The Intersection of Shambhala and Japan
I've lately been contemplating the powerful influence that the Japanese culture had on the Druk Sakyong and the formation of many elements of Shambhala practice. Though Japan is but one of many contributors to the overall culture of Shambhala, it is in many ways the one that feels utterly "no problem" to me, utterly ordinary but in a sharp and I might say "sacred" way.
My primary connection to Buddhism has always overtly been Tantra. The promises of enlightenment in one lifetime, the achievement of selfless bliss, the powerful depictions of energetic dieties, and so on, were incredibly interesting to me as a young explorer, and for the most part remain so. However, when I look at my day-to-day experience -- sitting at this iMac, for instance -- those things have an air of remoteness, of foreignness, or of belonging to some non-ordinary dimension of my world and life. I don't imagine this is the case for everyone in Shambhala, and I'm quite sure that for Tibetans, these things are as ordinary as Mass is to a Catholic. To be sure, when I perform the actual practice, the magic of some of these upayas is immediately apparent, so I don't particularly think of them as irrelevant or as too different to be useful. No, its just that they are so imbued with incredibly RICH and INTENSE symbols and meanings from such a thoroughly different time and place that sometimes its quite hard to feel them as normal dimensions of my daily life. Protectors, dakinis, yidams, dons, etc., all are real enough in my opinion, only the way I relate to them can sometimes feel very distinct from what I would otherwise call my normal life.
With this in mind, I more and more appreciate the absolute brilliance of the Druk Sakyong's innovations and revelations. When I first went to a Shambhala Center (then Dharmadhatu) I was very much enamored with the Tibetan iconography and style and was captivated by things like thangkas and protector chants, and I was certainly not let down. However, something I perhaps didn't notice at the time, but appreciate more now, was that I felt utterly accommodated at the center, in the environment of the shrine room. Much of this had to do with the fact that Trungpa Rinpoche had adopted the best parts of Japanese culture as expressions of enlightened mind in daily life, and it seemed without cultural dissonance. Beautiful, striking ikebana arrangements, elegant hanging scrolls with paintings or calligraphy, the arrangement of the meditation cushions, and the straightforwardness of the shrine all combined created a harmony of sacredness and a sort of "wakeful ordinariness" that made a transition from "daily life" to "sacred life" easy and flowing with no shocking disconnect. By contrast, I think walking into a classical Tibetan mediation hall would be something like going to a museum, where everything stands out for awestruck examination, or like walking through a time portal to some magical ancient land of the past. It has its effect and power, no doubt, but I suspect its less suitable for bringing meditation-mind into my regular world.
Though Japanese culture is obviously also very different from our own, when enjoyed in the context of meditation practice the Japanese arts and forms are very suitable and easily adopted without cultural baggage. Much of the ability to do this was informed by Trungpa Rinpoche's teachings on things like Dharma Art and the adoption of styles he learned from his friend Suzuki Roshi. In a sense, for a Shambhalian, while "Japan fever" can easily strike, many of these forms (ikebana, shodo, chanting, shrine room conduct) have taken on a life of their own in our community. They're more likely seen now as Shambhala Arts rather than anything foreign. Nobody doesn't realize that they're Japanese in essence, only nobody really cares much where they're from. They are simply excellent ways to combine meditation-mind with space and human expression.
The Japanese, when they imported Buddhism, seemed to bring its basic wakefulness directly into their lives in many important ways, allowing their culture to be thoroughly soaked in appreciation of impermanence (and fleeting beauty), mindfulness, simplicity, and proper conduct. Worth learning from them, for sure.
My primary connection to Buddhism has always overtly been Tantra. The promises of enlightenment in one lifetime, the achievement of selfless bliss, the powerful depictions of energetic dieties, and so on, were incredibly interesting to me as a young explorer, and for the most part remain so. However, when I look at my day-to-day experience -- sitting at this iMac, for instance -- those things have an air of remoteness, of foreignness, or of belonging to some non-ordinary dimension of my world and life. I don't imagine this is the case for everyone in Shambhala, and I'm quite sure that for Tibetans, these things are as ordinary as Mass is to a Catholic. To be sure, when I perform the actual practice, the magic of some of these upayas is immediately apparent, so I don't particularly think of them as irrelevant or as too different to be useful. No, its just that they are so imbued with incredibly RICH and INTENSE symbols and meanings from such a thoroughly different time and place that sometimes its quite hard to feel them as normal dimensions of my daily life. Protectors, dakinis, yidams, dons, etc., all are real enough in my opinion, only the way I relate to them can sometimes feel very distinct from what I would otherwise call my normal life.
With this in mind, I more and more appreciate the absolute brilliance of the Druk Sakyong's innovations and revelations. When I first went to a Shambhala Center (then Dharmadhatu) I was very much enamored with the Tibetan iconography and style and was captivated by things like thangkas and protector chants, and I was certainly not let down. However, something I perhaps didn't notice at the time, but appreciate more now, was that I felt utterly accommodated at the center, in the environment of the shrine room. Much of this had to do with the fact that Trungpa Rinpoche had adopted the best parts of Japanese culture as expressions of enlightened mind in daily life, and it seemed without cultural dissonance. Beautiful, striking ikebana arrangements, elegant hanging scrolls with paintings or calligraphy, the arrangement of the meditation cushions, and the straightforwardness of the shrine all combined created a harmony of sacredness and a sort of "wakeful ordinariness" that made a transition from "daily life" to "sacred life" easy and flowing with no shocking disconnect. By contrast, I think walking into a classical Tibetan mediation hall would be something like going to a museum, where everything stands out for awestruck examination, or like walking through a time portal to some magical ancient land of the past. It has its effect and power, no doubt, but I suspect its less suitable for bringing meditation-mind into my regular world.
Though Japanese culture is obviously also very different from our own, when enjoyed in the context of meditation practice the Japanese arts and forms are very suitable and easily adopted without cultural baggage. Much of the ability to do this was informed by Trungpa Rinpoche's teachings on things like Dharma Art and the adoption of styles he learned from his friend Suzuki Roshi. In a sense, for a Shambhalian, while "Japan fever" can easily strike, many of these forms (ikebana, shodo, chanting, shrine room conduct) have taken on a life of their own in our community. They're more likely seen now as Shambhala Arts rather than anything foreign. Nobody doesn't realize that they're Japanese in essence, only nobody really cares much where they're from. They are simply excellent ways to combine meditation-mind with space and human expression.
The Japanese, when they imported Buddhism, seemed to bring its basic wakefulness directly into their lives in many important ways, allowing their culture to be thoroughly soaked in appreciation of impermanence (and fleeting beauty), mindfulness, simplicity, and proper conduct. Worth learning from them, for sure.