SHAMATHA AND VIPASHYANA IN THE DZOGCHEN TRADITION
CUTTING THROUGH TO THE SUBSTRATE
In today’s fast-paced world, with so many demands on our time and so little leisure, it is understandable that we seek shortcuts to fulfill our desires, including the goal of spiritual liberation. If time and resources limit us to a daily practice punctuated by occasional retreats, common sense suggests that we should focus on the most profound methods available. Consequently, Theravadin Buddhists tend to emphasize insight meditation and Tibetan Buddhists focus on the practices of Vajrayana, including Dzogchen, or the Great Perfection. But in our haste to ascend to the summits of Buddhist meditation, we are prone to overlook the importance of establishing a base camp on the way up. In particular, many modern followers of Dzogchen have gotten the idea that on the fast track to enlightenment, there is no need for the practices of shamatha and vipashyana. All that is needed is “open presence,” or simply resting in “not-doing.” Nothing could be further from the truth.
The necessary base for the effective practice of Dzogchen that is commonly neglected is the experience of the substrate consciousness. The meditative experience of this dimension of consciousness plays a crucial role in the practice of Dzogchen. This is indicated in the writings of Prahevajra, the first teacher of Dzogchen in our historical era, who summarized the Buddha’s teachings in three points: first, cut through to the very root of the substrate (Skt. alaya); second, investigate the source of samsara; and third, rest naturally in pristine awareness (Tib. rigpa).1
The meaning of the substrate is explored in The Vajra Essence, revealed to the eminent master Düdjom Lingpa, who is said to have been an incarnation of Drogpen Kyeuchung Lotsawa, one of the twenty-five disciples of Padmasambhava. His subsequent incarnations included H. H. Dudjom Rinpoche (1904–87), the late supreme head of the Nyingma order of Tibetan Buddhism. The true substrate, he writes, is an immaterial, spacelike vacuity, devoid of thought, in which sensory and mental appearances cease.2 This state is spontaneously accessed when one falls into deep, dreamless sleep, when one faints, and when one dies, but then one normally loses consciousness. However, it is possible to vividly experience the substrate by achieving the state of meditative quiescence, or shamatha.
From the substrate arises a radiant, clear state of awareness, the substrate consciousness, which illuminates all sensory and mental appearances. Düdjom Lingpa describes the result of accessing the substrate by settling the mind in its natural state:
You will become still in an unfluctuating state, in which you experience joy like the warmth of a fire, luminosity like the dawn, and nonconceptuality like an ocean unmoved by waves. Yearning for this and believing in it, you will not be able to bear being separated from it, and you will hold fast to it. . . . That is called ordinary shamatha of the path, and if you achieve stability in it for a long time, you will have achieved the critical feature of stability in your mind-stream.3
While dwelling in shamatha, he explains, the ordinary mind of a sentient being disappears, as it were, and roving thoughts vanish into the substrate, along with oneself, others, and objects. “Someone with an experience of vacuity and luminosity who directs his attention inward may bring a stop to all external appearances and come to a state in which he believes there are no appearances and no thoughts. This experience of brilliance from which one dares not part is the substrate consciousness.”4 Düdjom Lingpa warns against the danger of mistaking this meditative state for pristine awareness. By getting stuck here, one will not come the slightest bit closer to liberation, for this is an ethically neutral state in which mental afflictions and obscurations are merely muted, not eradicated at the root.
The Vajra Essence presents the entire path to enlightenment, beginning with the common and uncommon preliminary practices, followed by the practices of shamatha, vipashyana, classic stages of Vajrayana practice, and finally the two stages of the Great Perfection, the breakthrough (Tib. trekchö) and the direct crossing-over (Tib. tögal), culminating in three levels of achievement of the rainbow body (Tib. jalü). While insisting on the indispensability of dissolving the ordinary mind into the substrate consciousness by achieving shamatha, Düdjom Lingpa acknowledges that “among unrefined people in this degenerate era, very few appear to achieve more than fleeting stability.”5 It is said that thirteen of his disciples achieved rainbow body and a thousand achieved direct realization of pristine awareness. Though many teachers nowadays find reasons to deemphasize shamatha, none has achieved comparable successes in leading their disciples to such high stages of realization.
Returning to the writings of Prahevajra, once one has settled in this “natural state” of the mind, the first step is to investigate where the mind comes from, where it dwells in the present, and where it finally departs. By means of such vipashyana, or contemplative insight meditation, one realizes that the mind does not truly emerge from anywhere, is not located anywhere once it has arisen, and does not go anywhere when it vanishes. Having no shape, form, or color, it is a luminous emptiness that transcends every mental construct. In this way, by means of vipashyana, one cuts through the substrate. It is hard to imagine how one could cut through the substrate without first experientially realizing it—which must be done through the practice of shamatha.
On this basis, again with the practice of vipashyana, we investigate the root of samsara by experientially seeking the location of our self among mental states and processes, our body, sensory appearances, and the external environment. In this way we discover that the “I” doesn’t truly exist anywhere—in the body, mind, or elsewhere—as we generally assume it does. Following this second stage of practice, we naturally enter the state of pristine awareness, effortlessly relaxing the mind in the very state of not finding, without grasping onto the self or any other object. Such contemplative insight is said to have the potential to fully eradicate the deeply ingrained, habitual tendency of grasping onto the self, but only when it is supported with the mental stability of shamatha.
The indispensability of shamatha within the Dzogchen tradition is clearly stated by many of the greatest masters of India and Tibet, but this leaves open the question of where such practice fits on the path. In the “earth treasure” called Natural Liberation, revealed in the fourteenth century by Karma Lingpa, Padmasambhava presents the entire path to enlightenment in a sequence of practices beginning with meditations on the nature of suffering, the preciousness of human life, impermanence, taking refuge, bodhichitta, and the four immeasurables; Vajrasattva meditation; mandala offering; prayers to the guru lineage; and receipt of the four empowerments. With this foundation in the preliminary practices, he proceeds directly to shamatha, presenting a series of practices, including settling the mind in its natural state, which was described previously. His presentation culminates with these quintessential instructions for the practice of “shamatha without a sign”:
Cast your gaze downward, gently release your mind, and without having anything on which to meditate, gently release both your body and mind into their natural state. Having nothing on which to meditate, and without any modification or adulteration, place your attention simply without wavering, in its own natural state, its natural limpidity, its own character, just as it is. Remain in clarity, and rest the mind so that it is loose and free. Alternate between observing who is concentrating inwardly and who is releasing. If it is the mind, ask, “What is that very agent that releases the mind and concentrates the mind?” Steadily observe yourself, and then release again. By so doing, fine stability will arise, and you may even identify awareness.6
Padmasambhava concludes his explanation of the nature and significance of shamatha for the practice of Dzogchen as follows:
Flawless shamatha is like an oil lamp that is unmoved by wind. Wherever the awareness is placed, it is unwaveringly present; awareness is vividly clear, without being sullied by laxity, lethargy, or dimness; wherever the awareness is directed, it is steady and sharply pointed; and unmoved by adventitious thoughts, it is straight. Thus, a flawless meditative state arises in one’s mind-stream; and until this happens, it is important that the mind is settled in its natural state.7
These teachings on shamatha are followed by Padmasambhava’s instructions on vipashyana, dream yoga, the breakthrough, transference of consciousness (Tib. phowa), the direct crossing-over, and practices for gaining a fortunate rebirth from within the intermediate state (Tib. bardo; Skt. antarabhava). Clearly, he considered shamatha to be a necessary foundation for these more advanced practices.
The treasure revealer (Tib. tertön) Lerab Lingpa similarly highlights the importance of shamatha in his oral commentary to the Profound Heart Essence of the Great Chetsün Vimalamitra, which consists of three parts: the preliminaries to the profound practical instructions, the main practice, and the concluding instructions. The preliminaries, once one has made the mind stream a suitable vessel, are of two kinds: the common preliminaries, consisting of the sevenfold mental training, and the uncommon preliminaries, consisting of the five special accumulations and purifications. Tertön Lerab Lingpa comments, “The sevenfold methods of training the mind are the indispensable crown jewel of all spiritual people and do not pertain solely to this practice.” They are:
1.Meditation on impermanence;
2.Meditation on the way even the pleasures of samsara are causes leading to unhappiness;
3.Meditation on the way there is no closure, no matter how much we strive for favorable circumstances in samsara;
4.Meditation on the futility of all good and bad illusory human pursuits;
5.Meditation on the benefits of liberation;
6.Meditation on the importance of the guru’s practical instructions; and
7.The crucial way to maintain the mind in its natural state.
The seventh of these methods concerns the cultivation of shamatha, which is presented here in full:
Simply hearing your spiritual mentor’s practical instructions and knowing how to explain them to others does not liberate your own mind-stream, so you must meditate. Even if you spend your whole life practicing a mere semblance of meditation—meditating in a stupor, cluttering the mind with fantasies, and taking many breaks during your sessions due to being unable to control mental scattering—no good experiences or realizations will arise. So it is important during each session to meditate according to your mentor’s oral instructions.
In solitude, sit upright on a comfortable cushion. Gently hold the “pot breath” until the vital energies converge naturally. Let your gaze be vacant. With your body and mind inwardly relaxed, and without allowing the continuum of your consciousness to fade from a state of limpidity and vivid clarity, sustain it naturally and radiantly. Do not clutter your mind with many critical judgments. Do not take a shortsighted view of meditation, and avoid great hopes and fears that your meditation will turn out one way and not another. At the beginning, have many daily sessions, each of them of brief duration, and focus well in each one. Whenever you meditate, bear in mind the phrase “without distraction and without grasping,” and put this into practice.
As you gradually familiarize yourself with the meditation, increase the duration of your sessions. If dullness sets in, arouse your awareness. If there is excessive scattering and excitation, loosen up. Determine in terms of your own experience the optimal degree of mental arousal, as well as the healthiest diet and behavior.
Excessive, imprisoning constriction of the mind, loss of clarity due to lassitude, and excessive relaxation resulting in involuntary vocalization and eye movement are to be avoided. It does only harm to talk a lot about such things as extrasensory perception and random dreams or to claim, “I saw a deity; I saw a ghost; I know this; I’ve realized that,” and so on. The presence or absence of any kind of pleasure or displeasure, such as a sensation of motion, is not uniform, for there are great differences in the dispositions and faculties from one individual to another.
Due to maintaining the mind in its natural state, there may arise sensations such as physical and mental bliss, a sense of lucid consciousness, the appearance of empty forms, and a nonconceptual sense that nothing can harm the mind, regardless of whether or not thoughts have ceased. Whatever kinds of mental events occur—be they gentle or violent, subtle or gross, of long or short duration, strong or weak, good or bad—observe their nature, and avoid any obsessive evaluation of them as being one thing and not another. Let the heart of your practice be consciousness in its natural state, limpid and vivid. Acting as your own mentor, if you can bring the essential points to perfection, as if you were threading a needle, the afflictions of your own mind-stream will subside, you will gain the autonomy of not succumbing to them, and your mind will constantly be calm and composed. This is a sound basis for the arising of all samadhis of the stages of generation and completion.
This is like tilling the soil of a field. So from the outset, avoid making a lot of great, exalted, and pointless proclamations. Rather, it is crucial to do all you can to refine your mind and establish a foundation for contemplative practice.8
Immediately following the teachings on the seven common preliminaries, Lerab Lingpa teaches the uncommon preliminaries: going for refuge, the cultivation of bodhichitta, purifying obscurations through the practice of Vajrasattva meditation, accumulating merit by offering the mandala, and guru yoga. Finally, the main practice consists of the stages of generation and completion, followed by the two phases of Dzogchen practice, namely the breakthrough and the direct crossing-over. In this way, he emphasizes the importance of achieving shamatha by settling the mind in its natural state as an essential foundation for all Vajrayana practices, including Dzogchen.
Without achieving such an experience of stable and vivid samadhi through the achievement of shamatha, we may catch fleeting glimpses of pristine awareness, but we are unlikely to sustain it or readily access it again. Consequently, such breakthrough experiences may soon disappear, leaving only a fading memory and a lingering sense of nostalgia.
According to these eminent Dzogchen masters, the authentic path of the Great Perfection requires that we first dissolve our ordinary mind and physical senses into the substrate consciousness through the practice of shamatha, such that all appearances vanish into the substrate. This is like a base camp allowing us to climb the heights of vipashyana, resulting in a direct experience of the empty nature of the self and all other phenomena. Finally, we ascend to the summit of pristine awareness, realizing the ultimate ground of all phenomena and the ultimate nature of our own mind. There may be no shortcut to the Great Perfection, but this is a direct path to spiritual awakening.
INVESTIGATING THE SOURCE OF SAMSARA
Having explored the nature and significance of achieving shamatha by cutting through to the substrate, let us now turn to the second phase of practice according to the teachings of Prahevajra: investigating the source of samsara. As noted earlier, according to all schools of Buddhism, the root of suffering is the delusion of grasping onto our own identity as inherently existent and absolutely separate from all other sentient beings and the rest of the universe. Consequently, vipashyana meditation often begins with an investigation into the nature of our own identity and then gradually proceeds outward to the examination of all other phenomena. The following account of vipashyana as it is taught in the Dzogchen tradition is drawn from notes taken by the students of Düdjom Lingpa on the basis of his oral commentaries to his own mind treasure entitled Buddhahood Without Meditation.9 These notes were compiled and published as A Garland for the Delight of the Fortunate: A Clear Elucidation of Words and Their Meaning, an Explication of the Oral Transmission of the Glorious Guru, as Notes on the Nature of Reality, the Great Perfection, Buddhahood Without Meditation.10
According to the Dzogchen view, even when one is resting in the substrate, there is a dormant proclivity for self-grasping that does not fade away, no matter how long one remains in this state. This latent consciousness of the mere appearance of a real self—although none in fact exists—persists when awake, while dreaming, and when the mind dissolves into the substrate, during dreamless sleep and even more deeply at death; and it continues during the intermediate state and on into future lifetimes. It is called “the causal ignorance of oneself alone.” Once this consciousness is catalyzed by appearances into grasping onto that which is not an “I” as being “I,” subsequent states of consciousness arise together with discursive thoughts that clarify, stabilize, and fortify this sense of self. This delusional process is called “grasping onto personal identity,” and it is the reification of the self as something inherently existent.
As soon as one grasps onto oneself as a real, separate entity, all that is not “I” is simultaneously excluded as separate from oneself, and thus the duality between oneself as a subject and everything else as objects is reified. Buddhist tradition declares that there are two fundamental kinds of delusion: instinctual delusion that is innate in all sentient beings and acquired delusion that is developed over the course of a lifetime. The re ification of the duality of subjects and objects is a fundamental instinctual delusion. On the basis of grasping onto appearances so that they appear to be discrete objects, inherently separate from everything else, the conceptual mind individually designates objects in the surrounding inanimate environment and its sentient inhabitants. This occurs in preverbal infants, even in embryos, as well as in other species that make little or no use of language. There is great variation, however, in the ways that diverse individuals, let alone different species, reify objects and substantiate them as separate entities. These phenomena do not define or demarcate themselves; rather, the conceptual minds of various beings dissect the flow of appearances in myriad ways, resulting in many different experiential worlds. Each world of experience of the past, present, and future arises relative to the modes of perception and conceptual frameworks of those who experience it. None is absolutely, objectively real. This delusional reification and fortification of the distinct referents of thoughts is acquired delusion. The sequence of the causal ignorance of oneself alone, followed by the instinctual delusion of reifying the duality of subject and object, followed by the learned ignorance of reifying and fortifying the distinct referents of thoughts, gives rise to all worlds of experience, both human and nonhuman. Such delusion lies at the root of all suffering.
To penetrate the delusion of grasping onto our personal identity, we experientially investigate the origin, location, and destination of the self. Following Padmasambhava’s instructions for the practice of shamatha without a sign, described earlier in this chapter, we introspectively probe into the nature of the self that controls the mind by alternately concentrating and releasing the attention. As a result of such practice, the conscious sense of “I am” dissolves, and eventually all thoughts dissolve into the substrate. In contrast, in the vipashyana investigation of the self, we arouse the sense of personal identity and examine it carefully, like a physicist who uses a magnetic field to suspend an atom in a vacuum for close inspection. Here we are investigating the reified referent of the label “I,” and the method is very similar to that described in the previous chapter, highlighting the common ground between Indian Buddhism as a whole and the Dzogchen tradition.
First we investigate the source of the self, clearly detecting our lived sense of being a person and an agent and then inquiring whether this “I” emerges from any of the physical elements of earth, water, fire, air, or space. Immediately we confront the radical disparity between the materiality of these elements and the insubstantial “I.” If the self is truly an emergent property of matter, such as the electrochemical events in the brain, it should display physical qualities, like its source. Scientists have identified many kinds of properties that emerge from configurations of mass-energy, and all of them can be detected physically and have physical attributes. The self, in contrast, is undetectable to all physical systems of measurement, and it exhibits no physical qualities. Moreover, when each of the constituents of the body is examined, from the brain down to the toes, no objective “I” is anywhere to be found. So there is no good reason to believe that the self emerges from physical phenomena either inside or outside the body. The self doesn’t really originate from anything, anywhere.
Next we examine the location of this real self with which we so strongly identify. Objectively, once the self has come into existence, it is nowhere to be found among any of the physical elements either inside or outside the body. One by one, we attend to each of the anatomical parts of our body, noting that each has its own name, such as “brain,” “neuron,” “synapse,” and so on, and none of them is called “I.” The self has no real location.
Since the self has no real origin in the past and no location in the present, it is implausible that it could really go anywhere in the future. And yet, the sense of self repeatedly manifests, both in the waking and dreaming states. If there is a real self that exists while we are awake, we check to see whether this self is identical to the self that appears while dreaming. If they were truly identical, then if we were injured in a dream last night, those injuries should carry over into waking experience today. But they don’t. The person we identify with in a dream seems to vanish upon awakening, just as the waking self vanishes when we fall asleep and begin dreaming. Every night there arises a new self in each dream, and every day another self emerges; if all of them were real, there would be hundreds of selves arising within a single continuum of consciousness each year. And with the birth of each such self, there must be a death of a self, implying that our living space must be littered with hundreds of dead selves. This doesn’t appear to be the case.
However, with the passing of these waking and dreaming states of consciousness, if each self becomes utterly nonexistent, more problems arise. If the self is nonexistent to begin with, then it can’t freshly become nonexistent. If it really existed, it should be detectable somewhere. But it isn’t. Therefore, the self is neither truly existent nor truly nonexistent. It doesn’t go anywhere, and there is no one who is really there in the first place.
By investigating the origins, location, and destination of the self, we find that even though there is a persistent, robust sense of a real “I,” this appearance is misleading. It’s like an optical illusion, and all references to a real self are fictitious, for there is no real referent of the label “I.” Through this meditative process, we strike at the root of delusion by recognizing the error of reifying our own personal identity.
Having examined the subjective referent of the word “I,” we now turn to the objective referents of all other labels of phenomena. Appearances arise to our six senses, and the conceptual mind selects particular segments and superimposes objects onto these appearances, with each object “possessing” various parts and attributes. Appearances, parts, and attributes constitute the basis upon which the labels of objects are designated, and in the next phase of vipashyana meditation, we inspect these bases of designation. The central question to be explored is whether or not the bases of designation are identical to the labeled objects that are imputed upon them. The Buddhist hypothesis is that the imputed objects do not objectively exist anywhere among their bases of designation. These bases are in fact “empty” of the objects projected upon them.
Like the Buddha’s example of closely inspecting a chariot to investigate the nature of phenomena, Düdjom Lingpa suggests beginning the examination of the nature of the “I” by closely inspecting what we call a “head.” This label may be designated on the face, hair, ears, skull, or brain, for example, but none of these is identical to a head. Each component has its own label. Each of the many components of the head has its own distinct parts and qualities, while the head has its own parts and qualities that are not identical to any of its parts. Moreover, the mere assembly of all the so-called components of the head does not constitute a head. There is no time at which the many distinct entities that are said to “belong” to a head objectively unite into a single entity known as a head. The label “head” is imputed upon many appearances, parts, and qualities, none of which is a head. Furthermore, the head is not always designated in the same way. Sometimes this label is designated on the face, some times on the hair, sometimes on the skull, sometimes on the brain, and so on. But the face, hair, skull, and brain are not a head, nor do they inherently belong to a head. All the bases of designation of a head are devoid of a head. Apart from the process of conceptual designation, there is nothing that is objectively a head, ready to serve as its basis of designation. Düdjom Lingpa summarizes this point: “Therefore, the ‘head’ is nothing more than a verbal expression, while the basis of that verbalization has no objective existence. It is necessary to correctly recognize exactly how that is so.”11
Just as the label “head” is designated upon component parts that are not a head, so each of those parts has its own label that is designated upon other parts. The label “brain,” for instance, is imputed upon the cerebral cortex, brain stem, neurons, synapses, glial cells, and so on, but none of these individually or collectively constitute a brain. Some parts of a person’s brain might be missing, but we would still say that this person has a brain. How many parts need to be present before the label “brain” can be imputed, and how many parts need to be missing before that label is withdrawn? The answers to these questions depend on the conventional usage of our human term “brain,” which also varies from one language and culture to another. There is nothing that is objectively, independently an a priori brain, waiting to be correctly labeled. A “brain” conventionally comes into existence when the label is designated upon parts and qualities that are not brains.
The same is true of all phenomena in the external environment. For example, the label “mountain” may be imputed on soil, rocks, shrubs, and trees, but each of these many things has its own label, and none of them is a mountain. Furthermore, at no point in time do these separate things objectively congeal into one thing—a mountain—which then objectively possesses them as its parts. The whole mountain is conceptually projected onto its parts, such as soil, rocks, and trees. The whole does not come into existence until that conceptual designation takes place, and it does not pass from existence until that label is removed. In short, the basis of designation of any entity is always empty of that entity. Nothing inherently exists, with its own parts and attributes, independently of our conceptual designation.
Even though all phenomena—subjective ones, like the conceptual mind that designates objects, as well as objective ones, including all conceivable things—are empty of their own inherent nature, they do arise as dependently related events or appearances from emptiness. All conditioned phenomena arise as dependently related events, each one existing relative to the causes and conditions that gave rise to it and relative to the means by which it is apprehended. Sensory objects exist relative to the sensory faculties by which they are perceived, and conceptual objects exist relative to the minds that conceive them. But this is not how either subjects or objects appear. To the deluded mind, each one appears as if it has its own inherent identity, independent of the way it is perceived or conceived. In this way, the appearances of all phenomena are misleading and illusory.
Düdjom Lingpa explains the emergence of dependently related events by way of the interaction of the ground and contributing conditions. The ground of all appearances is the luminous, transparent, absolute space of phenomena, from which all appearances of the universe emerge. The consciousness that grasps onto the “I,” together with its assemblies of thoughts, serves as the contributing condition. When the ground and this condition are conjoined, appearances arise as dependently related events. All appearances are composed of events that are dependent on the ground, and they are related to the nondual union of the absolute space of phenomena and the myriad appearances of the world. For these reasons they are called “dependently related events,” which appear subjectively and objectively, even though they don’t really exist by their own nature.12
Because of this fundamental discrepancy between the way phenomena appear and the way they exist, appearances are said to be illusory and dreamlike. The subjective and objective appearances in a dream are also dependently related events emerging from a confluence of causes and conditions. Their cause, or ground, is the limpid, luminous substrate, which can display all kinds of appearances. The consciousness and experiences of the person who is asleep serve as the contributing conditions. When those two are conjoined, the dependently related appearances of a dream emerge, even though they don’t really exist. The things we perceptually experience and conceptually identify in a dream are events that arise in dependence upon the substrate, in relation to the nondual union of the substrate and dream appearances.
Düdjom Lingpa explains the similarity between the ways we reify phenomena during a dream and during the waking state:
During a dream, regarding the vast environment of the outer, inanimate universe, the many inner sentient beings who inhabit the world, and all the beautiful, intervening objective appearances of the five senses, instead of thinking “This is a dream, and I exist in some other world,” you reify it. Likewise, regarding your constructed house, plowed fields, and all your accumulated wealth and enjoyments, you think these all existed since the times of your forebears. Moreover, just as you think of your enemies and friends and the owners of this place and that place, getting bound up in reifying and fixating on objects in a dream, so do you become confused by reifying and fixating on all the appearances of the waking state, dreams, the intermediate state, and thereafter, which are like the appearances of a dream, which don’t actually exist.13
When you “wake up” within the dream and recognize the dream state for what it is, you recognize that nothing in the dream—neither yourself, nor other people, nor the surrounding environment—really exists independently of the dreaming mind. Everything that objectively appears to be solid and tangible and everything that subjectively appears to be “me” and “mine” is empty of its own intrinsic nature. Realizing the emptiness of all dream phenomena results in great bliss, fearlessness, and freedom. You become lucid during the dream state by coming to know its true nature, free of reification. Likewise, by truly “waking up” during waking experience, you recognize that nothing in the world—neither yourself, nor other people, nor the surrounding environment—really exists independently of the mind that designates it. You become lucid during the waking state by correctly distinguishing between appearances and reality, free of reification. This realization of emptiness is the great liberation that eradicates the very root of instinctual delusion.
RESTING NATURALLY IN PRISTINE AWARENESS
Once we have thoroughly investigated the root of cyclic existence, we are ready to progress to the culminating phase of Dzogchen practice, which Prahevajra calls “resting naturally in pristine awareness.” Düdjom Lingpa describes this practice in terms of three kinds of space: external, inter
nal, and secret. All the phenomena of the external, inanimate universe, all sentient beings, their sensory appearances, mental states, and processes are called “external” space. The realization of all phenomena as being devoid of true existence, having no inherent reality of their own, is called “internal” space. The realization of the indivisibility of external space and internal space as being of the one nature of your own pristine awareness, in which luminosity and emptiness are indivisible, is the inconceivable “secret” space. All phenomena are thus displays of the ground of being, the absolute space of phenomena, indivisible from pristine awareness.
Pristine awareness eternally pervades the mind streams of all sentient beings. However, due to our reifying external objects and our own internal mind, pristine awareness is shrouded by ignorance. To recognize it, we must first realize the manner in which all phenomena that appear to the mind are not inherently existent. Then we must recognize that our own awareness is equally devoid of inherent nature. Düdjom Lingpa explains the practice of open presence:
Do not follow after past thoughts, do not anticipate future thoughts, and do not fall under the influence of present thoughts. Rather, rest in meditative equipoise in the nature of spontaneously settled, great clear light. You must recognize that there is nothing else for you to meditate on. . . . In general, the minds of sentient beings are an expanse of emptiness and luminosity, in which all kinds of thoughts can arise. So as you let your mind illuminate them like a candle, the appearances of various thoughts emerge from the domain of afflictive cognition, like sparks emerging from fire. When waves emerge from water, even though the water and the waves appear to be separate, they are of one taste in the nature of water, without one being worse or better than the other. Likewise, from the very moment that thoughts arise, the ground of their arising is the absolute space of ultimate reality; and the thoughts and the one to whom they appear are not really different but are rather of the same taste. You must know how this is so.14
Düdjom Lingpa describes four aspects in the practice of open presence. First, the view of open presence transcends intellectual grasping onto signs, does not succumb to conceptual biases or extremes, and realizes unconditioned reality, which is like space. Second, in the meditation of open presence, one perceives everything that arises as being none other than the absolute space of phenomena. In this ultimate reality, there are no dualities of samsara or nirvana, no joy or sorrow, and so forth, for one realizes that everything dissolves into even pervasiveness as displays of the luminosity of pristine awareness. Third, the pristine awareness of open presence transcends time, without wavering even for an instant from the nature of its own great luminosity. Finally, Düdjom Lingpa explains the appearances and mind of open presence:
All appearing phenomena are seen to be naturally empty and luminous. They are not apprehended by the intellect, nor grasped by the ordinary mind, nor subdued by awareness. Rather, they dissolve into great, even pervasiveness, so they are liberated, with no basis for acceptance or rejection, no distinction between luminosity and emptiness, and with no ambivalence.15
In this way, one rests naturally in pristine awareness.
The way to this fruitional state of Dzogchen practice is first to rely upon the guidance of a qualified spiritual mentor and acquire sound understanding by listening to his or her instructions. Then, as one carefully investigates and analyzes the teachings, fresh experiences arise in the mind stream, and realization is achieved by way of the wisdom gained through reflection. Finally, one devotes oneself to meditation until unshakable confidence arises. This is the role of continuous practice, supported by shamatha. Liberation is not gained simply by acquiring intellectual knowledge and fleeting glimpses of emptiness and pristine awareness. Rather, there must come a time when one retreats into solitude and devotes oneself to sustained, single-pointed meditation. Düdjom Lingpa explains: “Once one has given up all kinds of activities, gaining confidence within oneself as a result of the power of the wisdom of meditation is like darkness being banished once dawn has broken. When there is no fragmentation of the panoramic sweep of pristine awareness, confidence is gained within one’s own awareness.”16
Düdjom Lingpa declares that even such confidence, by itself, will not bring one to enlightenment. One must continue practicing until all appearances have transformed into the nature of ultimate reality, the root of cyclic existence is cut, dualistic fixations are immediately released, and appearances of self and others dissolve into the absolute space of phenomena. Then grasping onto attachments and aversions, hopes and fears, is vanquished, ignorance is dispelled in the ground of being, and one experiences the vision of ultimate reality. By cutting the root of self-grasping, the grasping mind is extinguished. With the extinction of dualistic concepts, one expands into the purity and equality of samsara and nirvana. This is the culmination of the path of the Great Perfection.