In the following, I will examine the relational landscape that unfolds between teacher and student when one moves a little deeper into a spiritual process.
As a basis for the study, I base my work on what I have learned through 35 years of study in Tibetan Buddhism, perspectived by my own (and other practitioners') lived experiences. 

This text is simultaneously published on The Growth Center's resource page.

 

 

The desire to find a teacher

When you have an interest or a passion and you want to deepen your knowledge of it, most people will at some point be happy to find a teacher. Someone who has come a little further than you within the given field of interest, and who can show you the way.
For example, when you want to learn to play an instrument, you may initially be able to get by with books and instructional videos – but if you want to go deeper, most people will need additional guidance.
One way could be to participate in group lessons and find joy and nourishment in it. Another option is to find someone – if you are lucky in the local area – who can teach you personally.
A learning process may have a natural time limit. As the student improves, the demands on the quality of the teaching and the ability of the teacher will increase.
This may make it necessary, after a while, to search for a new teacher or mentor, one who can further precisely help the learner unfold their talent and training.
A similar process can also take place in study environments, for example if you are interested in anthropology. In that case, you might first find a university and study in a group. After which you might receive further individual guidance towards your master's degree.
If you continue with a PhD, you will typically become more closely associated with a supervisor or mentor.

The Hungarian-English physical chemist, sociologist and philosopher of science, Michael Polanyi, who has made crucial contributions to theoretical physics, chemistry and economics, among other things, was concerned in his work on the philosophy of science with how advanced knowledge is passed on. His view of science was that 'most young people learn nothing but the orthodoxy of science (...) only when one begins to discover the uncertainties and eternal provisional nature of science (...) is it brought to life'. 'Becoming a scientist requires', wrote Polanyi, 'a full initiation'. Such an initiation comes through 'close personal contact with the personal scientific worldview and practice of a recognized master.' Practicing science is not in itself science; science is an art that is transmitted from the master to the student just as painting is transmitted or as the skills and traditions of law or medicine are transmitted. One cannot learn the laws of science from classroom teaching alone or from books.'‘^[1]

 

The spiritual guide

The same need for living guidance will often, perhaps always when the practitioner's motivation has reached a certain depth, arise in connection with meditation, contemplation and spirituality. Here one also finds different levels of relationships between the teacher and the practitioner, depending on how deep the interest is and how much energy one is prepared to invest in one's search. In the following, it is these learning processes and depths of personal contact that we will focus on. Here in the West, we have limited experience with how the teacher-student relationship unfolds on a spiritual path. At the same time, it is a theme that more and more practitioners come into contact with as one deepens the movement into the contemplative landscape.

 

When I first became interested in spiritual development, it was with the Tibetan version of Buddhism in mind. There I encountered a teaching that made a big impression on me:
 
If you see your teacher as a friend, then you will receive the blessing of a friend.
If you see your teacher as a spiritual guide, you will receive the blessing of a spiritual guide.
And if you see your teacher as a buddha, you get the blessing of a buddha.
 
At that time I did not know what blessing was, nor what it meant to see one's teacher as a Buddha. But the phrase made an impression on me, and although I did not understand or recognize its deeper meaning myself, I had an intuitive feeling that behind this phrase lay something of crucial importance. I could feel that being able to "see one's teacher as a Buddha" was a place I really wanted to go.
Shortly after, I met my first teacher, the Tibetan meditation teacher Jamgön Kongtrul Rinpoche, who I had heard beforehand was a communicator of a very special format.

It was in the monastery of Rumtek, in Sikkim, in the Himalayas of Northern India.
I remember one day when he was teaching, thinking that I was lucky that I didn't have to work on seeing him as a Buddha because, to me in that situation, he already felt like one.
Jamgön Kongtrul died, just three months after our first conversation – and that was the beginning of a long journey of finding another teacher or instructor that I could lean on and be guided by in my spiritual process.
I feel that those years and that search have helped me to a more nuanced understanding of the implications of the many different ways of relating to a spiritual teacher, which unfold somewhat differently than the more general learning processes that we know here in the West.

 

Three ways to view and meet the spiritual teacher

In what I will now try to describe about spiritual training and teacher-student relationships, some aspects can be easily transferred to our Western way of understanding the world. Other parts, which are more culturally rooted in, for example, an Eastern worldview, are more difficult to transfer to our culture – and may, along the way, need to be replaced by more modern and non-dogmatic ways of describing things.

To help you unravel the nuances of your relationship with a spiritual teacher, I will start with the three ways to relate to a spiritual guide that I mentioned in the quote above:
 
· An elder, a friend
· A spiritual guide
· A dedicated and individual spiritual teacher
 
This is an example of a way that the Buddhist tradition sometimes uses to outline the teacher relationship.

Here is a bit of context and background to look at it, and I hasten to warn that the following attempt to describe in short and simple form doctrinal structures that are each colossal will inevitably be greatly simplified.
 
Traditionally, the spiritual landscape is divided into three stages, also called vessels because they transport us on the path of practice through life.
 
In the first stage, called Hinayana (translation of the Sanskrit word, 'the narrow' or 'small' path), one works to remove oneself from and diminish the unwholesome aspects of the mind – and cultivate the more wholesome aspects. The methods for this are primarily based on ethics and discipline – and a measure of abstinence or voluntary renunciation.
In this tradition, you will typically find a teacher who is older than you, someone who has gone a little further along the path, and who you experience has stood up well and constructively to challenges and situations similar to those you yourself face.
 
In the second stage, called Mahayana (translation of the Sanskrit word, 'the great vessel'), there is not necessarily a movement away from inappropriate aspects of the mind. Instead, one tries to work more transformatively with one's circumstances. This is done, among other things, by trying not to push away the unwanted parts of the mind's content, and in the same way, to refrain from attaching to mind content that is experienced as attractive. Instead, one cultivates a loving, spacious and neutral attitude towards all mind content.

In the Mahayana tradition, a teacher figure is often referred to as a spiritual friend or guide, a kind of expert if you will, who you experience as having knowledge about aspects of the practices and qualities you would like to develop and work with.
The methods of Mahayana build on the ethics and discipline of Hinayana and also always include an element of working to increase our capacity for heart feelings, such as love, compassion, gratitude, kindness, care, etc.
 
In the third stage, called Vajrayana (translation of the Sanskrit word 'diamond vessel'), which in turn builds on Mahayana, the emphasis in practice has shifted from gradually transforming the emotions and other contents of the mind, to a more radical transcendence of all phenomena of consciousness. One does not cultivate particular contents of the mind, one does not try to change or do anything differently. Instead, one tries to equally accommodate all aspects of the mind, allowing all polarities or opposites simultaneously, and then trying to discover the place where the differences meet and are the same in their essence.
 

We in the West know something about how we relate to teachers in general, that is, at the beginning stages of the teaching process. For example, most of us can remember having had a good relationship with a primary school teacher or perhaps a coach or leader. That way of relating can in a sense be equated with the way one would relate to a teacher in the first of the above stages, Hinayana.
It is my experience from the groups I have met and worked with that many of us who become interested in meditation, perhaps most of us, quite quickly need a teacher who can teach in this way. Someone who has a good deal of experience with the meditations or contemplative practices that we find attractive or relevant, and who can competently introduce us to their use.
 
If you have the courage to take your practice further, that is, if you want to work more purposefully on improving and deepening your contact inwardly – with yourself – and thus also your contact with other people and your surroundings, then it may be appropriate – and often experienced as necessary – to find a teacher who has both studied the practices more thoroughly, who has personal experience with them, and in whom you have enough trust to establish a constructive learning space. This is to ensure that you can get help to clarify your practice and, if possible, get individual adjustments.
This way of approaching presence practice – or a spiritual practice – can, if we look again at the model of the three vessels, with a little good will resemble the way one relates to a Mahayana teacher.
If we compare it to a more common type of relationship, one can think of the way we relate to our therapist, psychologist or coach. The relationship here is often of a more personal nature than with a school or high school teacher. Typically, at this more advanced stage, one will attach oneself to one or perhaps a couple of teachers at a time, and only change when one experiences that it can be beneficial to work in other ways or through other methods than those that one's current teachers are best at.
  
The last category, the Vajrayana teacher, we in Western culture do not have many living examples or role models for how to relate to. But we can look at Polanyi's description above where the examples of how very deep transfers of knowledge and skill within science and art take place, and see that there are apparently a number of coincidences with the way in which Vajrayana works with it.

 

The landscape beyond personality – the crucial importance of trust 

For practitioners who have a deeper longing into the transpersonal – into the landscape where focus shifts from the contents of the mind to its true essence – and who wish to begin a journey into this realm, one will inevitably at some point encounter the need to find a teacher who can help one in this complex landscape.
You need to find someone who has sufficient experience and immersion, someone who has had direct experience of the true essence of the mind, and who can be seen to be able to guide others to orient themselves towards this essence.
Such a relationship resembles an extended or more advanced master/apprentice relationship, such as that which Polanyi describes as certain scientists, musicians, and other artists may have as role models and mentors.
Because there is a lot of asymmetry built into such relationships, they can unfortunately easily be mistaken for oppression from the outside – and from the inside, they risk inviting abuse.
To enter into such a relationship with a teacher is to enter into a complicated structure. Which could conceivably be part of the reason why we don't see such relationships very often in Western culture. Furthermore – for we know, from the Eastern Church, Catholic mysticism and also from both artisanal and artistic teacher-student relationships that such deep personal transmission relationships have also existed in the West – and that they have often been managed discreetly.

Experience shows that it can be difficult to achieve a deeper spiritual teacher-student relationship. Should it succeed – which fortunately it does not rarely do – then both parties, both teacher and student, must go through a process where one sees whether sufficient sobriety, transparency and trust can be built for a process of immersion to make sense.
This is necessary because otherwise you risk falling into one of two pitfalls: Either you have too much blind trust and follow the teacher's instructions, even if they are not appropriate. Or you have too little trust and become sceptical and defensive when the teacher questions and challenges the more fixed parts of your self-structure.
Neither of these two situations is helpful in the transpersonal landscape, which in itself can, in long stretches, be both complicated and confusing to navigate.

It may be relevant to remember that in Buddhism it is said that such a teacher-student relationship typically takes twelve years to establish, and that even when the relationship is established, one continues to be aware of whether the trust is deepening. The student examines the teacher and the teacher examines the student.

In the last conversation I had with Jamgon Kontrul Rinpoche, he pointed out a practice he thought could be beneficial for me.
And suggested that I seek out the respected teacher Tenga Rinpoche in Kathmandu for further instructions.
After Jamgon Kongtrul's death – and his designation of Tenga Rinpoche as a possible teacher for me – it felt natural to continue the learning process with him. Over the following years, a deep, warm and very meaningful relationship developed for me with Tenga Rinpoche. And yet there was a feeling that something was missing.
The natural openness and affection I had felt for Jamgon Kongtrul did not flow in the same way with Tenga Rinpoche.
It had absolutely nothing to do with him.
Tenga Rinpoche was in every way the best teacher I could imagine. But it didn't quite click with me, there was always a small reservation, in the heart or perhaps in the nervous system.
Over the years, I thought that this reservation was something I should overcome. So I sought out Tenga Rinpoche and formally asked him if he would be my teacher.
”I would like to – if that's how you feel,” he replied.
In this very nice way, he pointed out that the doubt and reservations were within me – and that it was something I had to resolve myself.

The qualities one looks for in a teacher in the more transpersonal context of Vajrayana are very precisely described in the traditional Buddhist texts.
If these descriptions are brought into a Western context, they can be summarized as the teacher being authentic and transparent in his actions, that the teacher walks the talk, is ethical and proper, and sincerely concerned with the well-being and spiritual development of others, especially his or her students. And then, of course, that the teacher has the ability to help both himself or herself and others.
In deeper forms of meditation, all perceptions, thoughts, ideas and identifications are content in the mind that stand in the way of seeing the true nature of the mind.
To authentically transcend one's many and divergent notions, one must be ready to completely let go of and let go of all the ideas one has about oneself and the inner and outer world.
From experience, this requires a very deep trust.
And it requires an authentic teacher who can accommodate this trust and use it constructively within such a transpersonal landscape.

The Eastern way of describing these profound experiences points to the importance of knowing where in the spiritual landscape one finds oneself, and thereby how one can most appropriately relate to those one leans on and learns from.
Such attunement in the teacher relationship is naturally linked to a greater opportunity to cultivate clarity about what one wants with one's practice - and sobriety in relation to where one finds oneself in the spiritual landscape as a practitioner.
It can therefore be beneficial from time to time to take a close look at what the motivation for one's meditative practice really is, what one wants to achieve, and what one longs for. To examine whether one feels one has adequate methods and instructions, and whether one experiences that there are resources, inspiration, or help that could be constructively involved.
If you can roughly identify that you are moving in one of the above landscapes, and approximately where you are, you can use that as inspiration for what type of teacher-teacher relationship it has traditionally proven appropriate to enter into in that place.

 

I am aware that it may risk sounding technical and mental. It is of course important in spiritual relationships, as in all deeper relationships, to think about, to use one's intelligence and creativity and resources – one's common sense. And then there is apparently also, in finding and relating to a teacher for a more in-depth practice relationship, an irrational component. Will and rationale are not quite enough, the whole heart and its often irrational and inexplicable approach must also swing along. One can perhaps also sense this from the account of my meeting with Tenga Rinpoche and the description of the unfolding of that relationship.

 

It took 20 years  

It took twenty years before I met a new teacher.
In the first years I was very actively searching, but as the years went by I became more relaxed, perhaps even a little resigned.
It was many, long years. During that time, I missed a personal relationship where the trust was deep enough to be able to support myself in the more challenging, deeper parts of the inner practice landscape.
I searched in vain for 20 years in countless monasteries in India, Nepal and Tibet.
So it was – to put it mildly compared to how it feels – somewhat surprising to me that when I found my teacher, it was on the Jutland ridge.
It's now fourteen years since I met Jes Bertelsen. And the Growth Center.
I can now say that it is also my experience that the deeper process of inquiry between teacher and student can easily last twelve years or more before the relationship can become sufficiently deep and trusting.

Buddhism is, at its core, in my opinion, neither religious nor dogmatic. It describes, in its purest form, a possible way to approach the true essence of the mind, an essence that one could say is the same in all living things and that we all have the opportunity to let our attention approach and experience. Without saying that it is easy or simple.
I experience that in its innermost views it is free from dogma and rules. That its practices and attitude and understanding of the relationship between body, heart and consciousness can be practiced without leaning too much into a belief system.
I also experience such undogmatic freedom in and around Jes Bertelsen and the Growth Center's approach to spirituality.
This, this undogmatic freedom and respect for the path and individuality of the individual practitioner, is part of what makes me love these two pedagogies so much, the Buddhist one in the form I know from my training in the East, and then the Growth Center's. To me, they resemble each other in many ways, in their undogmatic, liberated essence.
I find that both approaches point to the value of having one's own experiences as a practitioner and having an experimental, investigative, and descriptive approach to practice and life. Perhaps one could call it approaching things with a "scientific" precision. To find one's own way, with the help of a spiritual friend, a guide, mentor or teacher.
To get ready to walk the path yourself.

 

¹Richard Rhodes The making of the atomic bomb, New York 2012 (1986) p. 32.