Hopelessness

WE HAVE DISCUSSED the nature of pain. That leads us to the subject of commitment, or discipline. What is meant by these words is committing ourselves to what is there, which is pain. The discipline is realizing that this commitment is self-existing. There is no way we can get out of this commitment, so we can make it a wholehearted one.

At this point, we have to understand the origin of pain. As we said, there is that sense of thingness that is hanging out with us all the time. It is part of our shadow. It constantly speaks to us the unspoken word of embarrassment, of inconvenient confusion. As we said, this thingness is connected with suffering and pain. Acknowledging that is our starting point.

It is more than just a starting point, because it inspires us to look further. It inspires us to discover what is behind that awareness of thingness. For example, I personally cannot say I love you or I hate you. There is something that holds us back, that is preventing us from saying such things. It is a sense that we do not want to commit ourselves to becoming involved with embarrassing private parts. And that thingness there that is holding us back has a back and a front. It is just a face, a mask. If you examine it, if you look at somebody who has a mask on and look behind it, you find all kinds of strings and knots. You begin to understand how this person keeps his mask on—with all the bundles of knots in back. Exposing this mask is discovering the origin of pain, of suffering.

The unmasking process is connected with the second yana, the pratyekabuddhayana. The mask develops when we try to trace our origins, trace back and back to the origin of the origin. The mask develops from our wanting to ignore ourselves as a confused person to begin with. There is a traditional image for this process of ignoring. It is called the blind grandmother.

The blind grandmother was the creator of our whole family, the whole race. She is also a professional in relating to all the functioning of mental games, ideas, objects, and so forth. But at the same time, she’s blind. She can’t see what’s happening right there, right now.

When we begin to understand the blind-grandmother principle, we realize how our process of ignoring, of not relating to the blind-grandmother-ness, is constantly creating further karmic chain reactions. Further levels of this process develop. The image for the next level is the potter. The potter makes a pot. He spins his potter’s wheel around. He throws mud, a dough made of mud, on his wheel, and in accordance with its speed and how he holds his hands, the potter makes a pot. He makes a pot out of the feeling, which is the volitional action of karma.

We have this thingness, this embarrassment, hanging out in our state of being. It is extremely embarrassing and inconvenient. When we look back, we want to ignore this; we don’t want to know anything about it. We might say, “It’s not me; it has nothing to do with me. It’s somebody else’s doing. She did it. He did it. I’m clean. I’m in the clear. My only duty is to stick to this thingness.” So we expand ourselves based on this thingness. We explore further and further and further. Having created these karmic situations, we go on with all twelve links of the karmic chain of existence, of our basic makeup: ignorance, volitional action, consciousness, name and form, sense perceptions, touch, sensation, desire, grasping, the further grasping that is copulation, birth, old age, and death. And we are back to square one. We go through all those processes, and each one has its traditional image.1

This entire map has been seen clearly, thoroughly, and completely by Buddha. Because of Buddha’s teaching, we know this entire map of our basic psychology and the origin of that thingness of ours in all the twelve causal links of karma. That thingness is created by going around and around through these twelve again and again. There is birth and death, which leads to a further birth, then ignorance and karma again. It is like a whirlpool, continually circling. That is what is called samsara. We go around and around and around in a circle. The end is the beginning. Each time we look for the end of the beginning, we create the beginning of the end. Each time we look for the beginning of the end, we create the end of the beginning. Each time we look for the end of the beginning, we create the beginning of the end. We go on and on in this way. We are in samsara, constantly going around and around trying to catch our shadow. The shadow becomes us, and we become the shadow again. It’s a constant circling, an endless game. Endless game after endless game after endless game. There are so many games happening.

What we are discussing at this point is the hinayana level, which involves making a complete study of the four noble truths. We are discussing the second noble truth, which is the truth of the origin of suffering. The origin of the suffering of our thingness is circling with speed. The origin of the suffering is the speed. Graspingness, re-creating one karmic situation after another. That is the basic point here.

This is all pretty ironic, maybe even funny. We could laugh at it—there is such foolishness taking place. It is such a foolish thing that we do. Isn’t it ironic? Isn’t it funny? Isn’t it actually absurd? Ha ha! But it is we who are ha-ha, and it turns out to be very grim actually. We might think, “Ha ha,” but it is not all that ha-ha, because it is our psychological portrait the way Buddha described it, which happens to be highly accurate. It’s very scientific. It’s very funny.

What’s next? Your guess is as good as mine. What’s next after what’s next after what’s next? What’s next? Could we get out of this? Trying to get out would be another circle? Sure we could get out of this. We could get out, and then we could get back in, and then we could start all over again. You are expectant: “Tell us more” [your expressions say]. Sure. By telling you more, we could get into it, then we could get out and get into it and then we could get out and get into it again.

As a matter of fact, the situation is pretty scary, haunting, frightening. In fact there’s no ground except the speed itself. No ground, and we go on and on. We could discuss the next subject and give birth to the next thing; then we’d have volitional action, karma, pain and suffering, touch, desire, copulation, death and old age, birth, ignorance all over again. All over again.

“Tell us about freedom, enlightenment.” Sure. By all means. But then: all over again. You get out, you get in. You’re liberated. You get onto the liberator’s bandwagon, and you take a journey, and you come back. You want to be victorious, win a war of some kind: Then you go around all over again, all over again.

We are not making fun of the samsaric world, not at all. We are taking the whole thing very seriously. This is a serious matter. It is a life-and-death matter, very serious. We are talking about reality, freedom, enlightenment, buddhahood, if I may be so presumptuous as to use these words. We are talking about something that is actually happening to us. But so far we haven’t touched upon the heart of the thing at all. So far we have just discussed the nature of our reality, the confusion that goes on in us all the time. “Nothing new,” you say. That’s true.

Ladies and gentlemen, you are so faithful and so honest and so straight-faced. I appreciate your seriousness and your long faces, listening to me. That’s beautiful—in a way. On the other hand, it’s rather grotesque seeing you with your long faces trying to find out about enlightenment.

From this chair, I see lots of faces without bodies, serious faces. Some are wearing glasses, some are not wearing glasses. Some have long hair, some have short hair. But in all cases, it’s a long face, made out of a skull wall. These faces—if I had a big mirror behind me, you could see yourselves—are so honest, earnest. Every one of you is a true believer. Every bit of even the glasses you are wearing is a true believer. It is very cute and nice and lovable. It’s beautiful—I’m not mocking you at all. I appreciate your patience. You had to wait for a long time and it’s late, and now there are all kinds of other things. You’re hungry. Probably you had planned to eat after the talk. Probably you are not used to sitting on the floor and would like a nice comfortable chair. All kinds of things go into making up that earnestness. But there is one thing that we haven’t touched upon yet, which is that the whole thing is completely hopeless.

Hopelessness. There’s no hope, absolutely none whatsoever, to be saved. Hopelessness. Let me define the word hopelessness. Hope is a promise. It is a visionary idea of some kind of glory, some kind of victory, something colorful. There are trumpets and flags, declarations of independence, all kinds of things that are hopeful. Nevertheless, we want to find out the truth here. Discussing the twelve nidanas, the twelve causal links in the karmic chain reaction that goes on all the time, and all the time, and all the time, we see that we have no chance, none whatsoever. As long as we possess a body and our face, our face and our facade, we have no chance at all of being liberated, none whatsoever. It is as hopeless as that. There is no hope, absolutely no hope. We are going to be drawn into, and drowned in, a deep pool of shit, an ocean of shit, that is bubbling, gray in color, but smelly at the same time. We are drowning in that all the time. This is true; and the situation is hopeless, absolutely hopeless.

We might think, “I’m very smart, extraordinarily smart. I’ve read all the books on Buddhism, about the twelve nidanas and about everything else. I have the answers. I’ve read about tantra. I’ve read about Naropa and Milarepa.2 I’ve read Meister Eckhart, the medieval mystic who talks about beautiful things. And I’ve even read about Don Juan, who says wonderful things about the nature of reality.3 I’ve read Krishnamurti, who is very sensible. I’m hopeful, obviously. There’s got to be a way out somewhere. There must be something. Things can’t be all that gray and hopeless.”

But what authority do we have? We’ve just read the books. Maybe we have a friend who has also read the books, and we comfort each other: “Hey, did you read that book? Isn’t that great?” “Sure. I agree with you.” We build up a whole organization of believing each other and we make each other feel good. However, there’s no lineage, no authority. There’s no transmission of information from somebody else’s true experience. We have no idea whether Don Juan exists. Maybe he’s purely Carlos Castaneda’s trip. For that matter, we also have no idea whether the books Meditation in Action or Cutting Through Spiritual Materialism were really written by myself. Maybe they’re somebody else’s idea of how things should be. The whole thing is subject to question. Possibly all the miracles described in The Life and Teaching of Naropa, translated by Herbert Guenther, supposedly translated by Guenther, were just made up. Do we really know that there was such a person as Naropa at all? How do we know there was such a person as Meister Eckhart? And is it possible that what he said was not true, even if there was such a person? And we have no idea about the actual origin of the Bhagavad Gita, which contains divine instructions concerning warfare. We have no idea.

Sometimes one wonders who is fooling whom.

Who thought of the idea of enlightenment, actually? Who dreamed up God? Who proclaimed himself as god over all the earth? It seems that the whole thing is full of shit, actually, if I may use such language. Full of dung.

Sometimes we ask questions because we are really frustrated and we hope to get something out of asking them. Sometimes it is because we are feeling slightly relaxed and want to expose any intrigues that may be going on. Maybe some people are playing a game at our expense, and we would like to expose it. Such trips are constantly going on in our minds. But one thing we haven’t come up with is a real understanding of those trips. This is because we haven’t fundamentally faced ourselves and the notion of hopelessness. All these messages in scriptures, textbooks, information media, magical displays—whatever we have—are not going to help us. They will just reinforce our blind-grandmother principle of complete ignorance, because we haven’t given up any hope. We’re still looking around to see if somebody’s cheating us. We still believe everything might be okay if we could beat that cheating. That is actually our problem. Nobody has given up hope of attaining enlightenment. Nobody has given up hope of getting out of suffering. That is the fundamental spiritual problem that we have.

We should regard ourselves as helpless persons. That is the first spiritual step we can take. Taking this step is entering what is called the path of unification.4 It is giving up hope; it is the step of hopelessness. The first path, which comes before this, is called the path of accumulation, in which we gather a lot of materials around us. Then comes the second path, the path of unification, which is giving up hope, totally, and at the same time realizing our helplessness. We have been conned by all kinds of trips, all kinds of spiritual suggestions. We’ve been conned by our own ignorance. We’ve been conned by the existence of our own egos. But nothing that has been promised is actually happening. The only thing that is going on is karmic volitional action, which perpetuates our desires and our confusion. Relating with that is the second path, the path of unification.

The reason it is called the path of unification is that there is a sense of uniting ourselves with ourselves. There is a path, there is a goal, and there is a practitioner of the path; but we realize that at the same time those are purely stage props, and the situation is utterly hopeless. We have no way of getting out of this misery at all. Once we realize that there’s no way of getting out of this misery, we begin to make a relationship with something. If we end up in prison with a life sentence, we decorate our cells with pinups and graffiti and make ourselves at home. We might begin to have more gentle feelings about the prison guard and start to enjoy the meals that are presented to us in prison.

Our problem all along has been that we have been too smart, too proud. Our feeling is: I want to stick my neck out all the time. I don’t want to relate with anybody else; I want to get enlightened. I’m going to be higher than the rest of you. I don’t want to have anything to do with you at all. That kind of attitude has been the cause of slowing down our spiritual journey. We would do better to take the attitude of the prisoner. Once we realize that we are trapped in our twelve nidanas, imprisoned, we begin to relate much more. We give birth to compassion in our prison cells. And our existence begins to make much more sense based on what we actually are.

I’m afraid this is very, very depressing. Still, it’s heroic at the same time. As you acknowledge the basic situation, you become a drummer of the dharma; you fly the flag of the dharma in your prison cell. You understand that your prison cell is made out of walls: this wall, that wall, this wall and that wall. And you have a simple floor and a simple meal. But those things become an interesting monastic situation. It is exactly the same as being in a monastery. Being in prison is the same thing.

That is why this yana is called the pratyekabuddhayana. Pratyekabuddha means “self-enlightened buddha.” You care about your environment, which is necessary, important, very basic, and also tremendously fun. The fun of hopelessness is very powerful, fantastic.

I’m afraid this is very boring. You see, Buddhism is the only nontheistic religion. It doesn’t contain any promises, or doesn’t permit any. It just suggests the basic necessity of working with ourselves, fundamentally, very simply, very ordinarily. It is very sensible. You have no complaint when you get to the other end of the trip of Buddhism. It’s a very definite journey.

Perhaps we could have a discussion, if you don’t feel too depressed. Student: From what you were saying about hopelessness, I guess it could help one relate to one’s environment better, but there is something else. Maybe I’m thinking of another kind of hopelessness, but it seems that hopelessness takes away the inspiration to practice at all. And the same thing in relation to the teacher. If you see him as not being able to save you either, it takes away your inspiration for relating to the teacher.

Trungpa Rinpoche: What’s the problem?

S: That seems to me to contradict what you were saying about hopelessness being a way to make a true relationship with the teaching. TR: Hopelessness is getting into the teaching more because you have no choice. When we think about hopefulness, that involves choices of all kinds. But when you realize that there’s no hope at all, the way we were talking about, you end up with just yourself. Then you can generate teachings or expressions of teachings within yourself.

Student: What influences you to slow down if you find yourself speeding?

Trungpa Rinpoche: Hopelessness, obviously. The more you speed, the more frustrated you get. So there’s no point in speeding. It’s hopeless. Student: Could you distinguish between hopelessness and despair?

Trungpa Rinpoche: Despair is still hopeful, and hopelessness is utterly hopeless. There is no ground to hang on to. You are completely wiped out, therefore you might hang on to your basic being.

Despair is a resentful attitude. You are in despair because you have a sense of retaliation against something or other. Hopelessness is a very genuine, beautiful, simple act. You’re hopeless—it’s a fantastic thing. You really are hopeless then, you know. There’s no trips about it. It’s clean-cut. Student: Rinpoche, does this mean that a person has to experience a lot of suffering before he becomes really hopeless? Or could it just happen on the spot?

Trungpa Rinpoche: Both.

Student: Rinpoche, it would make no sense to try to give up hope. If you did that, you would be hoping not to hope. How do you give up hope? Trungpa Rinpoche: You don’t. You’re stuck with hope. And then you’re disgusted with it.

Student: If there’s no trick to giving up hope, how do you manage not to shoot yourself? Trungpa Rinpoche: Shoot yourself? S: Yes.

TR: I don’t see the connection. S: When you’re faced with being a fake, that causes panic for sure. TR: But shooting yourself is creating more pain. S: Not for long.

TR: Really? How do you know? If you regard the body as the problem, then obviously you might be able to destroy your body. But the whole point here is that your mind is the problem. And you can’t get a gun that will shoot your mind. Let us know if you find such a gun. Student: It seems you’re saying that the only hope is hopelessness. Trungpa Rinpoche: That’s true.

S: But that’s a contradiction.

TR: No, the only hope is hopelessness. “Only hope” means that the ground, our sense of security, is the only hope, which is hopeless—you have no ground. You don’t make yourself into a target [for the pain] in any way at all, which is hopeless. The only hopelessness is not to provide yourself as a target. Student: Isn’t that true because when you have no hope, there are no expectations? You cease making judgments, so you like whatever you’ve got?

Trungpa Rinpoche: That could be said. S: Isn’t that the beginning of joy? TR: Let’s not rush too fast.

Student: Hopelessness is: Mind and body are equal? If body and mind are both dropped . . . hopelessness doesn’t become. So without hope and with hopelessness, would—

Trungpa Rinpoche: Please don’t try too many angles. It is hopeless straight. You can’t get around it. It will bounce back on you. Student: Is seeking the mind of a pratyekabuddha still in the realm of hope?

Trungpa Rinpoche: What I have been trying to say is that the mind of a pratyekabuddha is hopeless. We have gotten as far as that, the second yana. The first yana is the acknowledgment of pain. The second yana is the pratyekabuddha realizing hopelessness, realizing the hopelessness of the circle of samsara.

Student: Does the experience of hopelessness always have to be painful? It would seem that after a while you couldn’t keep up the pain or the pain would change to something else.

Trungpa Rinpoche: In the beginning it’s painful, but in the end, it’s reality.

Student: Do you have to realize the truth of your own death before you can become hopeless?

Trungpa Rinpoche: No, your own death is also hopeless. They go together. Your death is hopeless.

Student: At one point, you talked about discipline. You said getting at the origin of pain involved discipline. How does that discipline relate with how you get to hopelessness? Trungpa Rinpoche: Being faithful to your hopelessness is discipline.