“We do not have to be the victims of changing fashion – we can be simple in our approach – and fail to be impressed by the glamour of specialness and its demands for sycophancy. Let us have pride in our vajra cynicism and vajra naïveté, and let us be prepared to be ordinary.”

It is fashionable—in certain intellectual circles—to be cynical. It is fashionable amongst certain circles of cultic religious devotees, to be naïve. It is not fashionable—and never will be—to occupy neither camp. That is to say: to occupy neither camp as a reference point for one’s identity. If one wishes to impress people with one’s intellectual brilliance one opts for cynicism. If one wishes to impress people with the depth of one’s spirituality one opts for naïveté. If one has no desire to impress anyone, one discards such fashionable reference points, one approaches life with openness – but openness is a risk as one could make mistakes. One could be taken in, fooled, duped, hoodwinked, conned, deceived, or swindled. So a degree of ‘knowse’ is required. ‘Knowse’ is a word from the North of England and means not to be gullible or credulous. Knowse could be somewhat ‘streetwise’ – but knowse does not require information. Knowse is not cynicism – but it is a quality of perception which accepts the world as it is and sees the patterns by which people manipulate. To have knowse one has to be as willing to hear bad news as good news. Knowse is neither naïve or cynical.

It is useful to understand that ‘wearing cynicism’ or ‘wearing naïveté’ is no different from wearing whatever clothing fashion demands – according to the circle according to whom one wishes either to be accepted or feel superior. It is the same with political opinion. The espousal of a political opinion is often little different from donning dress that makes a statement – according to the prevailing sartorial legislation.

‘Tibetan Buddhism’ has been fashionable for over two decades – but its time as a fashion will wane – and then only those who are genuinely involved will remain involved. That Tibetan Buddhism has been fashionable is not an accusation with regard to Tibetan Buddhism – but an accusation with regard to the way of the world and the ‘worldly dharmas’. Fashions always wax and wane – so Tibetan Buddhism will cease to be fashionable at some point and the Dalai Lama will cease to occupy major space at Barnes & Noble. The fact that fashions have limited life span is no reflection on whether people, ideas, or objects are worthy of interest or not. When I first came to the USA at the invitation of Sun Bear, I stayed in various run-down Hindu Ashrams with which Sun Bear had contact. These Ashrams were once Catskill holiday resorts – but the fashion for attending them waned, and they were bought up by various Hindu-oriented groups. In 1989 these Ashrams were suffering from lessening public interest, and the evidence was there in the fact that substantial maintenance work was left undone and the properties were deteriorating. There was a time when Hinduism was fashionable in the USA but its day had more or less passed. Some serious interest naturally remains – but the followers are few in number and their resources are stretched too thinly with regard to maintaining centres. The fact that Tibetan Centres have burgeoned and seem in good repair is not a statement that Tibetan Buddhism has superseded Hinduism due to some inherent superiority. It is merely the fact of changing fashions. If you find this hard to believe – just wait ten years, and you may see the lovely colourful Tibetan Centres with their flaking paintwork and other problems which stem for lack of maintenance. I do not wish for this. I merely foresee it – based on previous history and what that previous history has revealed. Fashion is a fickle advocate of anything. I also foresee the survival of serious interest amongst groups of people who have made authentic connection to Lamas and lineages.

Khandro Déchen and I saw the same fashion phenomenon in Britain with the Theosophical Society. We saw the Theosophical Society sell up and move to smaller houses – then we saw the smaller houses fall into disrepair. Having been invited to talk at Theosophical Society meeting houses, we saw this and we saw the people attending Theosophical meetings getting older. This is what happens. This is not cynicism – this is simply an observation of what happens in the world.

This is not a reflection of the serious interest of the smaller numbers who remain with whatever teaching they began to follow when the religion was fashionable. There are always serious people who remain – but they are not supported by freshly painted environments. They have to be able to ride the decline of the externals without losing heart. Only serious people are capable of seeing their religion wane in the public eye. When we look at the situation of our own students, we are therefore most encouraged. We have few external supports and an aging sangha – yet students remain enthusiastic. We are glad to say that there are still apprentices arriving and some are still in their 20s. This is a good sign – as it will be for other Lamas who have serious committed students.

The only spiritual contexts which will survive the falling away of fashion will be those which centre themselves on vajra cynicism and vajra naïveté – rather than on the materialism of spiritual fashion. We have yet to see what will remain of Tibetan Buddhism in the West once the book sales fall away and other subjects replace Tibetan Buddhism at Barnes & Noble. We do not have to be the victims of changing fashion, however – we can be simple in our approach – and fail to be impressed by the glamour of specialness and its demands for sycophancy. Let us have pride in our vajra cynicism and vajra naïveté, and let us be prepared to be ordinary.

Let us hope that when: the bookshops are eventually empty of Tibetan Buddhism; when the unquestioned popularity of all things Tibetan has merged into the background along with Egyptology; when singing bowls once more contain fruit and nuts; when the chants of the Gyütö monks are heard once again – in Gyütö rather than at fashionable dinner parties; when the Kalachakra mandala has ceased to be constructed as a side-show for nihilist audiences; when Tibetan folk dance is once again performed by folk—for other folk—rather than on stage.

Let us hope that whenever that day dawns, we will still be practising in a simple way – because that is simply what we are. We may even be non-cognisant of the fact that we have become part of the landscape.