The Collected Works of Chögyam Trungpa: Volume Seven (65 page)

They invited us because they had neither teeth nor veins to spare for themselves,

Thinking we might provide guts and fat and flesh for them.

How amazing that we could accommodate the vajrayana world in the midst of this agitated poverty and business world.

Usually the merchants have no teeth, but they have very sharp gums;

They have no nails, but a tight grip.

Aren’t we too brave? Sometimes I wonder.

Aren’t we too cowardly? Sometimes I wonder.

Between the warrior and the coward, we find our path,

As lilies and frogs who never quarreled.

I take pride in the six smiles of the tiger

In this cuckooless world of North American atmosphere.

Spring never comes here, but autumn might be good;

In spite of the summer, we still take pleasure in the overwhelming winter:

It is a good time to practice.

May 24, 1979

Praise to the Lady of the Big Heart

FOR LILA RICH

Immeasurable space with primordial smile

Manifesting delight and beauty:

I appreciate your painful pleasure,

Our mutual humor, mutual passion, mutual goodness,

Together we ride the windhorse

With your elegant laughter echoing in all directions,

Even in the midst of a nightmare.

Your companionship, your genuine look, cause us to share our burdens together.

The great lady of the court, tireless, limitless—

I love your big heart.

I will be with you in life or death,

Along with your husband.

Cheerful birthday!

August 21, 1979

Not Deceiving the Earth (and M.S.N.)

In protecting the earth, we found good pine needles and harsh dried wood along with rocks helpful.

When you begin to examine our earth,

You find tiny mushrooms and small grass blades,

Ornamented by the chatter of ground squirrels.

You find our soil is soft and rocky;

It does not permit artificial soil topping.

Our pine trees are diligent, dedicated, and graceful;

In either life or death they will always perform their duty of pinetreeness,

Equipped with sap and bark.

We find our world of wilderness so refreshing.

Along with summer’s drum, we produce occasional thundershowers, wet and dry messages:

We can’t miss the point,

Since this earth is so bending and open to us, along with the rocks,

We are not shy,

We are so proud—

We can make a wound in a pine tree and it bleeds sap, and courts us, in spite of the setting-sun shadow;

They bend and serve so graciously, whether dead or alive.

We love our pines and rocks;

They are not covered with the superstitious setting-sun chemical manure of this and that.

We are so proud of the sky that we produce on our horizon.

Our stars twinkle and wink as if they know us;

We have no problem of recognition.

Our rocks and pine trees speak for us.

I love this soil—dusty, sandy, good, and free from astroturf:

Good earth, good grass, good pine tree, good Newton—

So good.

We love them all.

With them, we could bring about the Great Eastern Sun vision.

August 27, 1979

Rocky Mountain Dharma Center

Maestoso Drala

When we met, I felt that you were the essence of lha.

You frighten me.

If you are the agent of the lha,

Have I been corrupted too much to ride on you?

Am I worthy?

Have I been spoiled and corrupted by drinking Coca-Cola?

You accepted me so kindly,

Therefore I named you Drala.

You have the muscles of Vajrapani,

You have the neck of a true Mukpo,

You don’t walk, but you dance.

You are not my dream, you are reality—which frightens me.

You are capable of projecting the true windhorse—

Maybe I have forgotten how to ride windhorse truly.

You are kind and gentle, with extraordinary gait.

Your steps can’t be measured by the horses of Magyel Pomra.

When we held the big race in order to gain the throne of Gesar of Ling—

Do you remember?—you were there as the steed of Gyatsa.

When we swam across the river of Ma in a suit of armor,

Many comrades were killed but you were fearless;

As we forded the river—do you remember?—you came out pink

Because of your whiteness and the enemy’s blood in the water.

And you proclaimed yourself with three neighs of Ki Ki So So as a warrior horse.

When we defeated the hordes of Hor—do you remember?—you were there.

As we marched into the city of the antidharmic world,

Your gait was magnificent:

But you were so energized by the clinking of our suit of armor to kill the basic rudra,

We had to slow you down,

So that we could enter into the city in a threatening and dignified way.

When we teamed together in the cavalry,

You were there as Yuja, destroying the swiftness of the barbarians;

I remember very clearly how your white coat was stained by the blood of the enemy

As we slashed their bodies, separating the limbs from the torso.

We rode together and looted the enemy’s camp

And you were heightened with the smell of the blood that stained the sword of your rider;

You went after the enemy and we had to restrain you,

Because killing too many enemy is bad taste:

We have to conquer rather than kill them;

But your gait was wonderful, maintaining your terrifying
passage.

White as you are—we fought many times,

With your help overcoming the barbarian insurgents.

I welcome you back to my world,

European as you are, known as Maestoso bloodline:

I never betrayed you as the strength of Mukpo.

I have no doubt that you will not have any difficulty in relating with the fluttering of our victory banner and listening to our anthem,

And I am sure you will remember the trooping of the colors of our Kasung.

As you are known as Drala, maintain your arrogance.

I love you.

Be my companion, at war or in peace.

November 18, 1979

Boulder, Colo.

For the Shambhala Lodge after their gift of the white Lipizzaner Maestoso Drala.

Trooping the Color

Hold the rein of meagerness.

Ride on the saddle of forward vision.

Control the horse of uncertainty.

Make your decision with a good seat.

Our government will proceed like good cavalry.

As you ride watch out for the mole holes,

So that none of the riders fall off this victorious horse.

In short, ride the horse with profound frown and smile.

Do not forget that you have a bow on your right and a quiver on your left.

Fight this world of setting sun with a joyous war cry.

1979(?)

Drunken Elephant

Drunken elephant—

Catching mirage by net;

In the mirror of my mind I comb my hair

With the brush of samsaric absurdity.

1979

Limp and Talk

FOR RONALD STUBBER

With the vision of the Great Eastern Sun

I limp and walk slowly,

Watching my P’s and Q’s,

Working for the liberation of beings.

Once I was taking a walk;

I stumbled over something

And I discovered you—

We became good friends.

Thank you for your loyalty and understanding:

I wish you a hearty happy birthday.

1979

How to Know No

There was a giant No.

That No rained.

That No created a tremendous blizzard.

That No made a dent on the coffee table.

That No was the greatest No of No’s in the universe.

That No showered and hailed.

That No created sunshine, and simultaneous eclipse of the sun and moon.

That No was a lady’s legs with nicely heeled shoes.

That No is the best No of all.

When a gentleman smiles, a good man,

That No is the beauty of his hips.

When you watch the gait of youths as they walk with alternating cheek rhythm,

When you watch their behinds,

That No is fantastic thighs, not fat or thin but taut in their strength,

Lovable or leaveable.

That No is shoulders that turn in or expand the chest, sad or happy,

Without giving in to a deep sigh.

That No is No of all No’s.

Relaxation or restraint is in question.

Nobody knows that big No,

But we alone know that No.

This No is in the big sky, painted with sumi ink eternally.

This big No is tattooed on our genitals.

This big No is not purely freckles or birthmark,

But this big No is real big No.

Sky is blue,

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

And therefore this big No is No.

Let us celebrate having that monumental No.

The monolithic No stands up and pierces heaven;

Therefore, monolithic No also spreads vast as the ocean.

Let us have great sunshine with this No No.

Let us have full moon with this No No.

Let us have cosmic No.

The cockroaches carry little No No’s,

As well as giant elephants in African jungles—

Copulating No No and waltzing No No.

Guinea pig No No.

We find all the information and instructions when a mosquito buzzes.

We find some kind of No No.

Let our No No be the greatest motto:

No No for the king;

No No for the prime minister;

No No for the worms of our subjects.

Let us celebrate that our constipated dogs can relieve themselves freely in the name of No No.

Let us have No No so that Presbyterian preachers can have speech impediments in proclaiming No No.

Let our horses neigh No No.

Let the vajra sangha fart No No—

Giant No No that made a great imprint on the coffee table.

January 1, 1980

The Kalapa Court

Boulder, Colo.

If you know “Not” and have discipline,

Then the ultimate “No” is attained,

Patience will arise along with exertion,

And you are victorious over the maras of the setting sun.

International Affairs of 1979

UNEVENTFUL BUT ENERGY-CONSUMING

Maybe Julius Caesar was right,

Organizing straight Roman roads throughout Europe.

Had the nose of Cleopatra been a different shape,

History might have changed.

This year is quite uneventful,

Regurgitating over and over that the nations have no chance to chew and eat a good meal.

The success of Joe Clark is replacement,

Adopting dog instead of cat as house pet in the Canadian Parliament.

Farewell to Pierre Trudeau;

His invitation to visit Tibet was comparable to the second visit of Nixon to China.

The pontiff’s messages and declarations of goodwill are like having a pancake:

We know syrup will come along.

It is time for the Christians to unite:

Maybe the clean-shaven Catholics could join with the bearded Eastern church.

Margaret Thatcher’s prime ministership was frightening,

But turns out to be not so feisty.

We are reassured that she decided to wear a skirt as opposed to trousers—

What a relief.

Tories always tame ladies,

And the Liberals and Labor party wish they had a she-leader who could wear riding breeches.

However, England will be always England:

When she is sad, she becomes tough;

When she is tough, she becomes soft.

Good old glory is fading,

And now they refer to the kingdom as ruled by Britannia, as opposed to Elizabeth the Second.

We are sad at the death of Uncle Dicky;