The Dreadful Mystic Banquet
This section heading, taken from Alexandra David-Neel’s Magic and Mystery in Tibet, is a good indication of the impression that this “branch” of the Chod ritual has made on most foreigners. Evans-Wentz, who published the first translation of a Chod liturgy (the well-known treasure text Laughter of the Ddkini, translated by Kazi Dawa Samdup), titles the section “The Path of the Mystic Sacrifice: The
Yoga of Subduing the Lower Self.” But the imagery itself seems to appeal to our “lower self,” in the same way that horror films do. The appeal is universal and not without intent. Whatever it is about gruesome dis¬sections, bloody sacrifice, human dismemberment, and
ravenous demons that strikes a deep chord in the human psyche is purposely evoked in Chod. It aims for the deepest, most hidden . level, and in that lies its power and appeal. It is, as Machik so often says, “unlike other dharma s^^tems.”
In the visualization sequence, one’s body is prepared and offered by the sep-arated consciousness in the form of a dakini. This important point is often left out in descriptions of the practice: one is no longer in the body when it is cut apart but has flown out the escape hatch, so to speak. But if extracting the mind from the body did not totally sever attachment to it, the subsequent sharing of it with
spirits offers another opportunity. There is no question that if we truly do the visualization vividly, we come up against our most tena¬cious, deep-seated attachment to our self as our body. We might like to identify the self on a more sophisticated level as certain personality traits or free will or ethnic identity or cultivated qualities or even the reflection of a higher power. But when it comes right down to it, our real attachment is to the body. We sometimes don’t notice the extent of this identification until the beloved body
is threatened with disease or disfigurement—or until some shape-shifting dakinl starts chopping it up! After the practitioner has ejected consciousness and offered the body man¬dala, the consciousness-as-dakinl then turns to prepare the body
in various ways that will suit the hordes of invited guests. There are as many recipes as a gourmet restaurant has, and for as many diners. Although the specific acts of skinning and carving the body are valuable graphic experiences in body-self attachment, the real
focus here is on pleasing and satisfying the guests. (The customer comes first.) Overlapping with some of the eight guests summoned at the beginning of the ritual, Machik counts five distinct parties at this point: (i) the lamas, yidams, dakims, and dharma protectors; (z) karmic creditors; (3) beings of the six realms; (4) good local spirits; and (5) terrifying, hostile gods and demons. Each of these has
different tastes that must be satisfied individually, and so various banquets (gyed, literally “distributions”) are prepared, such as the white banquet, the red banquet, the black banquet, and the mixed banquet. The graphic liturgies of Chod evoke repugnance and resistance while one is identifying with one’s corpse, and at the same time a sort of chef s (or mother’s?) pride in the culinary masterpieces. Here
is a sample of the focus on the guests’ satisfaction from the red banquet in the Chod cycle of Troma Nagmo:
Gesturing with the curved knife in her right hand [the dakini] flays the skin, which covers the ground.
Upon that the body’s bloody flesh mass is chopped open and becomes mountains of flesh to eat,
Oceans of blood to drink,
Rock piles of bones to gnaw Hills of fat and grease to lick, Long bones and gristle to suck— A space treasury of desirables, veritable pleasure itself!7*
Kongtrul describes six different white banquets and ten different red banquets in his commentary “Grove of Pleasures.” Some of them involve slicing off the top of the head to turn it into a stew pot for the rest of the body, spreading the •skin out as a tablecloth,
charring the flesh like blackened Cajun catfish, setting out neat squares of flesh in a checkerboard skin like a sushi plate, and even putting little banners of skin on the protruding bones that are sticking out from the grease and fat, like the tiny umbrellas in tropical drinks. Machik describes a particularly luscious visualization for the gods and demons:
Imagine the corpse immediately after the breathing stops, before the warmth dissipates. It is young and plump, with smooth, soft skin and rosy, radiant flesh. It is big and brilliant, fat and oily. Think of it as pervading throughout the whole world. Just by catching sight of it, the hostile gods and demons are mentally satisfied. Coming into contact with it, their evil minds are all pacified, and deep feelings
of happiness and joy arise. Imagine the gods and demons all coming together uncontrollably like a swarm of bees in a flower grove. Then, when it’s time to give over the flesh and blood, make it still warm with the steam all wafting up and the oil of grease and fat all
slithering off, possessing a hundred excellent flavors, such as that of sea salt. The potency of its excellent trace aroma is like the smell of camphor or sandalwood, a very fine fragrance that pervades the whole world, or all the appearances of the lands surrounding the place where you are. (chapter 5)
No wonder this has caught the popular attention! What is going on here? Certainly there is an indulgence in the sensuous goriness, for whatever deep psychological catharsis that evokes. Perhaps one feels a sense of relief that the worst possible scenario is finally being
played out: death by horrible mutilation. It recalls our own inevitable death and confronts it with purpose. Rip¬ping one’s mind from its deep-rooted attachment to the body, which will die anyway, the fearless yogin of Chod takes control now and uses it for the greater good. Chagdud Rinpoche, a renowned master of the Troma Chod, explains:
During our countless lifetimes we haven’t been able to hold on to our bodies no matter how we tried. Death always intervened and changed our cherished body into a mass of decay. If we stacked all the bodies we have had since the beginning of our existence they would form a
mound larger than the earth itself. If we collected all the blood that ever ran in our veins, it would be greater than the oceans. Therefore, we resolve that this time we will not hold • on to our body. This body will be offered perfectly to the four guests and the obscuration of attachment will be purified.75
The ritual death of body-self and its resurrection as the dakinl of timeless wisdom is an obvious theme that runs through all spiritual and psychological journeys: something must die for something to be born anew. Both spiritual and actual death are featured in Chod practice because it is the power of
fear that it seeks to tap. Along with confronting the destruction of our body, there is the invocation of demons, those vicious beings that are out to harm us. The very forces that we have spent our lifetime avoiding are summoned and seduced by the selfless body-fest. This
fear is no joke, though we may make some fun of the theatrics. But it is the dakinis who are laughing. The demons may be “only in our mind,” but they look hideous enough. Anyone who has experienced hallucinations can testify to the fact that the knowledge of their illusoriness seems to cower and vanish in the face of a snarly, grisly, oozing phantom about to pounce.
This part of Chod practice is not about the theoretical understanding of emptiness that is cultivated in the prajnaparamita section; rather it is about putting that theory to the extreme test, face-to-face with whatever horrifies.
Compassion is the important part here, for it is compassion that ultimately undermines self-fixation. After the meticulous visualization of the body banquets, the practitioner imagines how each of the guests is delighted with its custom-made meal and goes home fully satiated, too full to do any harm anymore. Whatever grudges or debts they held against us are resolved. In the future, they will help and
serve. We have made friends with our demons. By invoking them, by making • them conscious, by not running away from them, and most of all by taking care of their needs, we have rendered them harmless and even helpful. If we had set out to destroy them, as in exorcisms and healing rituals, then we would have experienced only resistance, or perhaps they would have remained invisible.
The psychological parallels here hardly need comment: nearly everyone has had the experience of unconscious material such as fear becoming monstrous as long as it is kept within the deep recesses of the psyche, and then the release and resolution when it is confronted with awareness and compassion. Visualizing subjective fear in some physical form and then confronting it is a well-known therapeutic technique.
Chod certainly functions at this level and can be very useful as a therapy. It is currently being taught by some Western dharma teachers as a psychological technique for working with fear. A statement by Carl Jung could be the motto for psychologized Chod: “One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious.”
What happens in the spiritual practice of Chod? Ultimately, it is simple: the body as the illusory embodiment of the self is fed to the gods and demons as the illusory embodiment of (love and hate for) the other. Giving up the self,
it is fully imbibed in the other. Subject and object are no longer two separate entities. The whole problematic world of duality becomes eminently workable: empty while appearing, appearing and yet empty. Chod truly is an exemplary Vajrayana method for realizing the perfection of wisdom. In response to her son’s question “What is Chod?” Machik says:
In fact, there is nothing to sever;
To conquer cowardice “Chod” is explained.
When you realize that everything is mind, There is no object to be severed elsewhere.
When you realize mind itself as empty,
Severance and severer are nondual.
When you experience nonduality
There is no severing of evil, it was already cut.
It is like a thief in an empty house.76
After more feasting, dedicating the merit, and making auspicious prayers for the sake of all beings, the dakini Machik absorbs into the meditator and our whole visualized world dissolves. Not for long, the calm, cool emptiness. The practitioner arises again in the form of Avalokitesvara or Tara to continue manifesting in compassionate display.
