Chapter 6How to Follow a Spiritual Teacher

There is a truth that runs through every sutra, every tantra, every teaching ever given: no one has ever reached perfect awakening without the guidance of a spiritual teacher. Not a single being has ever developed the profound realizations of the path through cleverness or willpower alone. We have a remarkable talent for finding wrong paths to follow. When it comes to the authentic way that leads to liberation, we are like a blind person wandering alone across an empty plain.

If you wanted to bring back jewels from a distant treasure island, you would never set sail without an experienced navigator. In just the same way, a spiritual teacher is our true guide across the ocean of cyclic existence. Without such a guide, we simply do not know the way.

The process of working with a teacher unfolds through three phases. First, we examine the teacher carefully before committing. Then, once we have found the right teacher, we follow them with wholehearted devotion. And finally, we absorb the teacher's realization and conduct into our own being, so that what was once theirs becomes ours.

Examining the Teacher

We are easily influenced by the people around us. This is simply part of our nature as ordinary beings. If you spend time in the forests of the Malaya mountains, where sandalwood trees grow, even an ordinary piece of wood gradually absorbs the sweet fragrance of the sandalwood surrounding it. After some years, it comes to smell just as sweet as the sandalwood itself. In the same way, if you live and study with a teacher who is rich in genuine qualities, you will slowly become permeated by those very qualities. Everything you do will begin to resemble the teacher's own way of being.

But this also means we must be careful. The wrong influence can be just as powerful. And so the teachings urge us: before committing to a teacher, examine them with care.

In these times, it is difficult to find a teacher with every quality described in the tantras. But at a minimum, the teacher should keep their vows purely -- outer, inner, and secret. They should be learned in the sutras, tantras, and commentaries. Their heart should overflow with compassion, loving every being as a parent loves an only child. They should be skilled in practice and, through putting the teachings into action, should have developed genuine realization.

For the profound pith instructions of the Vajrayana in particular, we need a teacher whose mind has been matured through an unbroken lineage of empowerments, who has kept their sacred commitments intact, who is calm and disciplined, and who has mastered the meaning of the ground, path, and fruition. Having experienced the nature of reality directly, they should be liberated themselves. The well-being of others should be their sole concern, with few worldly preoccupations. Seeing samsara as suffering, they should feel genuine sadness and inspire the same recognition in others.

The teachings also warn us about certain kinds of teachers we should avoid.

There are teachers who are like a millstone made of wood. They have no real qualities from study, reflection, or meditation, but they cling to their family status, thinking that because they are the son or nephew of a famous lama, they must be superior to everyone else. Whatever little study they have done was not out of genuine aspiration for awakening, but to protect their position. Such a teacher is about as useful for grinding grain as a millstone carved from wood.

Then there are teachers like the frog who lived in a well. This frog had spent its entire life at the bottom of a well. One day, a frog from the great ocean came to visit. When the well-frog asked how big the ocean was, the visitor said it was enormous -- far bigger than the well. The well-frog could not believe it. He insisted on seeing for himself, and when he finally beheld the ocean, the story says his head split apart from the shock and he died. Teachers like this have no special qualities, but others put them on a pedestal out of blind faith. Puffed up by the profits and honors they receive, they remain unaware of what the qualities of a truly great teacher even look like.

There are also what the teachings call mad guides -- teachers with very little knowledge who never made the effort to study properly. Their negative emotions are strong, their mindfulness weak, and they are lax with their vows. Though their understanding may be lower than that of ordinary people, they imitate the wild behavior of the great accomplished masters, acting as though their conduct is something extraordinary. Full of anger and jealousy, they have severed the lifeline of love and compassion. Anyone who follows them will be led astray.

And there are blind guides -- teachers whose qualities are no greater than your own and who lack the love and compassion of the awakened heart. Such a teacher can never open your eyes to what you should and should not do.

Padmasambhava, the Great Master of Oddiyana, put it starkly: not to examine the teacher is like drinking poison. To follow a false teacher without investigation is to waste the precious freedoms and advantages of your human life, like someone who mistakes a venomous snake coiled at the base of a tree for the tree's cool shadow.

Yet for all this careful examination, there is ultimately one question that matters above all others: does this teacher have bodhicitta? If their heart is filled with the genuine wish to awaken all beings, following them can only be beneficial. If a teacher lacks bodhicitta, however impressive their teachings may seem, those teachings will ultimately serve only worldly concerns. This single question contains within it everything else we need to know.

We should also recognize that even careful examination may not reveal the qualities of sublime beings who conceal their true nature, while charlatans skilled in deception abound. The greatest of all teachers is the one with whom we share a connection from former lives. Simply to meet such a teacher, to hear their voice or even their name, can transform everything in an instant, stirring faith so deep that every hair on our body stands on end.

Following the Teacher

Once we have examined a teacher and found them to possess these qualities, and once we have committed ourselves through receiving empowerments and teachings, we should never waver. From that moment on, we should see the teacher as the Buddha in person.

The sutras offer a series of vivid images for how we should relate to our teacher. Like a sick person who puts themselves entirely in the care of a skilled doctor. Like a traveler on a dangerous road who relies on a courageous escort. Like someone threatened by enemies who looks to a protector. Like merchants crossing the ocean who entrust themselves to a captain. Like a person taking a ferry who relies completely on the boatman.

The qualities of a genuine teacher are boundless. Such a teacher is like a great ship for crossing the ocean of suffering, like an unerring navigator, like rain from a cloud whose impartiality is never disturbed by attachment or aversion. Like the earth, they bear all ingratitude with patience. Like a wish-granting tree, they are the source of help and happiness. Like a mother and father, they love everyone equally. Whoever makes even a negative connection with such a teacher will eventually be led out of suffering.

To follow such a teacher properly, we need qualities of our own: faith, discrimination, knowledge, and compassion. We should respect our vows, control our body, speech, and mind, cultivate pure perception, and never drift into casualness.

The teachings describe the ideal student through vivid images. Like a perfect horse, we should respond to the teacher's slightest wish. Like a boat, we should never tire of going back and forth in service. Like a bridge, we should bear whatever comes, pleasant or difficult. Like a blacksmith's anvil, we should endure heat, cold, and all hardships. Like a servant, we should follow every instruction. Like a sweeper, we should let go of all pride and take the lowest seat.

There are three ways to please a teacher and serve them well. The highest is what is called the offering of practice: putting whatever the teacher teaches into actual practice with fierce determination, regardless of hardship. The middle way is service through body and speech -- doing whatever the teacher needs, whether physically, verbally, or mentally. The third is through material offerings -- giving food, money, or other material goods.

Of these three, the offering of practice is by far the most important.

However the teacher may behave, we must maintain pure perception. This is one of the most profound and challenging aspects of the path. We must train ourselves to see the wisdom behind the teacher's actions, even when those actions seem incomprehensible.

Consider the great pandita Naropa. Already renowned as a brilliant scholar, he was told by his yidam deity that his teacher from previous lives was Tilopa, living in eastern India. Naropa set off at once, but no one had heard of any great master by that name. Finally someone mentioned a beggar called Tilopa, living by a ruined wall. When Naropa found him, Tilopa was grilling fish over a fire, putting them in his mouth, and snapping his fingers. To ordinary eyes, this looked like the behavior of a common fisherman. But Tilopa had the power to transfer the consciousness of those fish to a pure realm. Similarly, the great siddha Saraha lived as an arrowsmith, and Savaripa as a hunter. The outward appearance of a realized master may be utterly unlike what we expect.

The monk Sunaksatra offers a cautionary tale. He was the Buddha's own half-brother and served him for twenty-four years, memorizing all twelve categories of teachings. Yet he saw everything the Buddha did as deceitful, concluding that apart from a glow around his body, there was nothing special about him. He left the Buddha's service and was reborn as a hungry ghost. Without pure perception, even the physical presence of a fully awakened being is not enough. The faults exist in our own vision, not in the teacher.

When the teacher appears angry with us, we should not become resentful. Instead, we should recognize that the teacher has seen some fault in us and that this moment of intensity is precisely the means to correct it. When the outburst has passed, we should go to the teacher, honestly acknowledge our faults, and resolve not to repeat them.

In the teacher's presence, we should conduct ourselves with awareness and respect -- standing when they stand, asking after their well-being when they sit, walking respectfully to their left and slightly behind rather than in front or to their right.

If there are people who criticize our teacher, we should not treat them as close friends. If we can change their attitude, we should try; if not, we should keep some distance, for the influence of negative views can damage our own commitments.

With our spiritual siblings and the teacher's attendants, we should be comfortable to be around, like a well-fitting belt. We should mix in easily, like salt in food. And when difficulties arise, we should bear them without complaint, like a pillar.

Emulating the Teacher's Realization and Actions

The final phase of working with a teacher is learning to embody what the teacher has realized. The teachings use two beautiful images for this. We should be like a swan gliding across an immaculate lake, delighting in its waters without muddying them. Or like a bee visiting flowers in a garden, drawing out the nectar while leaving the blossoms unharmed. Through receptivity, faith, and steady devotion, we should absorb all the teacher's qualities of knowledge, reflection, and meditation -- like the contents of one perfect vessel being poured into another.

Whenever the teacher engages in bodhisattva activity, even our smallest participation -- a material offering, a moment of rejoicing -- brings us a share of that immense merit. Even sweeping the teacher's room or carrying a message is an infallible way to accumulate merit. All the practices of the generation and perfection phases are ultimately embodied in the teacher, which is why the sutras and tantras describe the teacher as the Buddha in person.

The Story of Sadaprarudita

To understand the depth of devotion the path can ask of us, consider the story of the Bodhisattva Sadaprarudita, whose name means "Ever Weeping." He was searching for the Prajnaparamita, the teachings on transcendent wisdom. One day, in a solitary wasteland, he heard a voice from the sky telling him to journey east, without caring about fatigue, sleep, heat, or cold, and that he would find the teachings he sought. He set off at once, but then realized he had forgotten to ask how far he needed to go. Stricken with longing, weeping like a parent who has lost an only child, he could think of nothing but when he would hear the teaching.

A vision of a Tathagata appeared and told him of a city five hundred leagues to the east, where the Bodhisattva Dharmodgata dwelt and taught the transcendent wisdom. But when Sadaprarudita drew near, he found he had nothing to offer -- no wealth, no jewels, no garlands. So he went to the marketplace and called out that he would sell his own flesh. Evil spirits made everyone deaf to his words, and he sat weeping in a corner.

Then Indra, king of the gods, appeared disguised as a young man, saying he needed human flesh and bone marrow for an offering. Overjoyed, Sadaprarudita cut into his own arm and thigh. Just then, a merchant's daughter saw him from her window and rushed down. Moved by his devotion, she offered to provide whatever he needed and to accompany him to Dharmodgata. Indra then revealed his true form, confessing he had been testing Sadaprarudita's resolve. Through the blessing of truth, Sadaprarudita's body was restored.

When at last Sadaprarudita reached Dharmodgata, he made offerings and received teachings. Then Dharmodgata entered a state of deep concentration that lasted seven years. Throughout that entire time, Sadaprarudita and his companions gave up both sitting and lying down, remaining on their feet, their minds fixed on the moment when the teacher would arise and teach again. As the seven years drew to a close, Sadaprarudita swept the teaching ground for a league in every direction. When obstructing forces caused all the water to vanish as he tried to settle the dust, he cut open his own veins and sprinkled the ground with his blood. Indra transformed it into celestial sandalwood. At last Dharmodgata taught, and Sadaprarudita experienced millions of states of realization and a vision of infinite Buddhas that never left him, even in dreams.

The Trials of Naropa

While following Tilopa, the great pandita Naropa endured hardships beyond imagination. After accepting him as a disciple, Tilopa led Naropa along on his wanderings but never taught him any Dharma.

One day, Tilopa took Naropa to the top of a nine-story tower and asked if anyone present would leap from it to obey their master. Since there was no one else, Naropa understood this was meant for him. He jumped, and his body crashed to the ground, leaving him in terrible pain. Tilopa came down and asked if he was hurt. Naropa groaned that he was barely alive. But Tilopa blessed him, and his body was completely healed.

Another time, Tilopa prepared long splinters of bamboo, oiled and hardened in the fire, and pushed them under Naropa's fingernails and toenails. The pain was unbearable. Tilopa left for several days, then returned, pulled out the splinters, and blessed him. On other occasions, Tilopa sent Naropa to steal soup from farm laborers and money from a rich man. Each time Naropa was caught and beaten nearly to death. Each time, Tilopa eventually arrived, blessed him, and they went on their way.

In all, Naropa underwent twelve major and twelve minor trials -- twenty-four hardships in a single lifetime. Through all of them, his teacher had not spoken a single word of formal teaching, and Naropa had not done a single moment of conventional practice.

Then one day, Tilopa told Naropa to fetch water while he made the fire. When Naropa returned, Tilopa seized his head, took off his sandal, and struck him on the forehead. Naropa lost consciousness. When he came to, every quality of his teacher's wisdom mind had arisen within him. Teacher and student had become one in realization.

All of Naropa's trials were, in truth, his teacher's instructions. They were the skillful means by which his obscurations were stripped away. What appeared to be pointless suffering was in fact the most direct path to awakening. There is no greater practice than obeying one's teacher.

Milarepa and Marpa

The story of Milarepa and Marpa is one of the most beloved in Tibetan Buddhism. In western Tibet, a man named Mila Sherab Gyaltsen died while his son and daughter were still young. Their uncle seized everything the family owned, leaving them destitute.

Driven by grief and rage, the young Mila learned the arts of black magic. He caused the death of his uncle's family and thirty-five others by collapsing a house upon them, then destroyed the villagers' harvest with hail.

Afterward, overwhelmed with remorse, Mila resolved to practice the Dharma. He went first to a master of the Great Perfection named Rongton Lhaga, who described his teaching as so easy that fortunate beings need not even meditate. Mila took him at his word and stayed in bed. When nothing happened, the lama admitted he had praised his teaching too highly for someone with such heavy karma, and told Mila that his true teacher from past lives was Marpa the Translator, a direct disciple of Naropa, living in the south at Trowolung.

The mere sound of Marpa's name was enough to flood Mila's entire being with inexpressible joy. Every pore on his body tingled, his eyes filled with tears, and a fierce longing to meet this teacher overtook him completely.

When Mila arrived, Marpa had already foreseen his coming in dreams. He had gone down the valley to await him, but disguised himself as a farmer ploughing a field. The moment Mila caught sight of this stranger, he felt tremendous, inexplicable bliss, and for an instant all his ordinary thoughts stopped completely -- though he did not yet realize this was his teacher.

When Mila finally stood before Marpa, he offered his body, speech, and mind and begged for the teachings that would bring Buddhahood in one lifetime. Marpa replied that he could have either food and clothing while seeking Dharma elsewhere, or Dharma from Marpa while finding provisions on his own -- but not everything at once.

What followed were years of almost unimaginable hardship. Marpa ordered Mila to build houses -- first circular, then semicircular, then triangular. Each time, halfway through, Marpa would fly into a rage and order him to tear everything down, carrying every stone back to where he had found it. An open sore broke out on Mila's back, but he wept in silence and kept working.

Marpa then set him to building a great square tower, nine stories high with a pinnacle on top, promising this one would not be torn down. But even as Mila built, Marpa found reasons to scold him. When advanced students playfully rolled a huge stone into his foundations, Marpa demanded Mila pull it out and carry it back -- then bring it back and replace it. By the seventh story, Mila's hip was one raw wound.

Each time an empowerment was given to other students, Mila took his place among the gathering, hoping his years of labor had earned him the right to receive the teachings. Each time, Marpa threw him out with blows and harsh words.

Finally, utterly shattered, Mila wandered off. He found work reading scriptures for a family, and it was there, reading the story of Sadaprarudita, that something shifted inside him. He returned, but again Marpa met him with abuse. His despair grew so complete that he prepared to take his own life. At that critical moment, Marpa softened. He accepted Mila as his disciple, gave him the name Mila Dorje Gyaltsen, and bestowed upon him all the empowerments and instructions -- like the contents of one pot being poured completely into another. Mila practiced under the harshest conditions and attained all the supreme accomplishments.

The Teacher in Our Lives

Countless Buddhas have already appeared, yet we are still adrift in suffering. Innumerable great teachers have arisen, but we have not had the fortune to meet them. Now, in these times when the teachings are fading, our spiritual teachers think of us with boundless compassion and appear in human form. Though they are Buddhas in realization, in their actions they are attuned to our situation. In truth, they are no different from the Buddha -- but in one sense, their kindness is even greater, for they are here, with us, now.

The essential instruction is simple, even if its practice is demanding beyond measure: in the beginning, examine the teacher skillfully. In the middle, follow them skillfully. In the end, emulate their realization and actions skillfully. A student who does this will always be on the authentic path, come what may.