The Universality of Primary Hues

One of the first things that captured me about the Tibetan Buddhist design tradition was the color scheme. It originally struck me, and still does, as elementary. Elementary in that best sense of the word, straightforward and universal.

If you have ever seen a Tibetan prayer flag rippling in the wind, you should recall the bright spread of primary colors. The same scheme is integrated in Tibetan Buddhist temple and building design worldwide, both exteriorly (when possible) and interiorly.

White relates to the element of Space/all encompassing space/buddha

Green relates to the element of Wind/all encompassing wisdom/karma

Red relates to the element of Fire/discriminating awareness wisdom/padma

Blue relates to the element of Water/mirror like wisdom/vajra

Yellow relates to the element of Earth/wisdom of equanimity/ratna

Kagyu Shenpen Tharchin

Source: The Pluralism Project, flickr

The above photo of Kagyu Shenpen Tharchin in Richmond, Virginia is, in my opinion, a quite humble and pretty example of a small sangha's ceremonial and practice space, with a prominent interior use of the yellow and red hues. Why wood floors seem to be always be most fitting, atmospherically, aesthetically and even, religiously, in spiritual centers is a question that seems simple to me but which I haven't got the answer to yet.

Established in 1993, the center is, to date, the only Tibetan Buddhist centre in Richmond, Virginia. The center is part of Ekoji Buddhist Sangha which is host to other sanghas of Buddhist tradition: a Vipassana group, a Zen group and a Pure Land Group. This truly makes Ekoji a multi-dimensional center, to serve as host to different Buddhist traditions as well as be encouragingly open door to those who do not claim a lineage, tradition or faith.

The Tibetan Buddhist sangha at Ekoji, Kagyu Shenpen Tharchin, was established through the efforts of Lama Norlha, the founder of Kagyu Thubten Chöling Monastery in upstate New York. The story of many Tibetan Buddhist leaders journeys, particularly in the latter half of the 20th century, is layered with several different geographies and, of course, the story of cultures adapting to religious tradition, or perhaps, more critically, vice versa. Diamond Vehicle is a film in the works about Lama Norlha, that appears to have captured all of this, along with the political backdrop that has served as the catalyst for the perhaps, unexpected, yet completely global reading and interest in the Vajrayana.

The Dharma and the Film

In the last post (May 7, 2010), I referenced the film The Little Buddha, in light of the fact that the post focused on a monastery that was featured in it. I then realized the whole arena of Buddhism and Film that I hadn't really touched on yet in this blog, except for the post on Dogville, exploring what I saw as a current of the bodhisattva ideal at work in some of it's character development.

Hollywood has done it's fair share of touching, interesting and even epic looks at Buddhist tales- clearly Scorsese's Kundun is the first thing that probably comes to mind. Yet, today I learn of an entire festival dedicated to bringing together and showcasing Buddhism on film: The International Buddhist Film Festival.

Among the films, all with a focus on some aspect of Tibetan Buddhism and which were shown for free at the Smithsonian Institution in March of this year, is the The Ceremony of the Vajra Crown, an Academy Award nominated film that was shot at Cathedral of the Woods in New Hampshire. The Ceremony of the Vajra Crown documents an empowerment ceremony conducted by the Karmapa and having been shot in 1980, is perhaps one of the earliest films documenting Tibetan Buddhist experience and ritual in North America.

Viewing the roster of the other films takes you on a global tour of successful efforts to document and share various aspects of Buddhist communities, practices and the many and diverse geographies that wind their way into the tale of the Vajrayana's global path.

Prior International Buddhist Film Festivals and various film showings were held in (to mention a few locales) Mexico City; San Francisco; New York City and Singapore. The first festival of this kind was held in Amsterdam. Program director Babeth VanLoo is quoted on the IBFF website as saying:

“What’s special about the feature films we will present is that they are not only about Tibet, but they have been made by Tibetans and/or the cast is for the most part Tibetan. After the first wave of Hollywood films using Tibetan themes, this is new.”

Indeed. In fact, not only are they cast in supporting and major roles, but have come to also serve critical roles in production.

In the rich and increasingly extensive dialogue about the 'presentation' of Tibetan Buddhism in the West, the conversation ranges from analytical, academic insights and debating to very pedestrian discussions about the ways in which symbols and aspects of this culture are transmitted and accepted on this continent. From Hollywood portrayals and other media depictions, to it's presence as a vital and growing spiritual and religious culture among Tibetans and non-Tibetans alike- the questions raised and the ensuing conversations are often quite interesting.

And there's few better ways to capture the attention of an information and media saturated society than through the dynamics of film. As our choices in media consumption seem to expand at a hurtling rate, the discussions revolving around how are awareness of a spirituality, a religion, a philosophy (whatever it may be) is both shaped and presented through a particular medium, this becomes an increasingly relevant dialogue. Being a lover of film, I for one see it as a form of both art and social engagement merged and at work.

A Bodhisattvic Struggle

May I be a guard for all those who are protector-less,

A guide for those who journey on the road,

For those who wish to go across the water,

May I be a boat, a raft, a bridge.

For all those ailing in the world,

Until their every sickness has been healed,

May I myself become for them

The doctor, nurse, the medicine itself.

~ An Excerpt from Shantideva's Bodhisattva Vows

Photo: Rolf Konow/Lions Gate Films

I'm going to do something a bit different with today's post. The card I pulled from the wooden bowl was 'Colorado,' a state I've been excited to make both virtual treks and in-person visits to. I hesitate to say that dharma history is more rich in one place over another, but the facts are that this Rocky Mountain state is a host to numerous dharma centers of multiple lineages and practices. The 70's saw a vital rooting of Tibetan Buddhist practices in this state and my guess is that Colorado is a rather important node in the historical spectrum of the Vajrayana's transmission through North America.

But instead of focusing on any one particular dharma center today, my mind immediately went to the film Dogville when I saw Colorado on that card.

I first saw Dogville at a cinema in downtown Tromsø several years ago. As interesting as it was to spend a few months in this Northern Norwegian hub, I was alone, far from family and was occasionally feeling some of the affects of solitude induced melancholy. The film struck a chord not only in it's minimalistic portrayal of a mountainous, frontier town and the urge to romanticize life there to some degree, but also in that it struck me immediately as a bit of a bodhisattvic tale. I'm not sure bodhisattvic is an actual word, but I like it, as indicative of the bodhisattva.

Some may balk at the linking of the bodhisattva to any of the characters in this film. The notion of 'struggle' fitting with the idea of the bodhisattva may also be unappreciated by some.

A bodhisattva is a being who, simply put, seeks enlightenment for all creatures as well as a cessation of suffering. There is a notion of sacrifice and "delaying" enlightenment on this path, in order to contribute to efforts of ceasing suffering for all creatures. Such a decision is propelled, ultimately, by compassion. The Bodhisattva's Vow is a central point in Mahayana and Vajrayana practice.

My own mundane interpretation of the Bodhisattva ideal is that it is a tremendous path in that one is essentially committing to remain in samsara (the cycle of birth and death), and regularly be confronted with all the joys, pains and experiences that such a cycle entails.

Dogville's plot tracks the journey of a young woman, Grace, who seeks to take literal refuge in a small mountain town in Colorado. The plot also follows the alert and concerned philosophical meanderings of a young male resident of the town, Tom, who essentially serves as her benefactor. He campaigns on her behalf to the other town residents to let her hide out in their town. She is clearly in some kind of trouble.

Questions arise from the town's residents, many in the vein of 'Why should we be so generous' and 'What do we risk in permitting her to stay.' Tom is intent on convincing the town's residents that Grace should be permitted to stay, that it is the town's moral duty, that it is the right thing to do.

Alas, the consensus is to permit Grace to stay, hinging on her ability to prove herself as a "good person" over the course of a couple of weeks. In those couple of weeks, Grace struggles to find some purpose and place in daily living in the community. Like a tiny seed struggling to take root in an occasionally hostile environment, Grace pushes and persists with the will to simply survive. She is initially met with stubborn and questionable resistance in all corners of the community when she offers to lend a helping hand.

Grace, as can be intuited, is from another type of life- a bigger city or a bigger town. She arrived beat down, desperate, more than willing to do what the townsfolk said in order to have a safe haven. As the town warmed to her and began showing it's own friendly and compassionate nature, we can see Grace falling into a sort of reverie of perceiving this place and it's inhabitants as living a 'good and simple life,' as being 'good and simple people.' And herein lies her dangerous assumption that later leads to the film's volatile and sad ending. Grace truly begins to believe that these folks are somehow clearer in spirit, in heart, perhaps because their remote location and simple seeming lives lack the complexities of bigger town life. She overlooks their very human potential to cause harm or suffering. She gives them carte blanche to dictate the days of her life because at some point she begins to trust in what she believes is their essentially good nature.

This Lars von Trier film is over two hours long and it really wasn't until the last half and hour that I started to become impatient. Partly because about midway through the film, the real discomfort begins. The township has realized what a 'gold mine' they have in Grace. She will do whatever they ask, with nary a complaint. A few unfortunate events are all it takes for members of the town to slowly turn towards suspicion and outright resent of Grace, for a myriad of reasons. What ensues is a basically a bondage scenario (at one point quite literally) in which Grace has become a voiceless slave to the community and their increasingly unreasonable and vicious demands.

Grace, as her name implies, suffers through it all quietly and with, well a melancholic grace. She does not fight back. She does not condemn them. The realization of human's capacity to be utterly fickle in the expression of compassion and goodwill catapults Grace into a very dark place. As a viewer, you can see that she has done nothing to warrant this. To the contrary, every interaction with the town's residents has increasingly brought forth compassionate expression from Grace, a deep and selfless desire to make their lives better, in any way she can. And often subtly at that.

I was exhausted by the time the end credits came on. I was also fairly rocked to the core by what I perceived as a sort of puzzle inherent in the decision to continuously interact out of compassion and will to transform suffering into something informative, transformative and enlightening. I refer to this as the bodhisattvic struggle. The path of the bodhisattva is a path that sees others sufferings and enlightenment to be as critical as your own. Along this path I perceive roadblocks that are part of the dialogue of psychology and communication itself.

The end of Dogville is perhaps satisfying for many viewers as they grew tired of seeing her be abused. But the manifestation of her wrathful response is perhaps but a stark lesson of skillful means in living and acting in compassion, so that resent and disillusionment do not destroy the means or disrupt the path.