Trungpa

Any casual student of Buddhism sooner or later would encounter the name Chogyam Trungpa, a Tibetan Buddhist exiled monk who was quite a controversial figure. He renounced his vows, married a rebellious 16-year-old upper class English girl, slept around prior and after his marriage, and was very fond of drinking. He died at the tender age of 48, yet he accomplished much. He wrote a few books (I read one of his books, called Shambhala: Sacred Path of the Warrior. The impression I got from the book was that the author's English was simple and unlyrical, his thoughts profound and attitude flamboyant and arrogant). He founded Naropa, the first Buddhist-inspired university in North America. He also established meditation centers in the United States, Canada, and Europe.

I am reading his wife's account of her marriage to this self-conflicting Buddhist monk. It appears to me, so far, that this gregarious monk related to people via his penis and his heart. Upon encountering the account of his life, I could not help but notice that I seem to relate to people and the world through my heart only. I crave for love and respect, not casual sex under whatever guide. Still, reading about Trungpa made me realize nobody is perfect and that I should take in qualities from those I am find appealing and inspirational, and ignored the rest.

Trungpa's self-designated mission was to bring Buddhist Dharma to the West. To this aim he was successful. His name will go down in history as one of the Tibetan lamas who introduced Tibetan Buddhism to the West. He succeeded because he was warm-hearted, engaging, and gave full attention to whoever happened to talk with him. His journey was fraught with economic hardships and challenges because of his denunciation of his monastic vows (he married a 16-year-old English girl), his heavy drinking, his gluttony (he loved to eat, especially meat), his suicidal thoughts, and even his gambling. In other words, he violated the basic tenet of Buddhism of not having attachment. Yet, in spite of all these serious defects of character, he succeeded at what he set out to do. His students adored him because his teachings were authentic (he was well trained by his teachers) and because he really cared about his students. In return they financially supported him when he and his family first came to America. Later, with his books and popularity of his lectures and workshops and successful launching of a Buddhist-inspired university, he had a comfortable life.

I remember looking at his photo on the back cover of his book Shambhala: Sacred Path of the Warrior, and I told myself that the man didn't look like a monk full of serenity and wisdom, but a man of smug arrogance and intelligence, and I've got to know more about this man. Some men are just like dynamites, useful, highly interesting and unusual, and dangerous at the same time. Some lesser men of quirks are mini and pathetic versions of men like Trungpa. Their idiosyncratic and defiant behavior is merely a sad attempt to assert their worth and their place in the sun. Sadly, I could be one of these lesser men.