound than ordinary wanting, to the kind of deep longing that makes us truly receptive. Although this tension is natural, even inevitable, our most vibrant contact with the teachings does not occur through effort or narrow wanting. It comes when we meet the teachings in our body and being with an open heart-mind. We can't actually do anything about this tricky setup. We can, however, sit with it and gradually allow a shift to take place. This shift is not simply a change of ideas but a shift in our being. And practice is crucial for setting this shift in motion, even if practice itself cannot make it happen. One can look more closely at this interesting matter through noting how Dzogchen (“Great Completeness” or “Great Perfection”) traditions work with this conundrum. Dzogchen equates any type of thinking, or even the presence of a thought-image, with a conceptual mind. And all conceptual minds are, by definition, effortful. Such a mind, Dzogchen teachers emphasize, will never contact the effortless state of liberation. Yet one must begin somehow, so one begins with foundational practices, known as ngöndro. These are practices that have traditionally provided entry to, and a vital foundation for, Dzogchen and other tantric paths. Looking closely at a few elements of these practices, we find crucial clues on how to meet the tricky situation of effort and non-effort, which affects practitioners across a broad band of traditions. Clues to the release of the apparent paradox of effort come not only in the practices designed to melt away conception, but also in profound stories about the transmission of those practices. The practices are what you do until you realize the story is true. Sometimes we are so focused on doing a practice "right" that we don't pay much attention to what created that practice in the first place and how it was transmitted. In oral and also in written teachings in Tibet, there are always stories of how the text or instruction one is receiving first emerged. In fact these stories are usually told before the practice itself is unveiled, and then more stories unfold as further explanation is given. As I look for clues about the deep structure of practice, I find these stories profoundly instructive. They have helped me begin to untie the paradoxical knot of effort and letting be. These stories speak deeply to the entire dimensions of body, mind and energy. Therefore, they connect directly to foundational practices. This is important to the extent that we are interested in discovering how we can meet the teachings with our being rather than with our usual wanting self. In other words, how we can absorb practices into ourselves, rather than holding them at arm's length, which is what happenswhen we wield them with effort. The foundational practices of ngöndro are ways to bring body, speech and mind into increasing harmony with the “great expanse” talked about in the Dzogchen teachings. This expanse is another name for reality, for mind-nature, for the state of liberation. Its vastness challenges the cramped and reified self-images that temporarily obstruct our view of the whole. Finitudes of any kind—the sense of being small, contained, an urgent rush of business, passions or plans—are simply conceptions. These conceptions are both the cause and the effect of energetic holdings in the body. The foundational practices illuminate these holdings and, finally, lead to their dissolution into that expanse. As my teacher Khetsun Sangpo Rinpoche has said, “Like a fire burning fuel, the mind consumes conception by working with it.” In the Tibetan traditions, teaching and practice sessions typically open with a reference to the foundational practices. Every lineage has its own variations, but the basic structure and principles of ngöndro are virtually identical across the Tibetan systems. The sequence usually begins, after an acknowledgement of one's guru or lineage and the intention to benefit all beings, with the Four Thoughts. These four are reflections on (1) the preciousness of one's own life, (2) its fragility and the uncertainty of death's timing, (3) the inexorable nature of karma, and (4) the impossibility of avoiding suffering so long as ignorance keeps one in samsara. In addition, there are two other contemplations: (5) the benefits of liberation compared to life in samsara and (6) the importance of a spiritual guide. These six are known as the outer foundational practices. These six outer practices are combined with five inner practices, each of which needs to be repeated 100,000 times. The first inner foundational practice is refuge, which is accompanied by the second, prostrations. There are different styles of prostrations, but these variations can be summarized as "long" and "short." Both begin by touching facing palms to heart, crown, throat and heart again. In the long prostration one then stretches full-length to the floor, arms extended; in the short prostration, one touches the ground with the "five points" of head, two hands and two knees (the two feet already on the ground are not part of this count). Once practiced, this is a very fluid motion, further animated by the rhythm of the refuge recitation The bodhicitta recitation, the third of the five practices, is repeated so as to strengthen one's intention to practice with a mind expansive enough to encompass the welfare of all living beings. The fourth practice is that of the hundred-syllable mantra associated with the radiant white Vajrasattva. It is said that Vajrasattva, whose name means "adamantine being," prayed that when he became enlightened he would have a special power to relieve beings of the obstructions to their enlightenment. Fifth is the mandala offering, in which one symbolically offers up all of one’s wealth, possessions and sense of one’s world. A special feature of the mandala offering in the Longchen Nyingthig (“The Heart Essence of the Vast Expanse,” a cycle of Dzogchen teachings) is the offering of the three buddha bodies—the enlightened dimensions of the emanation, resplendent and true aspects of enlightened beings. This in fact is an opportunity to experience the nature of reality as always offering and giving of itself. Indeed, every one of the foundational practices is an opportunity to experience some aspect of reality. Through the sheer process of repetition the mind is naturally drawn to discover new meaning behind the practice, and it is these discoveries that light the way. All these practices are also forms of Guru Yoga—they all provide opportunities to unify with the enlightened mind of the Buddha guru. Explicit Guru Yoga is also a crucial practice, and while it is not technically considered ngöndro, practitioners also accumulate recitations of the Vajra Guru mantra, ideally ten million over one's lifetime. The foundational practices thus combine mind-training through the four thoughts, surrendering oneself through prostrations, purification through Vajrasattva, prayers to the lineage, and above all, unification with Lama Mind in Guru Yoga. All these practices together, and any one of them individually, flow into the view of Dzogchen. Each of the inner practices offers an opportunity to allow your conceptual processes, thoughts and visualizations to dissolve into vastness. That vastness is an effortless state. Concepts and striving only obstruct it. Thus, ngöndro absorbs one's effort and transforms it into effortlessness. It is a path of many blessings, gradually reconfiguring the energies of body, speech and mind. The way of doing the foundational practices is also important with respect to the question of effort and effortlessness. Daily practice in the Tibetan traditions typically involves three deeply integrated elements: words, chanted melody and the energetically felt presence of enlightened beings who appear in front of you, dissolve into you or arise within you. Instructions for meditation are chanted aloud rhythmically, for they are poetry. The words describe the deities who are present and then address them, making requests, asking for blessings, above all establishing a relationship with them and with the part of oneself that they in a sense express. The rhythmic melody opens and moves currents of energy; the chanted words describe the vivid colors, poses and ornaments of the enlightened beings with you in meditation. You are engaged cognitively, energetically, imaginatively and vocally. These practices provide a point of departure from which we can step into space, letting go completely. Finding that point of departure, that foundation, is what these practices are about. Literally ngöndro means “that which goes before;” ngön in Tibetan means "before," and dro means "to go." So they are usually translated as "preliminary practices." This might be bad press, because most of us like to think of ourselves as sophisticated people who don’t need preliminaries. It is also misleading, because it sounds like a kind of kindergarten, something you graduate from. But you never leave these practices behind, just like a house never moves off its foundation. You don’t build a foundation and...

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