How to Study the Buddhist Teachings with a Spiritual Mentor

The Buddha has said in the Special Verses Grouped by Topic (Ched-du brjod-pa’i tshoms, Skt. Udānavarga, “The Tibetan Dhammapada”) (XXII.6):

By listening (to the Dharma), you will come to know what measures (to take in life); by listening, you will come to turn away from negative actions. By listening, you will get rid of what is meaningless; by listening, you will attain nirvana.

The first benefit is that we will learn all the essential points about which behavior and thoughts are to be adopted or abandoned in order to maximize our own and others’ happiness. Such discriminating awareness allows us to know the measures to take in life. By learning about The Basket of Rules of Discipline (Dul-ba’i sde-snod, Skt. Vinayapiṭaka), we will turn away from destructive actions through training in higher ethical self-discipline. From The Basket of Sutras (mDo-sde’i sde-snod, Skt. Sūtrapiṭaka), we will learn the training in higher absorbed concentration whereby we rid ourselves of such meaningless activities as mental wandering. Furthermore, by studying The Basket of Abhidharma (mNgon-pa’i sde-snod, Skt. Abhidharmapiṭaka), we will attain liberation from all suffering by eliminating our disturbing emotions and attitudes and our impulsive behavior through the training in higher discriminating awareness.

Aryashura (sLob-dpon dPa’-bo) (2nd century) has listed additional benefits in A Rosary of Previous Life Accounts (sKyes-rabs ’phreng-ba, Skt. Jātakamālā) (XXX.32–33):

Listening (to the Dharma) is the lamp to eliminate the darkness of closed-mindedness. It is the best wealth, which cannot be carried away by thieves. It is the weapon for vanquishing the foe, which is total bewilderment. It is the best of friends since it shows you guideline methods and means. It is a relative, who will not be fickle even if you become destitute. It is medicine for diseases and pain, but one that does not harm you. It is the best host to defeat the hordes of great faults. It is even what is best for fame, glory and wealth. It (makes you) the best gentleman or lady when you meet the refined and makes you respected by the wise when in their midst.

External darkness can be eliminated by the sun, a torch and so forth, but internal darkness does not go away by shining a candle into our mouth. Listening to and studying the Dharma, however, is like gaining a bright light within to be able to see what is right and wrong. 

As Dagpo Jampel Lhundrub has said,

By learning one syllable of a fact about life, you eliminate the darkness of your unawareness concerning that area and gain the light of awareness of how to handle one situation. If you learn thirty facts about life, you eliminate your unawareness of thirty areas and gain the light of knowing how to handle thirty situations.

However, if we never study the Dharma, then, as Pabongka has explained, we are like a blindfolded person in a room filled with both useful and dangerous objects, unable to differentiate and find what we need.

Bandits can plunder whatever material wealth we have amassed, but no one can steal the learning and wisdom we have acquired. This is especially so if we have not merely accumulated a store of dry intellectual facts but have digested and integrated what we have heard. This we do by pondering its meaning and, when we have understood, then meditating on it to build it up as a habit of the mind. Even if we are taken from our home in the middle of the night and thrown into prison in solitary confinement for the rest of our life, we will still have all our learning with us upon which to gain ever-deepening insight. On the other hand, to do a meditational retreat, for instance, without any previous study of the subject matter or the measures to take, is like putting ourselves empty-handed in a jail. We will soon become totally bored and frustrated, and likely to go slightly mad. 

Therefore, according to The Enlightening Biography of Jetsun Milarepa (rNal-’byor-gyi dbang-phyug dam-pa rje-btsun Mi-la ras-pa’i rnam-thar thar-pa-dang thams-cad mkhyen-pa’i lam-ston) by Tsangnyon Heruka (gTsang-smyon He-ru-ka) (1452–1507), Milarepa has warned (128.b3):

If you have no profound guideline instructions to meditate upon but renounce all activity (and go to the top of a mountain and sit in retreat), it is only self-torture.

Kyabje Trijang Rinpoche has likewise said:

If the top student in a class goes off to retreat for a year and a mediocre one stays behind and studies, when the former returns their positions will be reversed.

Thus, it is important not to break the continuity of our studies. Intensive retreats are more effective when undertaken after we have finished our major training. 

As Dza Patrul has said:

To do retreats when young and study when old is rather a joke!

The results of such folly are as Pabongka has described:

We do retreats for a long time but never wear down any of our disturbing emotions or delusions. The only things we succeed in wearing away are our fingernails and prayer beads!

We must never be satisfied with only two or three years of study and training. Among the Tibetans, the learned masters with advanced monastic degrees such as geshe study for twenty-five or thirty years and still do not feel they know anything. As Longchenpa has warned:

Those with little learning wander astray.

If those arya bodhisattvas who have achieved a third-level bhumi mind still need the force of listening further to the Dharma, what need to mention ourselves? 

Most human beings cannot use their full capacity because of their closed-mindedness and total bewilderment. Learning and studying are the best weapons to cut through this mental swamp and open our minds. They are our best friends and most reliable relatives in times of need, who will not let us down or desert us. 

Yeshe Gyaltsen (Yongs-’dzin dKa’-chen Ye-shes rgyal-mtshan) (1713–1793) was very poor in his youth but had the strong wish to study the Dharma. When he asked his relatives to help support his endeavors, they scolded him and gave him nothing. He never became discouraged and finally through all his own efforts he became the tutor of the Eighth Dalai Lama (rGyal-dbang ’Jam-dpal rgya-mtsho) (1758–1804). Once he was famous, a wide array of people turned up at his door claiming to be his long-lost aunt or uncle. He never turned any away, but acceptingly said, “Yes, you are my relatives.” One day he invited them all for a meal at his home, and when everyone was gathered, he asked his attendant to bring in a pile of silver wrapped in a cloth. Laying this out on the table, he proceeded to prostrate before it, saying, “I bow to you who gave me all these aunts and uncles I never had before.” 

A wealth of hearing about the Dharma is like a strong medicine to prevent and cure all poisonous attitudes and problems, and one that leaves no detrimental side effects. If we had leprosy, we would not expect to be cured by one dose of medicine. Likewise, we should not feel satisfied with having studied a subject or text but once.

Chandragomin (bTsun-pa zla-ba) (7th century) has said in Praises to the Open Admission of Wrongs (bShags-pa’i bstod-pa, Skt. Deśanāstava): 

Our minds are constantly confused; we have been ill for a very long time. What is achieved by the lepers who have lost their arms and legs and occasionally take medicine?

Attachment, hostility and closed-mindedness are so deeply rooted within our minds that we should use every opportunity to hear further about the measures to take in order to prevent their recurrence. Even if we have studied the graded stages of the path numerous times, we can always learn something new or understand a subject deeper by listening to yet another explanation. As Kyabje Trijang Rinpoche once said:

I have read A Grand Presentation of the Graded Stages of the Path over a hundred times, and each time it is like reading a different text.

It can be especially useful to hear several different spiritual masters expound on the same topic or text. In such situations, however, we should not be concerned with testing or grading these teachers on what they do or do not say, as if keeping a scorecard or buying a horse. Rather, by hearing explanations from slightly different points of view, our breadth and depth of understanding will expand as we see how the teachings leave room for various levels of interpretation and application. Thus, hearing or learning is the best force to help us overcome our faults. 

If we are learned and have heard a great deal about the Dharma, this is the best foundation for establishing our fame and reputation. Furthermore, our knowledge and experience are the best gifts we can give to others. They make us a refined person and please the wise. They allow us to speak in an educated crowd without making a fool of ourselves and also enable us to answer intelligently and clearly any questions we are put. Otherwise, as Dharmarakshita has described in Wheel of Sharp Weapons (Blo-sbyong mtshon-cha’i ’khor-lo) (84):

Since our listening (to teachings) is negligible, we must scratch around and guess about everything. Since the extent of our scriptural knowledge is tiny, we generate distorted views about all. 

Sakya Pandita has also described such a person in A Precious Treasury of Elegant Sayings (III.11):

Someone who is gregarious and takes the stage among fools but when in the presence of learned ones is tongue-tied and shies to the rear – although lacking a hump on the back and a fold of flesh hanging from the neck, is simply an ox but with upper front teeth.

Therefore, thinking about the benefits of listening to the Dharma, we should enthusiastically engage in its study. 

In short, as Kyabje Trijang Rinpoche has said:

One day of study with a spiritual mentor is a hundred times more valuable than a whole year of retreat repeating mantras. Although you might have cleansed yourselves of many negativities during that year and built up a network of positive force, you will not have learned anything new. However, with one day of Dharma teachings, even if you do not understand everything, still if you learn only one new preventive measure to take, that will have eliminated one portion of your unawareness concerning how to handle previously disturbing situations in life. This will have an immediate benefit and bring you one substantial step closer to Buddhahood.

To study the Dharma properly, not only must we be enthusiastic, we must also have respect for the subject matter and its teacher and treat them both with proper courtesy. Otherwise, we will not appreciate their value. Considering them ordinary, we will take them for granted. 

In the Kshitigarbha Sutra (Sa’i snying-po mdo, Skt. Kṣitigarbha Sūtra), it has been said:

You should listen to the Dharma with singular faith and respect, without ever scoffing at or deriding it. You should in fact make offerings to the one who imparts the Dharma to you. This will enhance your recognition that he or she is just like the clear evolved Buddha.

This is why we always make clean and tidy a proper room for receiving the teachings and arrange it with beautiful flowers and an elevated, comfortable seat for our spiritual mentor. We prepare the same as if we were welcoming Buddha Shakyamuni himself. Furthermore, we must not listen to the Dharma with intellectual pride, feeling that we have more worldly or scientific knowledge than our teacher. Rather, we should be ever humble and respectful.

In connection with this, there are six guidelines to follow when studying with a spiritual master:

• We must have regard for the proper time. When a high teacher is busy or preoccupied with other affairs, we never interrupt inconsiderately and arrogantly demand teachings. Once Geshe Potowa was busy putting back in order the loose-leaf pages of several of his texts, which had been blown all about and become jumbled together. A prospective disciple barged in on this scene and insisted on being taught right there and then. The master leaped up from his seat and chased him out with a stick.
• We pay respect, such as by rising when our spiritual mentor enters the room and prostrating three times before he or she teaches. We also prostrate three times after each lesson except the final one before taking leave for any lengthy amount of time. To make prostration before a departure is considered an inauspicious omen that we and our mentor will not meet again. By its omission we indicate our strong wish and prayer to join him once more as quickly as possible. 
• Furthermore, we always try to be of service to our mentor by providing him with drinking water or tea when he teaches or a fan if it is hot, a heater if it is cold, and so forth.
• We never become angry or defensive when our teacher points out our faults or corrects us.
• We always take to heart and practice what he says. 
• We never argue belligerently with our spiritual mentor if he says something that differs from our personal opinion. Nevertheless, we may debate with him to clarify our doubts.

In addition, Asanga has said in Bodhisattva Stages of Mind (Byang-chub sems-dpa’i sa, Skt. Bodhisattvabhūmi):

You should listen without being completely deluded and without the five improper considerations.

When we receive teachings, we should not be so deluded that we constantly belittle and criticize what we hear or the one who is speaking. Although we must use discriminating awareness to check a spiritual master and the measures he or she teaches before committing ourselves wholeheartedly to them, nevertheless, once we have decided to follow a course of instruction, this is no longer the time for haughty judgments. They will completely distract us and prevent us from learning anything. 

Therefore, always being polite and courteous, we should not pick faults in terms of five improper considerations (gnas-lngar yid-la mi-byed-pa): 

• Never judge that the teacher’s ethical self-discipline is weak, despite his or her outward behavior. 
• Do not consider him to be of a low social class, regardless of his origin. 
• Do not criticize him as being physically ugly or odd-looking, no matter what his appearance. 
• Do not become upset if he uses earthy language, feeling that he should be more sophisticated. 
• Never become offended if he speaks bluntly and to the point, thinking that he should be daintier and say only what is nice. 

Thus, with an open mind, a happy expression on our face – not a depressed look as if we were in a dentist chair – sitting humbly and respectfully, we should listen to the Dharma with alertness and joy as if drinking nectar. 

The most important factor for success in our studies is to approach them in a proper frame of mind. In addition to what has already been discussed, there are several specific faults to avoid and attitudes to cultivate.

Using a Vessel as an Example, Removing the Three Faults That Act as Counter-Conditions

In The Twenty-Five Thousand Verse Prajnaparamita Sutra (Shes-rab-kyi pha-rol-tu phyin-pa stong-phrag nyi-shu lnga-pa dum-bu dang-po, Skt. Pañcaviṃśati-sāhasrikā Prajñāpāramitā Sūtra), three faults have been explained:

• those of being like an upside-down vessel
• a dirty vessel
• a vessel with a hole in the bottom.

If a pot is upside-down, no matter how much pure nectar we pour on top of it, nothing will go in. Likewise, if our bodies are before our teacher but our minds are wandering off in the marketplace, we will not hear anything he or she says. It is as if we were not sitting there at all. Therefore, at a lesson or a discourse, we do not allow even a part of our attention to be distracted. Rather, we listen like a deer enchanted by a flute, unaware of any danger around it.

Even if a vessel is right-side-up, if it is dirty, it will pollute whatever is poured in it. Likewise, even if we are paying attention, our minds may be filled with preconceptions, prejudices or a wrong motivation for studying the Dharma. For instance, we might listen out of only intellectual curiosity or with the wish to gain from them power, money or fame, or for other selfish reasons. In such cases, we will be left with only a foul mess of contorted notions.

If we have many superstitions and preconceptions, they may cause a great deal of interference to our practice. One day Milarepa was sitting in a cave trying to meditate. The rock before him had a crack, and he began to worry that something horrible might come out of it. All of a sudden, there appeared a female ghost seated on a deer. She grabbed hold of Milarepa’s leg and said, “Why did you summon me with all your strange thoughts? If you had no superstitions, I would have not had to come.” Milarepa said, “Quite true, but now leave me alone. Because of your negative actions in the past, you have been born as a ghost. If you harm a sincere practitioner, you will fall to an even worse rebirth state. Leave me in peace, and I will help you gain a better future life.” He then gave her some preventive measures to take, and she went away.

Lastly, suppose the pot is both upright and clean. If, however, it has a hole in the bottom, nothing will be retained. Likewise, when we listen to the Dharma, it should not leave our minds when we walk out of the room. We should think about everything we have heard and try to remember it.

As Kyabje Trijang Rinpoche has often admonished his disciples:

Do not consider the teachings to be like certain ritual objects that cannot be taken out of this room. If you listen well and retain what I tell you, you can apply them wherever you are.

Thus, Pabongka always advised that after our lessons we review the material and discuss it with our fellow students.

In addition, there are three qualities we must have as a disciple in order to become the right kind of vessel to be filled with the Dharma by a spiritual master. Aryadeva (’Phags-pa lha) (3rd century) has said in Four Hundred Verse Treatise (bZhi-brgya-pa, Skt. Catuḥśataka) (XII.1)

A listener who is (1) upright and unbiased, (2) has common-sense (discrimination) and (3) takes keen interest is described as being a proper vessel.

(1) To be a fit disciple, we must be honest and impartial to considerations of friends or enemies, likes or dislikes. We must not take sides or have strong feelings of prejudice. Rather, we must be open-minded about what we are studying. Preconceived notions or judgments will only hinder our way. 

Moreover, we should study the Buddha Dharma without always comparing it with other systems of thought. Such intellectual exercise is totally pretentious, especially if we lack complete knowledge of the two things we are contrasting. Rather, we try to understand the teachings in terms of their own inner logic and in their own prescribed sequential order.

We must also be impartial with respect to those around us. Others’ faults seem more than evident to us, but we are often blind to our own shortcomings. We must become less critical of others and direct our attention to becoming aware of and correcting all our own faults. 

(2) Secondly, it is important to have common-sense discrimination, otherwise we will always see contradictions in what we are being taught. If at one lesson we are told to wear warm clothing and at another not to do so, with common sense we will be able to realize that we should dress warmly when it is cold and not when it is hot. In this same way, with common sense, we will be able to see how all the teachings fit together to form a coherent whole suited for integrated practice in our daily life. 

Often high masters will give personal measures to be taken only by a certain disciple at a specific point in his or her training. For example, Milarepa at one point told Rechungpa (Ras chung-pa rDo-rje grags-pa) (1083–1161) that he needed no further intellectual studies but should simply meditate to build up beneficial habits of the mind. For us to take this instruction as generally applicable to everyone and to all situations would be a great mistake.

(3) Finally, if we are not diligent and do not take interest in what we are learning, then teaching us would be like lecturing to a drawing of a person. There would be no way for us to benefit from the study of the Dharma. 

Relying on the Six Recognitions That Provide Conducive Conditions

In the Sutra Spread Out Like a Tree Trunk (sDong-po bskod-pa’i mdo, Skt. Gaṇḍavyūha Sūtra) (LIII) [as cited in Shantideva’s Compendium of Training (II.5) and Prajnakaramati’s (Shes-rab ’byung-gnas blo-gros) (950–1030) Commentary on the Difficult Points of (Shantideva’s) Engaging in Bodhisattva Behavior (sPyod-’jug dka’-’grel, Skt. Bodhicaryāvatāra-pañjikā) (V.103)] and in the Sutra Requested by Sagaramati (Blo-gros rgya-mtshos zhus-pa’i mdo, Skt. Sāgaramati Paripṛicchā Sūtra) [as cited in Shantideva’s Compendium of Trainings (XIX.26)], six recognitions have been outlined that we should have when listening to the Dharma:

• We regard ourselves as someone sick 
• We regard the one who imparts the Dharma as a skilled physician 
• We regard the Dharma as the medicine
• We regard its diligent practice as the way to become cured 
• We see the Buddha as a holy being whose medicine-like teachings are non-deceptive and can be followed with full confidence 
• We see the methods entailed by these teachings as something we should pray remains extant for a very long time. 

Such attitudes are the most conducive to hold for success in our studies and practice. 

First of all, it is important to recognize and feel that we are like a sick person. As Kamawa (Zhang Ka-ma-ba Shes-rab ’od) (1057–1131) said, as cited in Pabongka’s Liberation in the Palm of Your Hand (55.b4) and Tsongkhapa’s Grand Presentation (16.b3), such a recognition would be pointless if it were in fact not so. However, if we examine ourselves honestly, we will see that in truth we are suffering, day and night, with the chronic diseases of desire, anger, dissatisfaction and so forth. 

Also, Shantideva has said in Engaging in Bodhisattva Behavior (II.54): 

If even when scared by a common illness, I have to act in accord with a doctor’s advice, what need to mention when perpetually afflicted by diseases, like desire, (that produce) hundreds of injuries.

Furthermore, we are not simply suffering from one disease for just a short period, we have the innumerable sicknesses of all the disturbing emotions, each of these from beginningless time.

We should feel that our spiritual mentor is our doctor – the preventive measures he indicates are the medicine. The practice of them is the way to become cured. If a patient never takes the pills he is prescribed, then even if he were to lie on a bed of medicine surrounded by the finest physicians, he would not be cured. If he were to die like this, the blame would rest solely on himself, not on the doctors or the medicine.

Similar ideas are expressed in The King of Absorbed Concentrations Sutra (Ting-nge-’dzin rgyal-po’i mdo, Skt. Samādhirāja Sūtra) (IV.24, IX.45). Also, Shantideva has said in Engaging in Bodhisattva Behavior (IV.48): 

Having decisively thought like this, I shall strive to actualize the training, just as explained. Not listening to the doctor’s instructions, how can a patient in need of a cure be healed by his medicines?

Also, just as a sick man must look after his medicine and take it in proper doses and at the correct times, so too we must be diligent in our practice, not nonchalant. If we mislay our medicine, we become so upset, but if we forget the teachings, we do not feel sorry.

As Kyabje Trijang Rinpoche has chided his disciples:

If you spill a spoonful of an expensive, rare medicine on the floor, you almost want to get down on your hands and knees and lick it up. However, if you let a discourse go by without attending, or even if you go, if you sit for hours and never bother to listen, it means nothing to you.

Furthermore, we must practice what our teacher says with firm confidence that his or her instructions concerning the Dharma are fully reliable and will definitely benefit us. Therefore, we should not leave our learning at just the intellectual level of accumulating facts: we must integrate it into our personality. Otherwise, we are like a sick person who only reads medical texts and the labels on bottles but never takes one pill. Nor should we play scholarly games with the Dharma, using it merely as a topic for cocktail party conversation. This would be like a seriously ill person trying to impress others by listing all the modern cures for his ailment but never going to the doctor himself. Even if a leprous woman, whose nose has rotted off, puts on make-up and a lovely new dress, no one will think her pretty. Similarly, no one will be impressed by our superficial knowledge of the Dharma if our minds are untamed.

The more we learn, the less we should idly speak. If we wish to know what sugarcane tastes like, we do not just peel the bark and chew on that. We get to the heart of the matter. 

The Sutra Inciting Exceptional Resolve (Lhag-pa’i bsam-pa bskul-ba’i mdo, Skt. Adhyāśaya-saṃcodana Sūtra) says: 

The husk of a sugarcane stalk has no substance at all, the taste that delights is inside. Through eating the husk, the delicious taste of molasses cannot be found.

Just as it is with the husk, so it is with the words; the “taste” is in contemplating the meaning. Therefore, give up delighting in just the words, always be conscientious and reflect on the meaning. 

Likewise, when we study the measures to be taken in developing the graded stages of the path, we must always relate them to our own personal problems and delusions and compare them with our own attitudes and experience. As Geshe Langri Tangpa (dGe-bshes Glang-ri thang-pa rDo-rje seng-ge) (1054–1123), author of the Eight Verse Attitude-Training, once said:

Whenever I read a Mahayana scripture, I have the strong realization that all the mistakes described are my own, and all the good qualities are others.

Therefore, we should heed what Kyabje Trijang Rinpoche has warned:

When listening to the measures we must take concerning miserliness, even if you yourselves are a terrible hoarder, you pretend they do not pertain to you and look accusingly at your neighbor. This is not at all the proper way to listen to the Dharma teachings.

The business of a sincere practitioner is to examine himself or herself, not others. We, however, are professional detectives always searching out others’ faults. Instead of aiming the torch of criticism at those around us, we should aim it at ourselves and begin to see our own faults. If our face is dirty and we see in a mirror a black smudge on our cheek, we will wash it off. Likewise, if in the mirror of the teachings we see our own faults, we should make all effort to cleanse ourselves of them. 

Dromtonpa has said:

If you can see your own flaws and do not seek after the faults in others, then even if you have no other good qualities, you have some wisdom.

Therefore, whatever teachings we hear, we should ponder their meaning in terms of ourselves. Do not be like a person with a crooked nose and big ears who cannot bear to look at himself in a mirror and refuses ever to be photographed. If we listen to a master and think, “He explained just like this before, I’ve heard that a million times,” we will certainly derive no benefit. The same is true if we think the guidelines, examples and so on are just nice stories or merely fairy tales. We must try to see the point they are making and apply it to our minds. Also, if we are constantly checking the teacher to see if he or she gets the quotations and stories exactly correct, word for word, we will never make any progress. The same anecdotes are often told with slight variations in order to illustrate different points.

Furthermore, when we hear objections and arguments raised in a text, “Some people think...” – and if our reaction is, “Well, I don’t think like that; that’s a ridiculous question,” this clearly shows our complete egocentricity. The teachings on the Dharma are to answer everyone’s questions, not merely our own. Also, we should not just dismiss the objection raised, but examine ourselves, without being defensive, to see if perhaps we are in fact subtly under the influence of the mistaken view that is being clarified.

When we hold any of the above detrimental attitudes, the problem is often that we have become jaded by the teachings. The cause for this is listening to too many discourses or reading too many texts on the Dharma without ever building up any of the beneficial habits of the mind they discuss by meditating on them. In such a case, whatever we hear will make no effect on our minds. Like a stone in water, it will never soften. The Kadampa geshes had a saying:

Even though the Dharma can soften an inveterate scoundrel, it can never soften someone jaded by the teachings. Even though greasy butter can soften a tough piece of leather, it can never soften the hide pouch it is in.

When the material we study seems overwhelming, this is a sign we have not meditated enough. If, while studying the teachings, we simultaneously tried to meditate on them, we would absorb them and be thirsty for more. Another sign of our lack of integration is when we attend a class or read a book, we feel we know what will be said next. We are so bored, we feel we could recite it ourselves. However, if we built up good habits from what we heard, we would be excited with the advent of each new discourse and would look for further insights to be gained from slightly different phrasings. When His Holiness the Dalai Lama or his tutors deliver a discourse on the graded stages of the path, all the learned masters and sincere practitioners, even from far-off places, eagerly attend. This is not because they have never before received any teachings on this topic, but because they realize the power of listening to them over and again and have never become jaded. We should try to emulate their fine example.