Chogyam Trungpa my have left before I was born, but he left behind the living essence of his teachings, and a chance for anyone to put them into practice and realise their basic goodness. Even now, he still isn't giving up on anybody. I feel incredible gratitude to the Vidyadhara for transmitting the Buddha's beating heart to all his loving students, who in turn, can help many others realise the Openness Clarity and Sensitivity of their being. So here's a wonky little poem I wrote a while ago in retreat, in gratitude to you, Chogie: Masculine form, feminine space, the open pregnant quaking naught, the flash of life, a stable one, until you’re torn in two. Little bundle of joy, they say, the greatest gift of all, but here you are, incomplete, separate from the void. And weeping through your brittle cage, your little tender heart, hurt so much by love and pain, armoured so to keep you safe. The world outside scares you stiff, and brick by brick your structure rose. Can you hide from winds of change, whilst year on year that space grows small? That little room echoes loud, endless neuroses scratch, your own pet dog bites your neck, Will it ever end? You rise and hear the voices scream, that old demonic friend, like helpless beings suffering; those prisoners of the mind. What once was fun and harmless games, now haunting every day, please make it stop, it hurts so much, you cry into the night. Until one day the wind breaks through, shatters on the floor, and looking up, a dharma man, ‘no big deal’, at all. His chubby hand picks you up, and sits you on the naked floor, your castle was a silly game now look at all you are. You sit and sit and sit some more, and slowly start to see, you can’t be safe, there’s no escape, let go, and dance along. You laugh and cry and fall in Love, the fire burning bright; illuminating dancing space, exactly as it is. So who are you, dear dharma man? You say you’re no one thing; activity of the thing called you, another side of we.