3.1.12. Trekchö

“Mind is empty by nature, clear by its very essence, and unimpeded in its display.
Recognise this, and you are free.”
— Longchen Rabjam, from the Treasury of the Dharmadhātu

It feels almost tender to arrive here, at this gentle precipice. The journey so far has carried us through careful distinctions and cultivated practices — each peeling away another layer of illusion. Now we come to a teaching that is simple, abrupt, and infinitely deep: Trekchö, meaning “cutting through.” In truth, it cuts through all we have constructed so far, not by force, but by revealing how little there ever was to cut. Let us walk this narrow bridge together, with quiet hearts.

I reflect often on how swiftly the alchemist’s path seems to run, especially when compared to the long road of the Bodhisattva on the Mahāyāna. If the Great Work — the creation and purification of the Philosopher’s Stone — truly unfolds in a single life, it is indeed an accelerated undertaking.

Yet remembering the Diamond Sutra, I smile. There are ultimately no Bodhisattvas or Alchemists outside our conceptual labels. These are gentle pointers, poetic markers for a deeper, ineffable process. It helps to recall this. When tales speak of lifetimes of sacrifice, or of Bodhisattvas enduring unspeakable torments with unwavering patience, we need not compare ourselves. For some of us, patience might look no grander than returning to a difficult workplace with compassion intact.

The alchemist, like the Bodhisattva, may by now have dissolved much spontaneous ill-will, cultivating considerable inner composure. Still, such a one stands far from the unshakeable peace of a Buddha.

The three vehicles

So far, we have touched on the Hīnayāna — the “lesser vehicle,” though more generously understood as the solitary vehicle. It ferries practitioners from stream-enterer (sotāpanna) to arahant, offering individual liberation from saṃsāra. Enlightenment arises here, yes, but it is not yet the vast, mirror-like awakening of a fully enlightened Buddha.

Then comes the Mahāyāna, the “great vehicle,” the path of the Bodhisattva. It resonates closely with our work: a long road, spanning countless existences, gradually perfecting the pāramīs (virtues) to clear away afflictive and cognitive obstructions.

Lastly stands the Vajrayāna — the diamond or thunderbolt vehicle. In many ways, it feels most akin to our alchemical pursuit: a path that promises both liberation and complete Buddhahood within a single lifetime. Where Mahāyāna grows naturally from the Bodhisattva’s vow, Vajrayāna refines it with a luminous science, accelerating realisation through direct methods.

Occult approaches and cutting through

These more esoteric approaches often appear in Tibetan Buddhism, though not exclusively. They incorporate Mahāyāna foundations, then use ritual, mantra, vivid visualisations of light-formed deities, or even practices like chöd — ritual “cannibalism” of the skandhas (aggregates) to sever attachment, not unlike Christianity’s symbolic consumption of the body of Christ.

For the highest understanding, the Uttaratantra Śāstra offers startling directness. Here, a master delivers “pointing out instructions” (gar thig or tsig pa), cutting through all mental obscurations. This is Trekchö — literally “cutting that which binds.”

Even the story of the Uttaratantra is extraordinary. It is not a sūtra spoken by Śākyamuni, but a śāstra — a treatise said to be transmitted by Maitreya, the next Buddha. Its revelation carries almost an apocalyptic resonance. The monk who received it spent years in failed meditation until, finding a dog dying from infestation, he sliced his own flesh to give the maggots a living place. Then Maitreya appeared — not as a heavenly being, but as that very dog. Only through selfless sacrifice could the transmission begin.

Seeing mind with mind

The essence of this teaching is remarkably simple: we are trapped because mind sees only its own creations — the skandhas of form, feeling, perception, mental formations, and consciousness. It beholds conditioned reality and believes it final. If for even an instant we could let mind see pure mind, enlightenment would dawn.

But here lies the paradox. We cannot try to do this, for trying agitates mind. Nor can we refuse to try, for that too is a subtle effort. Ultimately, we must learn the art of profound effortlessness — even forgetting that we seek anything at all. It is perhaps the most delicate challenge of this path, though like so much here, it grows gentler with time.

Gradual and sudden

In this course, we explore both gradual methods — carefully removing each obstruction across the bhūmis (stages) — and the sudden, effortless recognitions of Trekchö. Together, they aim to reveal what stands between our present awareness and the luminous mind of a Tathāgata.

If you sense the magnitude of this, you might see why all our meticulous work thus far is, in a way, ultimately dispensable. We stand together at the threshold of abandoning everything we know. It sounds dramatic, I know — but only until we realise that “mind” itself is just another concept.

So breathe. Smile. The path lies directly before you. You have come so far already.

Trekchö invites us to let go of striving, of constructing, of even the subtle idea that there is something to be attained. It is the simple, startling practice of recognising mind with mind — which, in a single instant, could dissolve all of saṃsāra. Until then, we walk gently, learning both the craft of gradual refinement and the freedom of effortless release.

This text is excerpted from the upcoming book Citrinitas: A Course in Modern Alchemy. The complete volume will include additional study guides, glossaries, and extended teachings. Learn more about the book here.