Before you reincarnate, be sure to apply for a certificate of approval. Recently, China passed a new law that bans Lamas, or monks, from reincarnating without permission from the central Chinese government.

As reported on ABC News, “the Chinese government described the new law as an ‘important move to institutionalize the management of reincarnation of Living Buddhas.’”

Now, I had a bittersweet chuckle over this when the story broke in August. But it occurs to me that the Chinese government’s naked and outlandish power grab is not so different in kind from what goes on here in the West with our mania for spiritual accomplishment certificates, accreditations, and spiritual business consultants, alliances and governing boards.

Just yesterday, I had occasion to call someone I have never met. This person’s voice mail informed me quite crisply and confidently that its owner is a “certified personal effectiveness coach.”

Today we have “licensed” Tantra Goddesses, copyrighted yoga poses, and just about every weekend workshop one goes to offers some kind of pocket-lining, career-boosting mini-degree or certificate.

Does this have anything to do with spiritual accomplishment? With Self-realization?

Here in the U.S., most students view teachers as vendors, education as knowledge for sale, and a degree or certificate as a license to repackage and resell the goods one has bought in the education marketplace.

We have nearly totally lost any sense of what it means to apprentice to a teacher and a tradition. We are imprisoned in a world of calculation, personal boundaries, and goals. The open, spacious, experimental quality of true spiritual practice entirely eludes most of us.

One of the most prevalent symptoms of this is the fact that students always want to know in advance what they are going to get for their time and money.

Every teacher I have had, including one or two of the great Siddhas of our time, has complained that students demand an accounting of the spiritual goods prior to “investing” in coming to a particular teaching. Generally, teachers eventually comply to these demands out of compassion for students who would otherwise miss opportunities to escape their own ignorance.

So, even the greatest teachers, those whose mere presence is a revelation, publish detailed course outlines in order to satisfy the misapprehension that any course outline could actually tell you in advance what you are going to get from a true teacher.

Students not only mistake some words on a page or a computer screen for a real account of what is going to happen in a teaching situation, but they also make the (false) assumption that they actually know exactly what they need to learn and can identify that thing.

Sitting with an accomplished being is not the same as going to a Chinese restaurant. In the latter instance, you can be pretty sure what you are going to get. In the former, you absolutely do not.

Thirty odd years ago, a friend of mine who is now himself a respected teacher, invited an extremely accomplished Lama to come to the U.S. and teach for the first time. The Lama insisted that the publicity for the teaching include no description of the exact nature of the subject matter and also no mention of the Lama’s name. My friend tried to explain that this would result in no one attending, but the Lama was adamant. Only a handful of people showed up. The Lama was apparently content.

Who would show up at a teaching whose topic was not announced? Or even more surprising, one whose teacher was not named?

Well, it might be a person with good spiritual instincts. Someone who has caught a glimpse of life’s openness and spontaneity and who wants to enter into that. Someone no longer entertained by the limited game of “knowing.” Someone longing for a true teacher, beyond name. Someone willing to risk a lot more than just a week’s time and a bit of money for the chance of encountering one.

Perhaps this is the kind of student the Lama wished to teach.

Spiritual institutions, accreditations, and advertising of lineage and experience have their place. And it is not wise to opt out of a system just because it is a system. There is no rule for all circumstances.

At their best, these foster and preserve practitioners, communities, and traditions. At their worst, they are just another means of perpetuating limitation and fixation.

But no law, institution, degree, or pedigree can ever replace, manage, or market the natural and indestructible process of Self-realization.

There is really nothing at all to fear. It’s just a matter of how quickly or slowly, in our experience as limited beings, we will let go.

In Matriseva,
Shambhavi