At first light a sight to be sung.
Hearing our heartbeat to the drum. If we was to give it all away.
We would give the day
The sea, clouds and it's rains.
I am too young to have met you. But thank you, with all my heart.
I aspire to meet you one day Rinpoche.
I was in the Tibetan Buddhist Monastery now called -Samye Ling- in 1968 in Scotland where Trungpa lived together with his Tulku Akong Rimpoche ; a great Tibetan artist Sherapalden Beru who painted tankas and other traditional Tibetan paintings and a few monks..
Thank God (for the Western World) they had escaped into Britain after the Chinese had invaded Tibet... Samye Ling was a centre where visitors could come to meditate and study Tibetan Buddhism. We used to just bump into Trungpa in the corridors, kitchen, garden......
he always smiled and often taught us on the spot! In the morning we would go to the Puja which was always attended by Trungpa and some monks who played those heavy horns.
There were always lamas who came to teach; once we a Zen Master from Japan, also a Theravadan monk from Thailand. Lots of people entered the Dharma and were initiated.
Samye Ling is still there now in Dumfries, Scotland. There is a beautiful Temple build which was opened by the Dalai Lama. So I met him as well.....
I would recommend to anyone to go and stay there sometimes in your lifetime.
There are also centres all over Europe.
Thank you all so much....I write a tribute to your steadfastness. It helps me understand why i am besotted, why i tremble when i see a flash of light and guess at the source. i wonder if i could have stood in the same room with him? will never know for sure... but hold head and shoulders up. with smile.
Is everybody awake??? HI!
He strongly influenced my friend and early mentor, Dan Russell, who travelled with Trungpa to Bhutan, where he also met Dilgo Khyentse Rimpoche. As a youth I travelled up to the Scottish borders, hoping to learn meditation...
I asked Dan to "Show me the awakened state", (It worked for Milarepa)..."You show me"., he said . . *Irritating*. . ."I'm not a meditation teacher", he said, but while you're here you can train Karate, and work. . .I became sly. *Thinks: "Everytime I enter the Dojo and bow, I'll treat it as meditation in action". . . It took me an 'extra' ten years to get a black belt . . . (very good quality belt, though!)
Trungpa's influence was always there. Crazy Wisdom. All my opinions were challenged. . .I learned to question my own thinking, and observe it's tendencies, patterns, qualities, and style...all with gentle humour and kindness. Generosity. Patience, Dedication, unceasing effort, spontaneity, and a large dose of outrageousness.
My father also was involved in this process, and attended the last talk that Trungpa gave in London I think it was. He was very late, and basically said nothing. Giving the self-importance of the "Audience", a good look at their self - centered expectations. . .Everytime A conclusion got 'jumped to' my dad used to say . . ."And THEN what?".
Hi my name is Karl - and I have a few memories of memories of personal experiences with The Most Venerable Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche:
I got in my white Ford van and drove to the DENVER AIRPORT - John and Marvin were there too - in John's blue VW bug. His plane landed and everybody disembarked except one. What happened - nothing - for at last a small brown man came rolling down the gangway in a wheelchair. "welcome to Boulder" I said - "would you like to go out for some lunch?". "No thank you, I'm tired" And off He went with John and Marvin to his Gold Hill home. I stood there wondering what had just happened! HA,HA!
Then one warm day I was driving Him in the foothills outside of Boulder. "Pull over here". I did, we got out and He told me to bring the blanket. I followed Him as he walked around. Finally - "put the blanket here". He lay down, arms and legs spread. I asked - He said: "This is a power spot and I'm soaking up the energy of the earth". After a while He got up, I shook out folded the blanket went back to the car and back to town. Next day I went to that very same spot - put down a blanket - and lay down. All I felt was the pain of the very sharp stones in my back. HA, HA.
Then - one day at beautiful Lake Louise , Rinpoche said: "let's go for a ride". Off we went down the snowy highway toward British Columbia. Then: "let's stop here for a beer". After one or two, and a long pit stop, we drove back to the Seminary. While we were gone, the military was frantically looking for Him. When we finally appeared, 'although relieved' they really wanted to hang me high. HA,HA.
Little bubbles keep floating up. Rinpoche came to our house for lunch or dinner in early days. One time, Marcia served him steak tartar - he seemed to like it. HA,HA
Then, on a beautiful evening with a few flakes drifting down, driving Him to his first public talk at Macky Auditorium, he said: "you introduce me but make it short". Finally; both of us on stage I said: "another mountain has come to boulder" He didn't comment, but the audience laughed. HA,HA
I know this is boring, so I'll stop here.
Dear Rnipoche - thank you for being Rinpoche
The end --- Karl
The Grateful Acceptance of All!
At the lowest point of my life, the Shambhala dharma kept me breathing. I am filled with gratitude.
I asked him looking up while tying his shoe laces, "what Buddha family am I"
CTR "Find out!"
You just blew my mind, thank you so much!
Ô inoubliable CTr
Tu as dit
puisque nous sommes ici pourquoi ne pas y être
et où que je sois ta question
me porte et me soulève et me guide
Quand je pense que tu es parti je pleure
quand je pense à tout ce que tu nous a donné
je souris et je pleure
ma plus belle histoire d'amour
Because he left us
We found our tender hearts.
Space once so full
Feels such profound absence
We're touched and moved
Again and again to connect with
Our longing, genuine hearts of
Because we do, he's with us still.
Because he left us
We found our tender hearts.
Space once so full
Feels such profound absence
We're touched and moved
Again and again to connect with
Our longing, genuine hearts of
Because we do, he's with us still.
Thank you for all the land centers. All the land that was slowly and deeply blessed in the Tibetan way. Like so many children who grew up running around RMSC or Vermont or Nova Scotia the land and the way all of you adults held that space was the biggest teaching for me. When I try to explain it I realize I'm taking about invisible space and invisible beings and protectors and it all feels strong and real. Will Rykin for example, warrior body.What a wild ride its been. I was 8 when he died, it was the first time I say my father cry. It was also a great honor and transformative experience working several summers on the Great Stupa, I hope if they will have me, that I can help maintain the gold leaf and paint work well into my old age....
The Sun is resting in the West
No doubt it went from the East,
In bald truth its Shining for the Universe
The Souls Were Blooming in the Garden Of Dharma
The Radiating Smiles, healing the World,
May your Blessings be with us in all darkening periods!
You punched me in the stomach
And crumbled my aggression.
You hugged me
And opened my world.
And woke me up.
My tears from your death
Have sealed you in my heart.
I never talked about my feelings. It was just my reality that feelings were something hidden. Those hidden feelings formed a wall on all sides, trapping me, creating more unmanageable feelings. The author emanation, Chogyam Trungpa, talked about feelings as if there is no big deal. Feelings are just what they are. I think the most fitting tribute would be to just sit and meditate. May we all indulge in meditation.
maybe a little moldy
poem of devotion
I pay homage to the glorious
sometimes Nyingma, sometimes Kagyu
sometimes That luminous awakeness
which is your own mind.
I bow to the glorious
the flower falling from cloudless sky
the wall of razors
cutting the vein of ego.
I prostrate to the glorious
the torch lighting the way
the rug pulled out beneath
I praise the glorious
who shows the mind at rest
who bombards the mind with thoughts.
Between this and that
resting in awareness beyond right and wrong
knowing the difference
singing the song of wakefulness
like the king of birds
leaving the mountains below,
I pay homage to the one......
That which liberates all.
came to mind on a mountain top in oregon
i remember my only father Chogyam Trungpa
may we rest our weary minds and see what is.
Tharpa Lodro aka bobby higgins
When the morning sun
Illuminates this world
Who cannot help feeling happy.
Play of delight , pervasive
Clear, sharp ,
Remembering our encounter at the kitchen door: I set down a spoon I was drying and turned towards the doorway, and there you were, turning to face me, and we stood there silently, each looking at the other. Thank you for everything, Sir.
Love you to death.
Since I never do enough and always hesitate, the time has come to write something out of gratitude.
Being clever beyond anyone else's clever, kind beyond anyone else's kind.
So Brave and so so strong, a cosmic ocean of what we call "ultimate wisdom".
Swelling swiftly with penetrating clarity like the tidal bore in the Bay of Fundy.
Communicating inherent truths so directly.
Can I even speak of homage to you without embarrassment?
Your sangha, the Vajradhatu, Dharmadhatu, Shambhala sangha
Now has permanently changed it's DNA.
We've got you under our skin, as the song goes.
We have become emissaries in myriad ways.
That's what you wanted isn't it?
Homage to "Old School Shambhala
Who laid eyes on Rinpoché in Tibet
Who became his army outside of Asia.
Homage to the "New School Shambhala"
Who keep the Great Eastern Suns rays shining on his son.
Who feel Chögyam Trungpa's boundlessness even without meeting him.
Just like Asoka Maurya sent out his army to spreading Buddhism to Asia so successfully,
Just like that you infected the West and its "westerners".
With non-dual, non trippy, spectacular, kalaidescopic enlightened warriorship.
Oh my. A seed you planted pulsates in our aching hearts,
As long as we remember your limitless qualities.
Sad-joy you say? Yes... what else is there?
Suchness, whatever that means, is why you are:
"Wanted dead or alive."
In 1971, I had a dream unlike any I'd ever had before or since. I swam in a crystalline pool of aquamarine water with a young golden lion. Like two seals, we mirrored each other's movements, gliding effortlessly, completely synchronized and full of an intense bliss. When I awoke, the bliss continued and lasted for several days. When I encountered Chogyam Trungpa's teachings on Shambhala, suddenly I knew who the Lion was. May we fulfill your wishes, may we promote your kingdom! With boundless appreciation and deepest love and gratitude, dear Rinpoche...
We never met and this is your 30th Paranivarna year but you are alive and well in my life. Boundless gratitude to you and the continuing echo of your presence and inspirational light _()_
I remember being very young (a toddler) and feeling friendless at a party at the court in Boulder. I came upon Rinpoche sitting in a chair in the middle of the lawn. He was also alone and entirely unoccupied with anything, just sitting in the middle of the party as delighted adults milled about. He had at once both a vast spaciousness and a dense solidity. I thought, "oh, there he is. He is the one who makes everyone feel like there is nowhere better in the world to be than here."
He liked his eggs sunny side up.
One of my most difficult practices is non-attachment to the teachings of Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche.
Your words and wisdom are so profound and present in my heart. I am forever grateful for the contentment, joy, fearlessness, and wisdom in my everyday life.
Across a crowded room in Boulder he caught my gaze and saw through to the origin. I have studied and practiced the dharma for 42 years and still barely fathom what was revealed in that moment. Homage to the mahasiddhi of our time. Fathomless gratitude to this man one who loved us unconditionally and never gave up on us. Thank you for haunting us still. Now more than ever.
Simple, human and inspiring. Chogyam came to me thru Bill's lecture about Basic Goodness. Thanks both.
We never met, but you were ever present, your books profoundly influenced me and every word read true. I still seek you out in the Chronicles.
Oh my compassionate guru
I take refuge in you
Never separate from you
The way I heard you
The way you taught me
So true the way as it is
Oh my compassionate guru
Who opened the treasure
The gate of shambala
Introduced the hidden way
So true the way to shambala
Oh my compassionate guru
So amazing the way geniun sadness
So amazing the way fearlessness
So amazing the way hopelessness
So amazing the way introduced drala
So true path is goal ,goal is path
Oh my compassionate guru
Let your wisdom shine in all the direction
Let all the beings know you roar the victory of shambala
You initiated me against my resistance...you left me speechless and wondering what just happened...knowing s.th.happened that my mind couldnt grasp...too big ...too vast...too mind- less...thank you!
Thank you, great, beautiful master-friend 🙂
A teacher without teacher
Meditation without sitting
Earth breathing fire drinking
Brillant and genius
You came to me in a book from my brother, now you and he are both gone.
You came to me in a vision, wearing a kilt, cheering me on,
It wasn't till later I knew of your connections in Scotland.
I never met you in person,
You changed my life,
I'm eternally grateful.
Meeting the second time.
CTR: You look younger.
Me : I cut my hair off, sir.
CTR: Are you Jewish?
Me : No sir. Italian.
CTR: Pretty much the same thing, don't you think.
uproarious laughter all around
I sit in an uneasy chair
not wanting anything otherwise,
you had great style.
My grandmother just died this morning. Interesting it would happen today. She was 99.
To my Root Guru , the vidyadhara Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche.....................You are still haunting us after all these years. Your touch, your smile , your frown, your elegance in the midst of chaos, your laughter, your profound presence, and your vast teachings which touch our lives profoundly everyday...our path continues due to your limitless compassion. You will live in our hearts and minds forever.
We dance and skate together
and you gave me soap to wash myself in Nova Scotia cold water
Parinirvana of Chogyam Trungpa 2017
Thirty years, and still a part of me.
What a miracle you continue to be.
On Meeting a True Friend - Vancouver, February 1975
With great trepidation
I met you face-to-face
Mountain like -
you sat in your chair so still
On hearing my multi-towered stories
of sorted meditation practices
from Christian to somewhat buddhist
- an utter embodiment of spiritual materialism
embraced by total bewilderment
You laughed - in fact howled with laughter
Great belly-filled roars
On catching your breath
You peered over your glasses
and simply said
'Oh, you've been very busy'
Head spinning, body shaking, face sweating
I heard his instructions
Keep to shamatha as daily practice
Do a 10 day retreat
Come to Naropa in summer
And you should also come along to Seminary
I was a babe in the woods
A country bumpkin if not a pumpkin
Only a month residing in the Dharmadhatu center
His guidance embraced me
His love enveloped me
Though even with beating heart of vast panic
I knew I had found a friend
A true friend
Someone who could see through
all my blemishes
all my darknesses
all my fears
And I felt my booming heart go out
to a new place
to a new space
to new possibilities
Knowing that I had found a friend
- a great friend
- a master friend
From that moment to this day
an irrevocable bond
not just for that moment but for all moments
for endless times
Knowing I had found a true friend
March, 2017, Prague
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.
I met you once in a dream. It was pretty good.
Once we had our duty -- we could say "I am on duty " or "I am off duty"
Now there is just our lives -- each moment.
When we cook, we cook for you
When we clean our homes, we clean your Court
When we care for our children, we emulate your care for us.
When we sit, we are your throne cushion
When we stand, we stand in your presence
When we walk, we are your walking stick
When we drive, we are your driver
When we wait in line, we wait for you
When we tend our garden, we tend your garden
When we open the door, we greet you.
The procession is underway
The inner court incense is burning
You are forevermore entering
taking your seat
clearing your throat
May we wake up in the middle of our lives
and carry on your work
May we make love with your passion
eat with your appetite
clean our homes with your attention to details
wake up in the morning with your awakened heart
go to sleep with your empty abandon
sing with your piercing first-thought confidence
teach with your skillful means
die with your wisdom.
So the magical culture of Tibetan Buddhism
The magical discoveries of mind
Would not be lost
He dissolved it into a dot
Which he carried to the west
He raced to plant it's seeds, in our heart/mind
At our city and retreat centers, till his life was spent.
Go to SMC, to KCL, and the others. You can still feel his mind, everywhere.
The urgency remains; it's still our turn.
The young can hear it. We can still transmit.
If we don't do it, no one will.
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.
Fearless lions roar
Magical dance of majestic power
Flying to the west
Atop your wisdom tiger
Wisdom flames scorching
Mahasiddha in suit
Transplanting the dharma
Establishing the kingdom
Your wisdom warriors ride on
With the sounds of Ki and So
Your legacy shakes the globe
Like that of a thousandfold thunder
From my fathers book and tales and my one of my favorites. On a plane rinpoche takes my dads hand.
CTR: take me I'm yours
John: I love you
CTR: couldn't care less
met Your Majesty
in a teardrop falling while
polishing a brass Kasung button.
Today marks the 30th anniversary of the death of Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche, a seminal figure in the transmission of the buddhist teachings to west.
His genius in making even the most profound buddhist teachings accessible in English while not sacrificing an iota of their integrity, is now universally recognized, including by many who may have wondered at the time what this strange man who didn't seem bound by cultural norms-east or west-was up to.
He was--and is through his writings, videos and audios--radiant, piercing, unfailingly kind, scary, soothing, outrageous, unflappable, humble and full of delight, humor and celebration.
After studying his work for 47 years, I am shocked by the freshness and immediacy when I go back to even the "simplest" teachings. So I am writing this not out of nostalgia but to remind myself that in these chaotic times, his prescient teachings on working with chaos and on the importance of building sane societies are more valuable than ever.
Poem for the Vidyadhara Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche
Upon his death April 4, 1987
On a cloudy day I saw your face.
It was stretched across the sky.
Everywhere I looked, there you were.
The wind blew through your hair.
All sounds became mantras
Streaming from your mouth.
I longed to hold you, but you dissolved.
Finally, empty-handed, sitting still, I let you go
And we caressed.
Although I never formally met you or experienced you in your nirmanakaya, I've been blessed to have the guidance by one of your students. My teacher has shared many wonderful stories and it is quite clear to see that you are very much alive in her heart every moment. I did had a wonderful dream with you years ago, one that I still remember vividly. I was in a line, a procession heading towards you. You were giving everyone a blessing. I remember you were dressed in white robes, and thought how odd? I was use to seeing Tibetan monks in their marooned robes. Then as I arrived in front of you, you placed your hand on my head as I bowed. Then, like a rush of electricity, I felt an energy come from my feet, up through my body and out of the top of my head! At this moment, my eyes opened wide, I gasped, and woke up from the dream! It was an amazing experience. When I shared it with my teacher, she laughed and said, "I see Rinpoche visited you."
In the dhatu of beginninglessness and endlessness
Thank goodness there is the death of concepts
And the deathlessness of basic goodness
As fresh as dewdrops in the morning,
Your words of wisdom drips upon me.
Without any hindrance or boundary,
Your lights of love shines from afar to reach me.
Though we’ve never met before in this life,
Your presence is always here with no doubt.
My precious Father, please bear me in mind,
So that you’ll recognize me when I appear in your kingdom.
For stranding me in Cape Breton
Among the eagles and hawks
Riding the wind.
You're still dead,
still alive in my heart.
Time and space
are not an obstacle.
We miss you so much
Your kindness is more overwhelming now
Than it was then.
We were stupid and speedy
But your powerful tenderness
You gave us the Ashe in our hearts.
It is our ally.
There is no separation.
We can ride the wind, feel the space, be the clarity,
And touch your magnificent profundity
These are the means to repay your kindness,
We vow to follow your example
There is a cliff in my Kansas Life –
A knife cut to the bone
Through artery and ligament, he
There is a pit in front of next
That opens with a pop, he
Showed me with a sake glass
And Japan fan
I loved what was to come, he
Jilted me. This morning, the slight
Weight of eyeglasses on nose – twenty-nine
Years awake in strange Topeka, sun rises.
Because of our weakness
your genuine sadness
blazes through the jungle of samsara
like a tiger breathing fire
Because of our pain
snow lion petrifies doubt
Because of your beauty
Garuda picks clean the bones of contention
and sweeps the vast sky with joy
Because of your brilliance
the turquoise dragon
spins mountains of sanity
into clouds of gold
Because our every pore
longs for your health and well-being
perhaps the heavy lids
of the sinking sun
and the sour sodden earth
and be refreshed
Melt the frozen world
of hatred and desire!
We love you so much!
Dear friends and Sangha members ,
C'est avec une grande joie que je lève mon verre en l'honneur du VCTR.
IN BRIEF I MAKE A TOAST.
Between the VCTR and me , it is a long LOVE AFFAIR . I have been lucky to meet him in Europe. I used to run to see him every time I heard he was giving teaching in England or Germany.
It was him who make me go to SMC Colorado to attend his three months seminary. There He created a bobby trap for me explanation :
I met in the middle of 400 participants my future husband Gabriel and later on I moved to Vancouver OH LA LA.
When HE died I went to Karme Choling to say goodbye and participated in all the ceremonies and the cremation.
But in fact I was wrong as until this day I never did say goodbye to Him.
As in the deepest of my heart his teachings are always present, fresh and vivid.
So my friends and sangha members please REMEMBER that without Him we would not be here.
and also The Sakyong would not be propagating The Shambhala teachings .
NEVER FORGET THE VCTR.
LEVONS NOS VERRES EN SON HONNEUR.
PLEASE RAISE YOUR GLASS IN HIS HONOUR.
TO THE VIDYADHARA .
Vancouver Shambhala Center
APRIL 4 2015
April 4, 2015
Winter snow engollops us
in the bottom of a teacup
Affairs of the world: abrupt
airliner drops on Alp -- all dead
Dead guru cries in my mind's eye,
Then pops a cap in my puffed pride
Dead guru lies under hate
like silence between harsh words
Flies in the face of ignorance,
as I erupt in irritation
Offers Kingdom's keys
to poor me
Celebrate the Kingdom!
State heart's first thought! Meditate on this!
-James M. Wilton
that lecture in Berkeley
off the stage
leaves me in freefall
You have created
Strong cocktails of conception
But what about the reality of your own death.
What is intoxicating about that?
Do you realize you are nearly dead right now
The conceptions that once were
Have become a merry go round at the fair
Fun but pointless.
But not satisfying.
And there you sit on your old plastic chair
Another day at the fair
What do you make of it?
The operator is on shift work
And blamelessly, shifting gears
I saw love birds above,
kissing gloriously, perched in the afternoons wet fog
But why has your seat been emptied
Have you lost all enjoyment?
Drinking the cocktail of sadness is indulgent without hopelessness
Quit digging a pit!
Lift yourself up meek tiger
The sun is beginning to rise
Hum Hum Hum
In the sacred place of the glorious Copper Colored Mountain,
Ablaze with the source of dharmas,
flower petals rain from the sky,
Shimmering with the lights of the five families,
Whose trees and greenery adorn the awesome charnal ground,
Is the dwelling place of the only father guru,
Chogyam Trungpa Dorje Trollo Karma Pakshi.
Grant your blessings to remain in the center of my heart,
So that negativity arouses unfabricated wakefulness,
So that the age of the 3 poisons and the 3 Lords quickly abates,
So that father and child constantly meet
by the light of the fire that consumes hope and fear,
eradicating the border between meditation and post-meditation.
So that all that arises dawns as your dwelling place,
and that the golden age of Shambhala may likewise quickly manifest!
-Jinpa Samten, resting under the shade of the compassion of Chogyam Trungpa.
Zero degrees this morning at nine
Still, the cabin is warm
And frosted landscapes glazed on window panes
Are melting in the sun's rise.
It's good to face the east.
Today's sun seems to fill all space
Above the mountains
Glaring enormous blue-white brilliant haze
Around the radiant core.
I cannot look for long.
Sunlight is far too rare now
And as the new moon grows
Sunglow will wane for ten more days
Grey desolation shrouding this bleak world.
And no bird's song.
But as the winter starts
Once more the glorious sun
Will grace us with his rays
Warming the earth, melting my icebound heart.
I had not realized that you'd been gone.
You are always vividly present
whenever i look in your eyes -
its always happening - one look
& we fly in the big blue sky
A rock is not enlightened
because a rock is not confused.
I am not enlightened, I think.
It is all so confusing.
Chogyam Trungpa is enlightened,
so they say.
On the day he died,
We drove all night, and cried.
What lives? What dies?
I see him in new
students, in their thoughts, their hearts
alive, in their eyes.
Wisdom dawns as emptiness today
Teaching me once again
Not to ask questions
For you only get answers
Not to force issues
That deception is a tissue-thin film of lies.
But the perpetual fool
Still makes lists.