The big investment

A few years ago, a friend of mine was ready, along with his wife, to retire. They had invested their life savings, the work of 20 years, to fund their golden years. Unfortunately, it was with a man named Madoff. In a single moment they lost it all to this con artist and it was never recovered. What has this to do with the Dharma, mantra recitation, deity visualization, mahamudra, Dzogchen, or glimpsing the luminosity of ultimate mind? Just like that retirement fund, the Dharma requires a tremendous investment, not only of money but of precious time, effort, thought, dedication, and even sacrifice. So the question becomes, where are we really putting all this energy? Because it is not guaranteed that it will go where it actually belongs, where it can really do us some good.

Flashback to 1982, when I was first contemplating entry into a three-year Vajrayana retreat, I had wrangled the position of a driver for my teacher, the Venerable Kalu Rinpoche. Touring New York, Boston, and points between, it helped that I had purchased a black Citroen that Rinpoche would have been familiar with from his extended time in France. One day, while giving a French student a ride, I asked when he planned on undertaking a retreat, since at that time this was the logical path for Kalu Rinpoche’s students. In broken English, he spoke words that still ring in my ear: “Well, I’m not very impress with the result.”

Indeed, I have known individuals who have done six-year retreats, and Eastern lamas who have done a cumulative 20 years in caves and isolated huts, and who were variously arrogant, self-important, self-centered, vindictive, or manipulative. There are cases of people who have abandoned the Dharma altogether after a three-year retreat, while others have committed suicide. As is public knowledge—and my unfortunate personal experience—a rare few seasoned Tibetan meditators have been sexual predators or out and out thieves, even black magicians.

Yet the same teachings and practices have clearly helped transform Western Dharma students and Eastern teachers into their best selves, beacons of compassion, integrity, inner strength, and impartiality. Meditation and mindfulness can save minds, save lives, and eradicate negativity and suffering. But there are also modern mindfulness masters who are self-satisfied, arrogant, and engage in “virtue signaling” rather than actual virtue. So what gives? How can the very same Dharma produce such different results in different hands or minds? We can just shrug it off as individual differences, or karma, or pre-existing mental pathology. But there may be a more precise issue that we can put our finger on and perhaps do something about.

Unraveling a mystery

It comes back to where we invest, or “who” we are investing in; what part of us is receiving the Dharma, what part of us is penetrated by the ideas, practices, and experiences that encompass the path of Buddhism. To answer that question requires a dip into psychology, that vast repository of thinking on the nature of our relative self—not just our ultimate nature. This opens up to a much bigger issue, one central to psychology and spirituality alike, and why, in a sense, our entire culture has made a “bad investment” and continues to do so. It simply invests in the wrong self. But so can Buddhists, because both have overlooked the “missing self.” In many ways, the whole problem of humanity is a case of mistaken identity!

Back in 1982, John Welwood, a psychologist and student of Chogam Trungpa noticed a phenomenon he termed spiritual bypassing, which he defined as “using spiritual ideas and practices to sidestep or avoid facing unresolved emotional issues, psychological wounds, and unfinished developmental tasks.” This could take the form of self-inflation or deflation, specialness or self-blame. He noted, rightly, that there are two lines of human development: becoming a genuine human person versus going beyond the person altogether. Theoretically, these parallel lines of development may come to a single point on some event horizon. But staying a dysfunctional person for untold lifetimes does not seem to accelerate that theoretical convergence.

Centuries before Welwood used this term, the old Zen masters of Japan used the term “the stink of Zen” to describe those who developed a persona of specialness while taking on the external trappings and activities of a monk, but without any internal shift. Seon Roshi and others used this term freely with their Western students as clearly this problem is endemic to spiritual training. Welwood even goes so far as to call it an “occupational hazard” of meditation.

But we are still left with an unanswered question about what it means to fix oneself on a psychological level so that we can progress on a spiritual level. The growing field of Buddhist psychology may offer some solutions. But there may be an even more direct and elegant answer from an unexpected source.