The Collected Works of Chögyam Trungpa: Volume Seven (62 page)

Sadat is trying to trick the world but stepping on the dogshit of Arab manure.

Madame Mao with her coyote true-believing hunting expedition has been caught by the suburbian Hua.

Deng Xiaoping is resurrected like the Christ and planning capitalized Communism.

Moscow proclaims its steady Kremlin victory, which was won sixty years ago.

Brezhnev half-dead thinking that he is a good huntsman and the greatest general in the world,

Choking with Stalinist nostalgia,

Nixon dead corpse has made American statesman into Carter embarrassment;

Maybe George Washington did lie occasionally.

Human rights program is not all that religious, since nobody in the world believes in true-believing anymore.

Jimmy cardigan approach does not work in conflict with Congress’s suit and tie.

Trudeau trumpet did not provide fanfare for the Quebecois because one note was missing—

The French homemade folk song.

Hong Kong cannot be repossessed because the Chinese fear unity between U.S. and U.K.

Japan cannot make Australasia connections because they felt a bad slap after the Second World War;

Sony and Mitsubishi might save their own lives, but they are doubtfully courageous.

German boldness is hooha, yet good living in the Deutschland provides a reason to be against the North Sea oil of the U.K.

France like a drunken sheep perpetually propagates François;

Giscard posing with his daughter for a campaign portrait worked, but dining with citizens seemed to end quite abruptly.

MIG Mirage Phantom and the vertical takeoff of the English do not work in the sale of arms because Arabs have lopsided the purchase.

Maybe King Hussein is the shrewdest customer for all these things;

But since Hussein is questionably sane or not, no doubt the Russians will do double takes on all this.

Burma’s Ne Win feels that he is able to contain the Buddhists while courting socialism by being polite to the Chinese.

The Cambodian Prince is whispering about his royal position in the country, while his activities are proscribed by the party of the delirious generals and the circumcised party members.

Madame Mao had a slight problem, to say the least, when she tried to ban classical Chinese opera.

Rhodesians try to compensate by being good and bad at the same time, with seeming kind hatred to their natives.

South Africa is cooped up with a big gun and no one to shoot except the wall where the gun is;

Black majority means that soul food might be tastier than roast beef and Yorkshire pudding.

Britain experiences cosmic shock with the problem of existence and nonexistence—

The only saving grace is Her Majesty the Queen in marketing her underpants,

Which might work for a while, but still is questionable:

Will Charles be referred to as Chuck?

Kingdom of Spain:

Carlos has his own tortilla—to make his mind up about jumping to the conclusion of the Communists;

It is uncertain whether he is the tortilla or the leftists are his tortilla—

Being too good does not help;

Generalissimo has no doubt appeared to Carlos many times in vision after his death.

Mongolians in Ulan Bator have felt that as long as they kept with the Russians they were safe,

But their nerve center has begun to leak to the Chinese People’s Republic;

It would be much better for them to milk horses as they have done:

Good cheese might come out of that.

And what about the United Nations?

We begin to feel the United Nations is not even a great apple strudel.

The United Nations is shortcake;

It is well-cooked seafood without wasabi.

The United Nations is a well-brewed nonexistent alcohol that nobody will drink.

However, union of nations might provide some hope and fear so that we could actually respect it as more than a buffer,

As Baha’ullah would say.

The United Nations seems to be a garbage chute;

The United Nations is a dilettante true believer in the world’s unity;

The United Nations is a giant building in New York City, but nobody knows what’s happening inside;

On the whole we could say the United Nations is pampas grass that grows around a Japanese garden.

There is no reason to criticize, because the United Nation’s doesn’t provoke any bravery;

The United Nations is a gentleman’s underpants: nobody dares to criticize or cultivate;

The United Nations is good theory but not good practice;

The United Nations provides good school, but naughty children can throw ink blops at the teacher while having no basic unity.

Jimmy Carter gave a splendid talk at the United Nations;

Khrushchev pounded his shoe on the desk;

Idi Amin vomited his rhetoric at the General Assembly;

The Pope sanctified the United Nations, telling them that peace and godliness are the only way;

The Dalai Lama was rejected by the United Nations.

Flying the colors of all the countries, the United Nations looks heroic and beautiful,

But its own blue and white feels gray and beige.

Receiving the complaints of all countries, the United Nations becomes a polite wasteland.

Since the absence of U Thant the United Nations is a fish-and-chip shop where all nations are expected to add sugar instead of vinegar.

In this case, the world is ending—

What shall we do about it?

Let us bring the Great Eastern Sun, with or without the United Nations.

Let us have champagne breakfasts celebrating the rising sun.

Hail to the Union of Nations!

Hail to the Union of Nations!

Hail to the Union of Nations!

December 1977

Charlemont, Mass.

One Sound

One sound

Thousand ripples—

Taizan jumps in the sand.

December 1977

Dixville Notch

PURRINGTON HOUSE (AND C.F.)

A glowing worm is said to be brilliant,

But the brilliant sun is more convincing;

Sweet smile seems to be the best,

But genuine affection is more convincing.

When I was riding with you

On that winding road of our mutual snow mountain,

You said, “Oops!”

I said, “What?”

Nonetheless we are both fascinated and intrigued by our mutual trip,

Fueled by immense passion and a glowing sense of humor.

We might find snowdrops somewhere:

You said you didn’t like the melting snow,

You said you liked the fresh snow—

I was intrigued by the way your constructive mind worked.

While gazing at an icicle,

At first a little one on its way, melting,

You then discovered that little one becoming bigger:

Such rediscovery of the phenomenal world and appreciation of detail—

Indra and Brahma and Avalokiteshvara

Would have found this appreciation so sweet and glowing.

When we met,

You were merely there;

When we talked,

You were tongue-tied.

And again when we met,

You were more than there;

When we talked,

You were very articulate.

Our mutual guess became like the dance of the dragonfly:

You guessed,

I guessed;

Did anybody guess?

Did anyone guess?

Sometimes one wonders whether we should give away this mutual secret to anybody.

Spring gives way to summer

And summer gives way to autumn;

Autumn gives way to winter:

Then we are back to square one,

Watching icicles again.

When you are attacked by this and that,

You should hold the needle of nowness

Threaded with our mutual passion.

When you are hungry and fearful of the small big world,

You should look at the Great Eastern Sun

With the eye of our mutual passion.

When you are lonely,

You should beat the drum of sanity

With the stick of our mutual passion.

When you feel awkward,

You should drink the sake of confidence

With the lips of our mutual passion.

When you feel you are nobody,

You should hold the falcon of great humor

With the hand of our mutual passion.

When you feel spoiled,

You should fly the banner of genuineness

With the wind of our mutual passion.

You should have no problem in propagating our mutual passion—

As long as, or as short as,

A journey’s been made

In the name of the biggest or the smallest,

Which transcends eruption of stomach.

Peacock magpie wolf

Rattlesnakes equipped with antennae

Jackal polar bear shaggy dog

Taj Mahal

Good wasabi

Chicken feet

Rothman’s Special—

All of these, wicked and workable, are our world.

Including all those there is no problem,

Whether the so-called phenomenal world is sweet or sour, painful or pleasurable.

We should make sure that we do not put them in the oven

And make a convenient loaf of bread of them.

Let us not regard the world as one,

Or, for that matter, let us not regard the world as multiple.

As long as we dance and sing, sweep the floor, wash the dirty dishes,

And celebrate in the name of satin silk diamond ruby emerald and pearls,

Fresh water clinking with ice,

We are producing rich cold powerful ideal world,

With a touch of warmness:

Let us project to this universe our mutual passion.

If I may go further:

We are not deaf, not dumb,

We are not mute.

We are the world’s best possible goodness—

Outspoken, exaggerated, understated fanfare,

With the goodness of goodness.

The wicked will tremble and the good will celebrate:

Impossibility is accomplished in the realm of possibility—

Fathomless space being measured,

Depth of passion being explored.

Let us eat snail adorned with fortune cookies;

Let us drink amrita fizzed with our mutual humor.

Let us ride the horse of delightful disestablished world,

Saddled with our mutual passion.

Did you know the sun rises in the east?

Don’t believe those who tell you that the sun rises in the west.

Shall we have our mutual celebration?

One who fights is eternally poor;

One who shares is victorious:

Let us celebrate in our mutual passion.

March 21, 1978

Afterthought

Such a precious human body,

Difficult to rediscover;

Such precious pain,

Not difficult to discover;

Such an old story

Is by now a familiar joke.

You and I know the facts and the case history;

We have a mutual understanding of each other

Which has never been sold or bought by anyone.

Our mutual understanding keeps the thread of sanity.

Sometimes the thread is electrified,

Sometimes it is smeared with honey and butter;

Nevertheless, we have no regrets.

Since I am here,

Seemingly you are here too.

Let us practice!

Sitting is a jewel that ornaments our precious life.

March 21, 1978

Anniversary

You have performed goodness and genuineness.

You have lived up to the standard of genuine son.

Your chuckle has turned out to be great humor.

Your bravery is better than garuda’s cry.

I appreciate your being as a real person.

As much as we celebrate,

You should join the tiger lion garuda dragon dignities.

Your icicle is good and your fire is magnificent.

Your meaningful smiles have turned out to be chariots

Which will bring along the Great Eastern Sun.

March 22, 1978

Dixville Notch, N.H.

Written at Seminary to celebrate Sawang Ösel Mukpo’s coming of age.

Don’t Confuse This for Trick-or-Treat

Those who sit

Shouldn’t be cowards,

Those who sit

Shouldn’t be tricky,

Those who sit

Shouldn’t be resourceful,

Those who sit

Should be basic people

Who sit—

But no tricks of

Tricky

Fuzzy

Jumpy

Creepy

Thinking

Funny:

Sitters in the buddhadharma world

Should be decent.

I met a sitter who said

She could build the Buddhist version of Disneyland—

If we would permit her not to sit for at least forty-five minutes.

I met a sitter who said,

“I could ape like a monkey, growl like a tiger;

I could huff and puff and get lots of money for Vajradhatu—

If you would permit me not to sit for at least forty-five minutes.”

I met a sitter who shrieked like a loon,

Who said,

“I don’t like what’s going on. I never did.

Either I have room to fix things up or I’ll quit.

In any case,
I
want to be acknowledged—

If you would permit me not to sit for at least forty-five minutes.”

I met a sitter who is a foogy-doogy owl,

Who said,

“Come to think of it,