Q: What about dance and theater?
A: It is the same thing. The trouble is, if you become too self-conscious in creating a work of art, then it ceases to be a work of art. When masters of art are completely absorbed in their work, they produce masterpieces, not because they are aware of their teachers, but because they become completely absorbed in the work. They do not question, they just do it. They produce the right thing quite accidentally.
Q: How is the fear or paranoia that interferes with spontaneity transmuted into action?
A: There are no special tricks involved in overcoming this and overcoming that in order to achieve a certain state of being. It is a question of leaping. When a person actually understands that he is in a state of paranoia, then that implies an underlying deep subconscious understanding of the other side, some feeling of the other aspect of it in his mind. Then he has to really take the leap. How to take the leap is very difficult to explain in words; one simply has to do it. It is rather like suddenly being pushed overboard into a river and discovering that you can swim; you just swim across the river. However, if you were to go back to the river and attempt to practice, you probably would not be able to swim at all. It is a question of spontaneity, of using the current intelligence. One cannot explain taking the leap in words; it is beyond words. But it is something that you will be able to do if you really are willing to do it, if you put yourself in the situation to leap and somehow surrender.
Q: If you are frightened and have a strong reaction to the fear, you are aware of the reaction but don’t want to get lost in it, you want to remain conscious. How do you do it?
A: It is a question of first acknowledging that such energy is there, which is the energy to leap, as well. In other words, instead of running away from fear, one must become completely involved in it and begin to feel the rough and rugged quality of the emotion.
Q: Become a warrior?
A: Yes. At the beginning one might be satisfied with seeing the absurdity of the emotion, which would disperse it. But this is still not enough to effect the transmutation principle of Vajrayana. One must see the “form is form” quality of the emotions. Once you are able to look at the emotions properly, from the point of view of “form is form, emotion is emotion,” without your preconceptions attached, once you see the naked quality of the emotions as they are, then you are ready to leap. It does not need much effort. You are already delivered to the leap, so to speak. This does not mean of course that, if you are angry, you go out and commit murder.
Q: In other words, see the emotion as it is instead of involving yourself in a scattered, penetrating reaction to a situation.
A: Yes. You see, we do not actually see emotion properly, although we are completely filled with it. If we follow our emotions and escape them by doing something, that is not experiencing them properly. We try to escape or repress our emotions because we cannot bear to be in such a state. But the Vajrayana speaks of looking properly, directly at the emotion and feeling it, its naked quality. You do not actually have to transmute. In fact, you see the already transmuted quality in the emotions: “form is form.” It is very subtle and quite dangerous to just throw about.
Q: How does Milarepa’s life fit into the pattern of Tantra? He does not seem to practice transmutation, but rather, renunciation.
A: Of course, in his life-style Milarepa is a classic example of the yogi-renunciate tradition. But usually, when we think of a renunciate, we think of someone who is trying to escape the “evil” of the “worldly” life. This is not the case with Milarepa at all. He was not trying to suppress his “evil” inclinations by meditating alone in the wilderness. He did not lock himself into retreat. He was not trying to punish himself. His asceticism was simply an expression of his character, just as each of our life-styles is an expression of who we are, determined by our psychologies and past histories. Milarepa wanted to be simple and he led a very simple life.
Certainly there is a tendency on the part of people following a religious path to become other-worldly for awhile, and Milarepa was no exception. But people can do this in the middle of a city. Wealthy people can spend a great deal of money going on a religious “trip.” But sooner or later, if a person is going to really connect with the teachings, there must be a return to the world. When Milarepa was meditating in retreat, living very austerely, some hunters appeared by chance and gave him some fresh venison. He ate it and his meditation improved immediately. And later on, when he was hesitating to come down to the cities, some villagers appeared at his cave asking for teachings. He was continually being drawn out of isolation by the seemingly accidental play of life-situations, which one could say is the play of the guru, the universality of guru, which always presents itself to us naturally. We may be sitting in meditation in our New York apartment, feeling very “high” and euphoric, very “spiritual.” But then we get up and walk into the streets and someone steps on our toe and we have to deal with that. It brings us down to earth, back to the world.
Milarepa was tremendously involved with the process of transmutation of energies and emotions. In fact, when we read The Hundred Thousand Songs of Milarepa, the whole first part of the book is dealing with Milarepa’s experience of this process. In “The Tale of Red Rock Jewel Valley” Milarepa had only recently left Marpa to go off and meditate alone. This might be called his “adolescent stage,” because he was still involved with reliance upon a personal guru. Marpa was still his “daddy.” Having opened and surrendered to Marpa, Milarepa still had to learn to transmute the emotions. He was still clinging to the notions of “good” and “bad,” and so the world was still appearing to him in the guise of gods and demons.
In “The Tale of Red Rock Jewel Valley,” when Milarepa went back into his cave after having a comforting vision of Marpa, he was confronted with a gang of demons. He tried every way he could think of to get rid of them, all kinds of tactics. He threatened them, cajoled them, he even preached the Dharma to them. But they would not leave until he ceased regarding them as “bad” and opened to them, saw them as they were. This was the beginning of Milarepa’s period of learning how to subjugate the demons, which is the same thing as transmuting the emotions. It is with our emotions that we create demons and gods: those things which we don’t want in our lives and world are the demons; those things which we would draw to us are the gods and goddesses. The rest is just scenery.
By being willing to accept the demons and gods and goddesses as they are, Milarepa transmuted them. They became dakinis, or the energies of life. The whole first part of The Hundred Thousand Songs deals with Milarepa’s mastery of transmutation, his growing ability to open to the world as it is, until he finally conquered all the demons in the chapter “The Goddess Tserinma’s Attack.” In this chapter thousands of demons assemble to terrify and attack Milarepa while he is meditating, but he preaches to them, is open and accepting, willing to offer them his whole being, and they are subjugated. At one point five demonesses, beginning to realize that they cannot frighten Milarepa, sing to him,