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Σάββατο 23 Μαρτίου 2013

True Perception - The Path of Dharma Art by Chogyam Trungpa





Outrageousness
I don't think you learn dharma art, you discover it; and you do not teach dharma art, but you set up an environment so it can be discovered.

DHARMA ART IS BASED on energy and conviction. In this regard, the perceptions of everyday life are seen as a resource, or working basis, for both the work of art and the practice of meditation. But there seems to be a need for two further types of energy-the energy of non-aggression and the energy of outrageousness.

Generally, outrageousness is a product of extending oneself: you can't contain yourself, therefore you become outrageous. You tend to spill over what you can't contain in your container. But that doesn't seem to be the case here. Outrageousness here is a sense of direct conviction, in which you feel intense humor, or intense energy and power, penetrating inside. Such outrageousness seems to be necessary, but it has to be accompanied by nonaggression. The question of nonaggression is based on whether you perceive your particular world in connection with glorifying your existence and your ego in the neurotic sense, or whether it is free from that.

That's very definite. But there seem to be mixed feelings in people's minds-inspiration is mixed with ego-centeredness. Somehow, that mixture tends to produce a sense of blindness in which you are unable to see the panoramic vision of a given situation, and consequently you are unable to act accordingly. So there's a problem with being self-centered, if there is aggression as well as self-consciousness. Self-consciousness alone doesn't seem to be a particularly big problem. In fact, sometimes there's room for being self-conscious: the constant checking, constant reviewing, might he a source of further cynicism toward one's ego, which could be desirable. But definitely aggression is a big problem.

Aggression is based on wanting to demonstrate something that you know, wanting to tell somebody the truth you have discovered. Although your demonstration might be okay, even fantastic, and the truth you have discovered may be relevant, the means and way the whole thing is presented seems to he a problem. From that point of view, we can't have rules and regulations as to what to say and what not to say, how to act and how not to act, particularly. The whole thing has to be genuinely intuitive. The medium, or the style that we use in presenting the truth, seems to be the crux of the matter. In other words, an artist may he able to present his or her work of art precisely and thoroughly. But a work of art doesn't come out purely transparent, without personalitv. A work of art always has the smell, so to speak, or the feelings of whoever produced that particular work of art. For instance, the smell and feeling of that person could be extraordinarily aggressive. In that case, no matter what the actual representations may be, the person behind it has a lot of aggression, so more garbage is involved. The question of nonaggression is extremely important. Nonaggression makes art the art of dharma, or truth-real art. Such art has a sense of real simplicity, without any handles attached. We only want to exhibit our work of art, perlhrrn our work of art, or live with our work of art.

In a lot of art there is a tendency to try to capture a glimpse of one moment of experience and make it into a solid eternity. We have some brilliant idea and we try to make it into a piece of art. But that is captured art. We try to capture our artistic talent in a particular work of art -a piece of music, a painting, a poem. Until that work of art is forgotten or destroyed, it is stuck on a piece of paper or Ofl a canvas or on a record that can be listened to over and over. It seems that such an attempt to solidify ones work of art, instead of giving birth to artistic talent, creates death for artistic talent.

We could shift our allegiance from death to life. In that case, art becomes a living continuity and is seen as a perpetual process. First somebody has an idea. The idea is presented in a very embryonic stage at the beginning. It begins as a seed, but then that embryonic essence begins to sprout and to make shoots. As it continues to develop and grow, it makes little flower buds. That concept of art is based on the idea of living. The basic point is that there is a sense of continuity in your understanding of life.

If you know who you are, what you are, where you are, and you have something to say about that, you could share it with your fellow human beings. That's fine. There's nothing wrong with that, as long as you don't want to publicize it. And even if you do want to publicize your embryonic discoveries, you don't spell out the whole thing at once. It is very tempting to spell everything out, which proves one's legitimacy, one's wisdom, or one's artistry. But according to the Buddhist tradition, in communicating with the world, particularly in the realm of art, the only thing you can do is hint, just give a basic headline. It depends on your attitude. If you want to demonstrate something very badly and you achieve that, then your work of art is a dead one. But if you present your work of art as a completely full message without spelling out every word of it, then you have just given the public a corner of what you might say. Therefore it is still fertile in people's minds and there is room for it to unfold. It is living art.

If you expound more than is necessary, it becomes apologetic. And it is boring because the audience begins to follow the logic while you are still standing on it. And you begin to pounce on it at the same time. I think the problem is that people are afraid they might be ignored, they might become failures, so they end up explaining everything they know, all the reference points at once. That attitude of poverty or failure makes your theater dirt, your poetry dirt. Usually the sense of something unsaid but implied makes more sense to people. It is not particularly holding back the truth, it is being honest and at the same time festive about what you have to say. Then art is a living process.

Nonaggression doesn't mean there is a regulation or cutting down of anything. Nonaggression is a product of awakened realization. You don't usually feel a sense of inhibition when you awake during the day from sleep. You just go about your everyday life, because awake and asleep are different. And of course you don't try to fall asleep in the middle of your activities during the day. But at the same time, you don't feel that you are inhibited from anything because you are not sleeping. Nonaggression is an organic process rather than a discipline or moral binding. Nonaggression is seeing through the aggression and realizing there are more ways to be active and efficient than being aggressive; it is realizing a new angle of energy.

In the case of meditation practice, either we do it at the simple, matter-of-fact level or we do it with a very meaningful religious or philosophical undertone. That undertone automatically becomes dogma and belief, and that belief becomes a very definite belief. Because that belief is very definite, therefore you should defend that belief. And defending that belief becomes aggression. The quality of outrageousness is the opposite of that-or the extension of that act without aggression. The definition of outrageousness is basically a sense of humor. In this case, humor is not particularly making fun and mocking somebody or something. Instead, it is an appreciative gesture. That is, things don't seem to be as heavy as we think they are, but they seem to be floating above the ground, and seemingly hilarious, funny, swift, and lucid.

At the same time, humor is not particularly casual or haphazard. The casual approach to life is often the result of being shy and feeling self-conscious and tense, so you would like to pass the buck or divert the attention to some other situation. But that also diverts the concentration of attitude and energy, so it is basically stupid rather than insightful. Humor is not like buying toys for your kids, which is somewhat lighthearted-unless the toy turns out to be extraordinarily expensive. And it is not at the level of the cheap world of plastics or teddy bears. It comes from delight and a sense of celebration. A sense of humor from that point of view is very transparent; at the same time, it is very definite. It has its own background and sanity.

Outrageousness is a question of being fearless in your celebration and your sense of humor. Sometimes it could be somewhat absurd and stubborn, but that seems to be the necessary eccentricity of this particular approach. Again, as long as it doesn't contain aggression and an exhibitionistic outlook, it seems to be quite simple. A sense of conviction brings fearlessness, outrageousness, and a sense of humor. And that basic sense of groundlessness and nonexistence brings up the question of aggression in the practice of art.

In dealing with aggression, we can't really separate ourselves into professional artists, amateur artists, and meditators. At the same time, somebody could be both a professional and an amateur artist and a meditator as well. Those areas are all related. Dharma art does not involve tricks or have to do with training artists in the Buddhist scheme. But our attitude toward art has to be expanded. This society in particular thrives on pigeonholing everybody's style and discipline into categories, which becomes very clumsy and imprisoning.

You could try to continue your artwork and your meditation together, whatever you do in your life and whatever job you might have. I don't think you learn dharma art, you discover it; and you do not teach dharma art, but you set up an environment so it can be discovered. It's like preparing a nice meditation hall, with nice cushions to sit on, so it's inviting for you to sit and take part in meditation practice. The makers of the meditation hail and the cushions can't make you meditate, particularly-that's what you can do. And that is dharma art, it seems to me.

Δευτέρα 21 Μαΐου 2012

Μέσα στην τρέλα και μέσα στον παραλογισμό της καθημερινότητας, η τέχνη πάντα είναι ένα απάνεμο και ασφαλές καταφύγιο. Ποια τέχνη όμως; Η αυθεντική τέχνη. Τι σημαίνει αυθεντική τέχνη;


Κωνσταντίνος Καβάφης «Εκόμισα εις την Τέχνη»

Κάθομαι και ρεμβάζω.   Επιθυμίες κ’ αισθήσεις
εκόμισα εις την Τέχνην—   κάτι μισοειδωμένα,
πρόσωπα ή γραμμές·   ερώτων ατελών
κάτι αβέβαιες μνήμες.   Aς αφεθώ σ’ αυτήν.
Ξέρει να σχηματίσει   Μορφήν της Καλλονής·
σχεδόν ανεπαισθήτως   τον βίον συμπληρούσα,
συνδυάζουσα εντυπώσεις,   συνδυάζουσα τες μέρες. 


Ας αφήσουμε τον Αλεξανδρινό κι ας πάμε ακόμα πιο ανατολικά. Ο Θιβετανός Τσόγκυαμ Τρούγκπα που γλίτωσε από τις σφαίρες των Κινέζων, όταν το 1969 εισέβαλαν στο Θιβέτ, γράφει σε άπτεστα αγγλικά τους προβληματισμούς του για την τέχνη. Μεταφράζουμε εδώ ενα αντιπροσωπευτικό απόσπασμα και παραθέτουμε παρακάτω ολόκληρο το κείμενο που έχει τίτλο "The Dharma Art Letter":

"Είτε έχουμε τη στάση του μαθητευόμενου που πιστεύει ότι θα μπορούσε να γίνει ακόμα πιο επιδέξιος στο χειρισμό του υλικού του, είτε έχουμε τη στάση του φτασμένου καλλιτέχνη, όταν στην πραγματικότητα δημιουργούμε ένα έργο τέχνης, υπάρχει η αίσθηση της πλήρους εμπιστοσύνης. Το μήνυμά μας είναι αυτό της εκτίμησης των πραγμάτων, έτσι όπως είναι, και το εκφράζουμε χωρίς κόπο και χωρίς φόβο. Εγκαταλείπουμε την επιθετικότητα, τόσο προς τον εαυτό μας ότι πρέπει να κάνουμε κάποια ιδιαίτερη προσπάθεια να εντυπωσιάσουμε τους άλλους, τόσο και προς τους άλλους, ότι μπορούμε να τους επιβάλλουμε κάτι."



The Dharma Art Letter


A letter written by Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche on the occasion of the Naropa Institute’s first summer program in Boulder Colorado, July 1974. Pgs. 1-2, True Perception.


The term dharma art does not mean art depicting Buddhist symbols or ideas, such as the wheel of life or the story of Gautama Buddha.


Rather, dharma art refers to art that springs from a certain state of mind on the part of the artist that could be called the meditative state.  It is an attitude of directness and unself-consciousness in one’s creative work.


The basic problem in artistic endeavor is the tendency to split the artist from the audience and then try to send a message from one to the other.  When this happens, art becomes exhibitionism.  One person may get a tremendous flash of inspiration and rush to “put it down on paper” to impress or excite others, and a more deliberate artist may strategize each step of his work in order to produce certain effects on his viewers.  But no matter how well-intentioned or technically accomplished such approaches may be, they inevitably become clumsy and aggressive toward others and toward oneself.


In meditative art, the artist embodies the viewer as well as the creator of the works.  Vision is not separate from operation, and there is no fear of being clumsy or failing to achieve his aspiration.  He or she simply makes a painting, poem, piece of music, or whatever.  In that sense, a complete novice could pick up a brush and, with the right state of mind, produce a masterpiece.  It is possible, but that is a very hit-and-miss approach.  In art, as in life generally, we need to study our craft, develop our skills, and absorb the knowledge and insight passed down by tradition.


But whether we have the attitude of a student who could still become more proficient in handling his materials, or the attitude of an accomplished master, when we are actually creating a work of art there is a sense of total confidence.  Our message is simply one of appreciating the nature of things as they are and expressing it without any struggle of thoughts and fears.  We give up aggression, both toward ourselves, that we have to make a special effort to impress people, and toward others, that we can put something over on them.


Genuine art—dharma art—is simply the activity of nonaggression.


Σάββατο 21 Μαρτίου 2009

Raising our children by Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche

Raising Our Children, Sharing Our World


By the Vidyadhara, Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche
Exclusive to the Shambhala Times, courtesy of Lady Diana Mukpo

I have been the father of my own personal, physical children. I have also been the psychological father of many semi-grownup children, and I have been the father of a larger vision, of how our world can actually give birth at all. I feel that I have the authority and the experience to express myself about all of these levels of fatherhood, although I still feel humble, nevertheless.

To begin with, I would like to correct a problem in our language. When we refer to our offspring, we should refer to them as children rather than kids. Calling our children "kids" is like referring to others as "you guys." It has a somewhat lighthearted connotation, but at the same time we sound embarrassed.

There are so many demands put on parents. In the Buddhist community, there is a demand on you to practice meditation and you have social obligations of all kinds, such as volunteer work and sharing other responsibilities within the community. On top of that, you have your job, you have your relationship with your partner-a husband or wife who might be quite a handful-and on top of that you have your children, who may be absolute handfuls to handle. So you might begin to feel that you are going to explode. You try to use every finger, let alone both hands, to help you maintain everything at once. Keeping up your daily schedule of meditation practice becomes impossible. And then, on top of that, you also have to look after your economy. There seems to be no time left to press your shirts or dress properly or clean your house. All sorts of demands are made on you. Partly because of your personal commitment to practice and partly because of other social commitments, all sorts of demands bounce back on you, so that you find your life completely full, absolutely full. We don't even have time to change a diaper, let alone change the oil in your car. But at the same time, those things are necessary. We have to make time for the most basic things in life, in order to make things valid.

When you are finally able to send your children to the babysitter or to school, at least part of your life seems to be taken care of, organized and worked on. But I should warn you about regarding your children only as sources of disturbance and disorder in your life. When you want to hear a certain lecture, go to some public function, or for that matter have an affair or spend time with your wife or your husband, there is often a tendency to want to park your children somewhere. You love them, of course, but nevertheless the mentality of regarding them as some kind of temporary nuisance comes up.

You would like to become a free person once more-for twenty-four hours or a few hours. You would like your freedom for even ten minutes-and so you provide your children with bottles and pacifiers to keep them occupied. In England, they call their pacifiers dummies, which should tell us something. I find that a very insulting attitude towards your own body and flesh-which are your children. Because you are having a very important discussion, you remove the kids from the room. You feed them somewhere else and put them to bed early. I'm not particularly saying that you should be on duty with your children twenty-four hours a day or that you should feel heroic and warriorlike in dealing with your children. But parking your children away somewhere or not even being able to find the time to clean them up is not so good.

On the one hand, there's a problem with sending your children to school to get rid of them so you can have some free time. On the other hand, practically speaking, in order to have time for anything else in your life, you need a school or some other situation for your children. However, there is a very thin, hairline's difference between having a convenience mentality towards caregivers as opposed to having dedication to one's child.

The main point I'm concerned with is that we should not transmit any sense of rejection to our children. Whenever we feel that the children are nuisances, that's because we are being the nuisance rather than our children. School should not be regarded as a place where you make a deposit, like a bank. You check your child in and get your serial number. When you finish your business, you can come back with your serial number and retrieve your child. Sending your children to school is not like checking your coat at a restaurant.

We are actually building a Buddhist world so that our children can grow up in an atmosphere that is right and good. It's revolutionary and represents a fantastic vision that we are trying to build such a world. We would like to bring up our children in a situation in which parents, teachers, caretakers and even administrators are all working together, joining forces to upgrade the early growth of our young ladies and gentlemen-which is fantastic.

I personally decided not to put my child into a school that was very sloppy. I didn't have any resentment of the caretakers, but I felt that the atmosphere was not good. It seemed that many of the children were parked there like little cars, and I didn't want to park my child in the parking lot. It was sloppy, dirty and casual, and without an appreciation of basic dignity. If there's basic vision, then I would include my child in that situation with delight.

It might be very convenient to have your children in a preschool of some sort, but school should be an expression of our dedication and our actual understanding so that our children can evolve there, so that we can actually build them up. Our children can learn how to eat, how to handle things, and for that matter how to roll around on the ground and how to relate with other children. Basically, we need to learn how to bring up all of our children as statesmen, royalty almost. In our world we don't have a prescribed royalty as such. However, everybody who learns to handle themselves and to relate with reality fully and properly and with dignity comes through that experience with confidence-which is the equivalent of royalty in this case.

Through applying Shambhala vision to how we raise our children, we develop mutual confidence, so that our children are not regarded as under-developed apes but as embryonic beings, who have the seed of being fully developed within them. As Buddhists, we say that people inherit their own Buddha nature. In dealing with their children, sometimes people forget this. Because young children can't eat, get dressed, change their diapers or walk without help, we regard them as subhuman beings. That would be called setting-sun vision. Setting-sun people do not believe in the Buddhist vision of Buddha nature. They think that human beings are basically apes and their approach to survival is based on the fear of death. Really being alive and actually performing properly in a real world is what we call Great Eastern Sun vision. It is very important to take that attitude towards raising our children. We have to understand that raising our children is actually upgrading basic human existence. The world of the Great Eastern Sun upgrades itself by itself. Sophistication, confidence, dignity, power, sanity and practice all build up tremendously if we work together and have the right attitude. We don't want to leave our children behind, obviously.

All sorts of nuisances may take place, but they are not setbacks. They are part of the journey. Although the tires on our vehicle might be punctured and our transmission might need to be replaced, we keep going. We continue on our journey. In fact, having children provides a tremendous connection with the real world and also with the dharmic world and the vajra world, if I may say so. I found that out myself. At the beginning of my journey, I felt: "I am a mendicant monk. How fantastic. How free!" Then I began to fall in love and I thought, "Maybe I can just fall in love and be with my wife. How clean cut." But when I first heard a San Francisco doctor say, "Congratulations. The test is positive," I didn't know what to say. I felt that I'd been pulled down, made into a part of the world, that the ship had dropped its anchor. Throughout the pregnancy, I was constantly suspicious.

But when my child was born, I realized that there could be no obstacles between my wife and myself. In fact, having a child opened a new avenue of relating with the Great Eastern Sun. It's a perpetually shiny and fantastic sun-although at some point I was hoping that it would be a daughter. It is a fantastic feeling to be a father and an originator of another clan, a further extension of my particular mission, which is to propagate the vajra world and the Shambhala world. It actually works, and it feels very good.

We should have some sense of delight in having children. We can actually open our world to them, whether they are large or small, ten years old or two weeks or even one day old. The Buddhist world is a real, genuine and powerful world. Some day, I hope that a Buddhist-inspired educational system can be presented, where children can actually learn to sit and practice. Some kind of early training and discipline are very much called for. It's not so much that we are trying to turn our children into Buddhists or Christians or anything else. But we are trying to share the world with them, which is a good world.

We might face all sorts of obstacles, but we can work with them one by one. When one baby needs a diaper changed, we do that. Another one might have diarrhea but we can work with that too, step by step. It's not so difficult. I've been changing a lot of diapers, for people young and old. I've been breast feeding a lot of people, as well as bottle feeding some of them. I myself have acted simultaneously as both father and mother. I appreciate how it feels. There is a lot to do, but the whole thing is wonderful.

Based on the Opening Talk to Alaya Preschool
March 10, 1978
Edited by Carolyn Gimian
Copyright 2009, Diana J. Mukpo