Jamgön Kongtrül of Shechen; Photo by Chögyam Trungpa
When I was older, I would make up lists of questions to ask him during our interviews, but as soon as I would look at the list, the questions seemed completely absurd and made no sense at all. Toward the end of my stay with Jamgön Kongtrül, he would usually check on how my studies with Khenpo Gangshar were going: how much I understood in terms of scholarship, philosophy, and facts and figures, and what I understood on the intuitive level.
Later I began to take fewer notes but wrote some six-syllable poetry which I would give to him when I visited him, which he carefully corrected. Later I would just scribble something down and there were fewer corrections. I thought that he was getting bored with all my poems, but actually he read them all. He said: “If you write with an intention, it doesn’t work. You have to write without intention.” We had a three-hour session together in which he would write one line and I would write the next line. When he read through the three pages we had written, it sounded like his own writing, not mine. This was not particularly helpful to me as it was too much of an ego-boost. I began to write a lot of poetry, writing formal poems instead of letters. I felt that I was becoming too literate, too good at mimicking, but Jamgön Kongtrül did no discourage me. He began to introduce me to great poets or scholars who visited him and I would be asked to write a poem on the spot, which made me feel that I was somewhat of a show-piece. At that time I began to write dohas and various short sadhanas. I slowly developed a sense of vajra pride in expressing myself, that in essence everything was okay and that Jamgön Kongtrül’s approval was not the main point. One particular sadhana that I wrote, he said, influenced him so much that he was till high on it the next day, a remark which I was uncertain whether it was sarcastic or real.
Now Jamgön Kongtrül began to generate moments of black cloud permeating the atmosphere, particularly after he had witnessed a logical debate in the seminary at which I was a brilliant student, a young smart kid overcoming everybody’s arguments. I expected some sort of reward when I later walked into Jamgön Kongtrül’s room, but it was dark. I could just make out his silhouette and hear the crack of his mala beads. I sat down. Nothing happened. He said nothing for about forty-five minutes. His attendants brought in his food and tea, and I could hear the crack of his jaws in their sockets as he chewed his meat, a very threatening sound. The situation became very intense. Before I left, he spoke a few words: “Watch your step. You could become a brilliant logician. But there is no warfare happening in this country and there is no such job for that sort of person. Think about it.” After that, I began to work more on the experiential rather than on the purely logical level of the abhidharma and Madhyamaka.
Immediately after that for a period of about fifteen days, Jamgön Kongtrül was particularly critical, and everyone was very frightened of him. The atmosphere was a black cloud. He beat the abbot of Sechen with his solid bamboo walking stick and kicked him. His cook and his old tutor were very frightened. In those days I used to exercise by walking towards and away from his house. I could feel the change in the atmosphere, like a change in temperature.
At the end of the summer, Jamgön Kongtrül decided to take all the young tulkus and young scholars on a vacation, and he told the tutors that they were not allowed to come. We collected whatever people could contribute—a pound of butter, a bag of rice, a brick of tea, or a leg of lamb—and we camped in a tent in a big field beyond Sechen monastery at the junction of two rivers. We played all kinds of games and had a big feast. Everyone felt free because there was nobody watching. Jamgön Kongtrül himself completely changed his personality so that one forgot what had happened in the previous several weeks. This was a most powerful experience for me. To be without a watcher, your tutor or your own watcher, was an enormously powerful and delightful experience. You get a better sleep and wake up with delight.
In the relationship with my guru, it became very obvious that the world is extraordinary clear and precise, not purely speculative, but having soft edges, a real world that happens. And a lineage holder—a complete, thorough, one hundred percent lineage holder—manifests a world of a particular nature, which becomes very evident. Within that world there is a general sense of sanity where one’s neurosis is workable.