The Collected Works of Chögyam Trungpa: Volume Five (49 page)

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.