Read The Collected Works of Chögyam Trungpa: Volume Five Online
Authors: Chögyam Trungpa
And attain the experience of maha ati.
HUM HUM HUM
O Karmapa, lord and knower of the three times,
O Padmakara, father and protector of all beings,
You transcend all coming and going.
Understanding this, I call upon you—
Give thought to your only son.
I am a credulous and helpless animal
Who has been fooled by the mirage of duality.
I have been fool enough to think that I possess my own projections,
So now you, my father, are my only refuge;
You alone can grasp the buddha state.
The glorious copper-colored mountain is within my heart.
Is not this pure and all-pervading naked mind your dwelling place?
Although I live in the slime and muck of the dark age,
I still aspire to see it.
Although I stumble in the thick, black fog of materialism,
I still aspire to see it.
The joy of spontaneous awareness, which is with me all the time,
Is not this your smiling face, O Karma Padmakara?
Although I live in the slime and muck of the dark age,
I still aspire to see it.
Although I stumble in the thick, black fog of materialism,
I still aspire to see it.
At glorious Taktsang, in the cave
Which can accommodate everything,
Samsara and nirvana both,
The heretics and bandits of hope and fear
Are subdued and all experiences
Are transformed into crazy wisdom.
Is not this your doing, O Dorje Trolö?
Although I live in the slime and muck of the dark age,
I still aspire to see your face.
Although I stumble in the thick, black fog of materialism,
I still aspire to see your face.
The corpse, bloated with the eight worldly concerns,
Is cut into pieces by the knife of detachment
And served up as the feast of the great bliss.
Is not this your doing, O Karma Pakshi?
Although I live in the slime and muck of the dark age,
I still aspire to see your face.
Although I stumble in the thick, black fog of materialism,
I still aspire to see your face.
In the boundless space of nonmeditation
He who performs the great dance of mahamudra
Puts a stop to thoughts
So that all acts become the acts of the guru.
Is not this your doing, O Tüsum Khyenpa?
Although I live in the slime and muck of the dark age,
I still aspire to see your face.
Although I stumble in the thick, black fog of materialism,
I still aspire to see your face.
When the current of thoughts is self-liberated
And the essence of dharma is known,
Everything is understood
And apparent phenomena
Are all the books one needs.
Is not this your doing, omniscient Mikyö Dorje?
Although I live in the slime and muck of the dark age,
I still aspire to see your face.
Although I stumble in the thick, black fog of materialism,
I still aspire to see your face.
The kingdom of no-dharma, free from concepts,
Is discovered within the heart.
Here there is no hierarchy of different stages
And the mind returns to its naked state.
Is not this your doing, O Rangjung Dorje?
Although I live in the slime and muck of the dark age,
I still aspire to see your face.
Although I stumble in the thick, black fog of materialism,
I still aspire to see your face.
The father guru, the embodiment of all the siddhas,
Is all-seeing and all-pervading.
Wherever you look, his transparent body is there,
And the power of his blessing can never be diminished.
Although I live in the slime and muck of the dark age,
I still aspire to see his face.
Although I stumble in the thick, black fog of materialism,
I still aspire to see his face.
Living, as I do, in the dark age,
I am calling upon you, because I am trapped
In this prison, without refuge or protector.
The age of the three poisons has dawned
And the three lords of materialism have seized power.
This is the time of hell on earth;
Sadness is always with us
And unceasing depression fills our minds.
The search for an external protector
Has met with no success.
The idea of a deity as an external being
Has deceived us, led us astray.
Counting on friends has brought nothing
But sorrow and insecurity.
So now I have no other refuge
But you, Karma Pakshi, the lotus-born.
Think of us poor, miserable wretches.
With deep devotion and intense longing
I supplicate you.
The time has come for you to arouse yourself and do something.
The tradition of meditation is waning
And intellectual arguments predominate.
We are drunk with spiritual pride
And seduced by passion.
The dharma is used for personal gain
And the river of materialism has burst its banks.
The materialistic outlook dominates everywhere
And the mind is intoxicated with worldly concerns.
Under such circumstances, how can you abandon us?
The time has come when your son needs you.
No material offering will please you
So the only offering I can make
Is to follow your example.
When the wild and wrathful father approaches
The external world is seen to be transparent and unreal.
The reasoning mind no longer clings and grasps.
It is wonderful to arrive in your domain
In the pure land of the blazing mountain
Where every experience is full of joy.
Hey ho, the happy yogi!
Every movement of the mind
Becomes bliss and emptiness;
All polarity disappears
When the mind emerges into nakedness
This is the mandala in which
The six senses are self-liberated.
On seeing your face I am overjoyed.
Now pain and pleasure alike have become
Ornaments which it is pleasant to wear.
The experience of joy becomes devotion
And I am drunk with all-pervading blessings.
This is a sign of the merging of mind and guru.
The whole of existence is freed and becomes the guru.
When such blessings descend, your son’s depression
Is entirely liberated into blissfulness.