Spontaneity and Discipline in the Sangha

...to merge mirth and meaningfulness,
frivolity and fierce commitment,
revelry and rigpa.

Dorje gendün—indestructible association—means the community of practitioners who are linked by damtsig to a particular teacher. According to Sutrayana the word Sangha or gendün (dGe ’dun) usually refers to the community of monks or nuns, but according to Vajrayana, this word refers to all practitioners. In this context, we would like to discuss the qualities of the kyil’khor (mandala) that we have established in Aro. This is an important consideration, and one for which we are all responsible.

We are happy that you are all real people—intelligent, witty, humorous, and kindly people who seem to be lacking in the peevish, sanctimonious, elitist, narrow-minded piety that we have encountered so often amongst Western Buddhists. We are glad that you have a sense of humour. It is a great relief to overhear apprentices in conversation—shifting from humorous banter to some aspect of practice and back again without trivialising the nature of the practice. This is important, but it is a subtle balance.

If apprentices do not have a sense of humour, irony, healthy cynicism, chutzpah, and lack of preciousness, it is impossible for us to work with them. Humour is utterly vital. Without this basis, real reverence is not possible. Without this basis, devotion cannot be trusted. Without this basis commitment cannot arise.

We would like you to look at the balance of discipline and looseness in apprenticeship, and what your relationship to that balance means—in real terms. It would be wonderful if we could all simply be spontaneous, but that is not so easy. Spontaneity does not mean that we become mentally, verbally, and physically incontinent, frantic, or torpid. It has nothing to do with running amok according to our ingrained habit patterns. Spontaneity means that we have looseness and discipline in balance. It may seem that to be loose (whatever we might mean by that) is in some way more appealing, but this would be something of a miscalculation. Looseness is not even approachable without discipline. It is also true that discipline is not approachable without looseness, but we think that problem is one that is somewhat easier to tackle.

If there is excessive discipline, there is great energy. You might call that tension, or you might call it nervousness. You might call that anxiety, or you might call it fear. You might certainly feel that it is not at all what you want from a spiritual path. In some ways you might be right—few would want such a spiritual path, and those who did might be in some way suspected. We have no desire to recruit sado-masochists. If there is excessive looseness, there is no energy. You might call that ‘relaxation’, or you might call it ‘fun’. You might also call it ‘naturalness’, or you might call it ‘friendliness’. You might feel that this is exactly what you want from a spiritual path. Perhaps in some ways you might be right. There is certainly nothing un-spiritual about having fun, being relaxed, or being natural—but as Dung-sé Thrin-lé Norbu Rinpoche said, ‘A pig is also natural.’

We would like to emphasise the ethos of ‘work hard—play hard’, especially on apprentice retreats. It is hard to strike a balance between an unspoken discipline conducive to practice and a spontaneous frivolity and exuberance of communication that is the natural electricity of our being together. It is important to us that the social interactions we have with apprentices are experienced as events where the teaching is infused with the flow of revelry. Our strong wish has always been for this to be possible—to merge mirth and meaningfulness, frivolity and fierce commitment, revelry and rigpa. You need to take your apprenticeship as a practice. To take your apprenticeship as a practice means to be alive in the teaching situation as it is happening.