Were you ever curious where to all those people who do
three-year retreat or beyond have disappeared to? When I was younger I wondered where all the
old yogins, men and women, are in the U.S.
What happens to them after they complete three-year retreat, or the
equivalent? As I have said before, I
used to wonder this, and not being able to find a whole lot of them, I decided
to undertake the yogini lifestyle myself—even though I have some pretty serious
competency issues as a meditator.
One of the things one gains after meditating for a number of
years is awareness of one’s shortcomings.
This translates into the universal quality of decades long meditators:
humility. Therefore, the main thing good
practitioners do is fade into obscurity. I guess that can be viewed as a sign of
accomplishment!
They say realization can dawn at any time, inside long-term
retreat or outside of it. I consider the typical three-year group retreat a
great foundation for practice. In addition,
a good facility and lama can provide what Lama Sarah Harding calls, “three
years of training for a job that doesn’t exist,” i.e. ritual and music
training, and familiarity with the main practices of one’s lineage. Some of my vajra sisters and brothers probably
had some kind of awakening in their first or second three-year retreat. For the rest of us who did not, we sure know
how to practice properly with the right view, and can continue on from there,
inside or outside of a retreat structure if we care to.
We can’t do every practice we ever learn. There isn’t enough time in a day, it isn’t
necessary. We find there are some
practices we excel at more than others.
Or, in my case, there are practices I am less terrible at.
Now, I am acquainted with dozens of people who have
completed at least three years in retreat.
What happened to them? They got a
job and, in many cases, a spouse. Some
have kids. They help their Dharma
center, if they can.
A married couple I met long ago continued to do a series of
three year retreats (in another state where it’s cheaper to live.) They are the
exception rather than the rule. I think
some of my friends will do a lot of practice after they retire, if they live
long enough.
Sometimes these people aren’t visible to the larger Dharma
community because they don’t attend a lot of teachings by the lamas that come
through town. They have already received those teachings. The ones who like to study dharma may turn up
when in-depth teachings occur, such a well-regarded Khenpo teaching for a month
on the highest level practices. (I’m
thinking Khenpo Namdrol here). But, most
can’t take off from work for that length of time. Also, many yogins aren’t necessarily
interested in the big theories. They
want to get to the main point and focus on practice when they have free time.
So, there isn’t any clubhouse where these people meet.
Consequently, you could be living in the same city as an old
yogin and never meet up with him or her.
I make prayers from time to time, that I will meet the real incarnate
Bodhisattvas and “field-born” Dakas and Dakinis who no doubt are in my area. The ones without big hats.
I was talking with the lama who guides my practice now the
other day. He said you can’t tell who
has realization until they die. Some
great holy lamas, who everyone expects to pass in a sublime way, die without
the slightest signs of accomplishment. Some practitioners who no one had faith
in—who looked like out of control alcoholics or pugnacious ruffians—manifest
profound signs of accomplishment at the end.
I asked my lama the obvious question.
“Do they know they have realization?”
“Of course!”
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