Contradictions- Cutting Through Spiritual Materialism

I am struck lately by the ridiculous parntership of opposing feelings that seem to consume me. Quite frankly, I'm exhaustsed. I feel defeated, as if I will never figure it out. "It" being all of it. The constant unfulfilled and incomplete feeling that seems to be constant. I discovered Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche eight years ago in my early 20's after the death of my father, the nervous breakdown of my mother, an abusive romantic relationship on the way out with me barely breaking even to pay rent, never mind pursue the paths of dance and theatre that supposedly led me to this city. I found a Buddhist therapist referred to me by an old friend - one of the old-timers from the Shambhala Center - who'd learned and partied with Trungpa himself. The therapy lasted almost two years with me literally trembling on the couch trying to please this man who was my guru/therapsit. He made me doubt myself, laughed at me, made fun of the holes in my socks when I had no money (literally) to buy new ones and totally mocked me. . And yet, he showed me another universe. He showed me the puppet I had been for so long to please all others without knowing ever that I had played the puppet. He showed me this. He illuminated that I am not solid. That in fact everything is a story. Everything, that is, except when I watch my mind in meditation. The contradictions. Does the contradiction  of this man eradicate the joy I found in knowing that I was not my mind nor my body? No. The contradicions abide and the revelations were made.

After a while, I left. The man whom I had become romanically and obsessively cosumed with at the time - a pseudo replacement of the father that had slipped away from lymphoma, whom I spoke about in each and every session, began to see this Buddhist therapist. This therapist knew who he was the minute he called to ask for council.  I had told my boy to call him. In my 22 year old mind, I thought that if this man saw my guru, there was a chance he would "see", that he would fall in love with me. (ha!) And this guru/therapist knew my obsession due to the coutnless times I brought this boy up. When this boy called him for therapy and he said, yes, come, I decided it was time to leave.

But, we are changed from the people who challenge and rub up against us. Guru, neighbor, friend, lover, work colleague. We cannot live in a vacuum and this therapy relationship showed me that all things, especially the things that matter most and teach us the most profound lessons, are timbered with beauty and ugliness, confusion and illumination.

This notion started our group discussion last night at IDP, one of the Monday night sessions dedicated to Chogyam Trungpa's "Cutting Through Spiritual Materialism". The week before, John Baker had come as guest (which I missed) and discussed Chogyam Trungpa's somewhat nororious complexity as the guru party boy. It is no secret that Trungpa drank and loved to sleep with women. It seems that he lived his colorful life with open communication and no apologies. A student on Monday recounted that John Baker said something like, "I never saw him hurt anyone with this behavior....Well, actually, he hurt me."   Again, the contradiciton. The man whom we look to help us break free from our egos is the same man who perhaps made choices that we cannot respect.  Does that make his wisdom any less potent or weaken his ability to shed light? No. Of course not.

I spent the last three weeks caring for my mother who is living with early onset Alzheimers. There were times where I thought I was slipping down a rabbit hole, never to return. Where the hell was reality? One minute she was totally fine, telling me she enjoyed talking to her neigbor, Betty Hitchcock or how she will never forget the day I was born and the next minute she asks me where the toilet is and please, "don't leave me."  Within a second, the voice changes. One is that of a mother, the other that of a child. At first I am angry, because I am scared, because I know I am losing her. I know, in fact, these are the beginning stages or a darker world we will soon enter together, where she will not know me or where she is. And my anger is wild and like a dragon, until I remember all the moments of meditation and asana practice of being the dog, lizard or cat, and the countless times I have sat at different teachers feet to listen about karma or the Six Realms or the Four Noble Truths or what a Bodhisattva is or what letting go is or what compassion is or as Trungpa says,

"We discover the Third Noble Truth, the truth of the goal: that is, non-striving. We need only drop the effort to secure and solidify ourselves and the awakened state is present. But we soon realize that just "letting go" is only possible for short periods. We need some discipline to bring us to "letting be." We must walk a spiritual path. Ego must wear itself out like an old shoe, journeying from suffering to liberation."

Truthfully, all this stuff is great to talk about and ponder and discuss and blog about but at the end of the day these teaching are what will fucking save us in that they tell us that they can never save us, but instead, we can learn to fully be in it, whatever it is. We can learn not to strive. We can learn to stop trying to re-create the moment we had last Tuesday when we felt so happy. So much of the pain I experienced was because I was so damn stubborn trying to get the mother back that I used to have. I cannot have that mother anymore. That mother is gone. The mother I have now changes from second to second and she is pretty fascinating and while sometimes exasperating utterly real. And if I am not present, I will miss it. I will miss all the moments now. 

He says, too, in "Cutting Through Spiritual Mateirialism", "Being open does not mean being unresponsive. It means being free to do whatever is called for in a given situaion. ....You neither care nor do not care. You are just there."

This pisses me off, makes me sigh, makes me feel like a failure. How can I not care? I care all the time. I wonder, is it my karmic baggage that makes me care? Perhaps this time around I'm learning to let that go and next time will be easier? Perhaps for others now it's easier to not care?

I wonder, too, if Trungpa Rinpoche totally lived out what he preached, in terms of his own mind. It's not for me to know. What I do think, though, is that perhaps he did not fully own the great responsibility to care for those who looked to him as gate-keeper to the path; not sure if he fully owned the fact that he had the power to crush a person and that many of his decisions probably did hurt a lot of people. Yet, again, here lies the contradicion. What came to me and led me to sit down and write this is that I think maybe we must stop looking for a person, relationship, world where there aren't contradictions. We are all hurting and wanting to love and be loved in ways that could never be written or spoken. Does that make our attempts to love or our discipline to watch our minds any less valid? I think not.

I thank Chogyam Trungpa for not being perfect. He fought the good fight. His books and the stories passed on to us by those who knew him are his wish for us to supass him. Isn't that what all great teachers hope for their students?