Since we're waxing religious here I figured I'd bring something up that's been bothering me for a while:
Let's say that Joe meditator discovers that he can read minds or predict the future. Why would developing those abilities be considered taboo? The level of fingerwagging surrounding siddhis strongly reminds me of catholics being told they're going to hell for having sex before marriage.
If we assume that humans naturally have those abilities and can cultivate them, then why would an ancient tradition discourage their use? Just seems a little odd to me.
Here's a translation of one of Tulku Urgyen Rinpoche's talks.
Sorry I couldn't find the original source, but I'd suggest reading everything by this master. He's good beyond belief.
Lost in samadhi
"If you know how to meditate but don't know how to be free, how are you different from the meditative deities?"
Meditative deities are beings stuck in the highest levels of samsara, called the "peak of existence." They meditate, but do not be like them.
In Bangkok, there are several unfortunate examples of meditative deities, theoretically called arhats. The bodies of several monks are preserved in a state where they are neither alive nor dead; a perfect example of knowing how to meditate, but not knowing how to be free. Several years have passed since they "passed away" and they remain in a blocked state. They are in a "frozen emptiness," a state of cessation that is not allowed to dissolve. This state of cessation occurs before a person truly "passes away."
When I was in Malaysia, a monk returned from Bangkok and said, "My teacher is still there in his body. He looks exactly the same. He is not rotting. He is not decomposing. I do not dare to burn him, so I came back." Such people are in meditation, not in liberation. When it is said that it is impossible to achieve enlightenment through shamatha, this is what is meant. Shamatha always has a reference point. These beings are frozen at that reference point, which nothing can break once you have practiced it. Of course, such a state of meditative absorption is very impressive, but remaining in one stable thought cannot be called liberation.
Remaining in such a state after we have, by all outward appearances, "passed away" means that our lifespan, merit, and strength are exhausted, but we ourselves are still here. If you burn such a body, you create bad karma for yourself by killing it. And to revive such a person is extremely difficult; it requires a yogi, a genuine master of meditation. The best approach in this case is the transference of consciousness. Such a state of cessation has a time limit; someday, this person wakes up again. And then he realizes: "Oh God! I wasted all that time. It was all meaningless. There was no point to it!" Then, wrong views, regret, and anger appear in such a person; such bitterness can easily "open the doors" to rebirth in hell. "I spent all these years meditating, and it was useless!" Such a state of cessation, depending on the person's strength and stability, can last for many years.
There were many such meditators in the eastern part of Tibet. Chinese workers in that area sometimes entered caves where the bodies of people caught in inert shamatha were sitting. They slit open their stomachs and extracted a substance used for making gunpowder. Some of them had internal organs that were almost like fresh red meat. The heart, the intestines - everything was in place. I heard that there were five or six such bodies sitting in some caves. They can remain in this state for a thousand years. They sit, staring blankly, with their eyes closed. The bodies are motionless, as if frozen. However, the state of consciousness is equivalent to dullness. I was not there myself, but another tulku from Kham was and told me that he himself saw three or four such "dried meditators." He did not know for how long they had been sitting there. Chinese workers cut up and damaged quite a few of these bodies.
In the Tantras, there is a certain technique called the "method of reviving the rishi." You have to soak such a body in warm water for a long time. Then the body starts to move slightly, energies begin to circulate in it. Medicine is poured into the stomach. The person is given artificial respiratio. Little by little, he starts breathing again. Then the master doing this whispers in his ear: "Now come out of the state of cessation. You were going the wrong way." I have not seen this text, but it exists.
A text of this kind is simultaneously a pointing-out instruction for vipashyana. In essence, it says: "Very good; you succeeded. And now - enough with shamatha. Now you need to start practicing the essence of this state of shamatha, which is called - vipashyana." I do not know exactly for how long, but such a frozen state has its duration, its limit. When all the power is exhausted or all the reserve of merit in the person is depleted (because, in its own way, this state is maintained by the person's reserve of merit), the person naturally wakes up, comes to. Like from sleep. They wake up and very soon die.
My father, Chimé Dorjé, was involved in a similar story. Once, he was present at a long-life ceremony in a house where the cook, apparently, was a diligent practitioner of inert shamatha. At that time in Eastern Tibet, tea was served in large clay teapots. During the ceremony, the cook entered with such a teapot. And he froze in the doorway, neither going in nor out. He was stuck in a state of inert shamatha. My father said, "Do not wake him up or disturb him. Otherwise, he will drop the teapot and spill it all over the room." Such teapots used to be very hot. So my father allowed him to stand there in the doorway with the hot teapot in his hands. My father said, "Do not touch him. Let's see how long this will last." Three or four hours passed. Everyone started to fear that he would not come to or would drop the teapot.
My father got up from his seat and went up to him. He called him by name in a whisper. The cook woke up. Then my father asked him what had happened. The cook said, "What do you mean, what happened? I am coming with the tea." He was very diligent and probably achieved good results in the practice of the state of inert shamatha.
And here is another story about how people lose their way in shamatha. A lama from the Golok province in Eastern Tibet came to the great Jamgön Kongtrul Lodrö Tayé. The lama told Jamgön Rinpoche that he had spent nine or ten years in retreat, meditating. "Now my practice has become quite successful," he said, "sometimes I achieve a certain degree of clairvoyance. When I concentrate on something, my attention is unwavering; I feel complete clarity and peace. I experience a state in which there are no mental constructs, no thoughts. For long periods, I experience bliss, clarity, and non-thought. I would say that my meditation is very successful!" "What a pity!" was Jamgön Kongtrul's reply. The lama left in slight distress and returned the next morning. "Honestly, Rinpoche, my shamatha practice is good. I managed to balance all mental states of pleasure and pain. The three poisons of anger, desire, and dullness no longer have power over me. I meditated for nine years, and I think that is a good enough level." "What a pity!" replied Jamgön Kongtrul. The lama thought, "They say he is an outstanding master without a shadow of envy, but it seems to me he is a little envious. Is it possible?" Then he said, "I came here to ask you about the nature of mind, knowing your outstanding reputation. My meditation during the day is fine; I am not asking about that. I would like to ask how to practice at night; it is at night that I experience some difficulties with meditation." Jamgön Kongtrul again only said, "What a pity!"
The lama thought, "He really envies me! He probably does not have a fraction of the clairvoyance that I have." He told Jamgön Kongtrul about his clairvoyance: "It is not difficult for me at all to see the future three or four days ahead." "What a pity!" Jamgön Kongtrul repeated again. The lama went to his room. But, he probably started to doubt himself, because after a few days, he came to Jamgön Rinpoche again and said, "I am returning to my retreat. What should I do now?" Jamgön Rinpoche told him: "Do not meditate anymore! Starting today, forget about meditation. If you want to follow my advice, go home and stay in retreat for another three years, but without the slightest hint of meditation. Do not induce a state of peace even a little bit." The lama thought, "What is he saying? What does he mean? What does this mean? On the other hand, they say he is a great master. I will try and see what happens." Therefore, he said, "Fine, Rinpoche," and departed.
Returning to the retreat, he found that not meditating was very difficult for him. Whenever he tried to simply be, without trying to meditate, he found that he was falling back into meditation. He later recounted, "That first year was the hardest! It got easier in the second year." Then he realized that meditation was simply keeping his consciousness busy. Now he understood what Jamgön Kongtrul meant when he said, "Do not meditate."
In the third year, he achieved genuine non-meditation, having completely detached from its conscious maintenance. He discovered a state free from meditation; a state where nothing needs to be done; a state where awareness is simply left as it is, by itself. At this time, nothing spectacular happened in his practice; not even a trace of any special clairvoyance. Moreover, even the former meditative experiences of bliss, clarity, and non-thought disappeared. Then he thought, "Now my practice is completely lost! I had better go back to him and ask for more advice."
He came to Jamgön Kongtrul again and told him what was happening to him. Rinpoche replied: "Correct! Correct! These three years have made your meditation successful. Correct!" Jamgön Kongtrul continued: "You do not need to meditate by consciously holding something in mind, but you also must not be distracted."
The lama said, "Maybe this is due to my former training in stillness, but, actually, the periods of distraction are very short. I am not distracted that much. I feel that I have discovered what you meant. I am experiencing a state that is not created by meditation, and yet, it lasts for some time by itself."
"Correct!" said Jamgön Kongtrul, "Now train in it for the rest of your life!"
Such is the story of the lama from Golok; it is known that he subsequently achieved a very high level of realization.
"No not that anything but that!"
