The Collected Works of Chögyam Trungpa: Volume Seven (59 page)

Should they be made of gold, or plastic?

Should they come from New Jersey, or from the collections of the British court?

Could you use your responsibility as a golden joke, or a vajra scepter?

It is very heavy,

But I think you can hold it.

Canoeing is not for you.

Maybe parachuting.

Embroidering is not for you,

Shar (East).

Maybe executing.

You, my son,

Take your Swiss Army knife—

Make a samurai sword out of it.

March 22, 1976

Commentary on “The Alden (and Thomas Frederick)”

I hand you my power:

When I gave you an inch, that symbolized a mile;

I am glad you accept me and my mileage.

If I grow you grow:

If my kingdom grows, you will be hassled by it;

You will be forced to grow.

Your childishness is the ground where you can take part in the power:

Your innocence and willingness are the only working basis we have;

Therefore, I hope you will be corrupted and cynical, which is good.

Your inquisitiveness is magnificent:

You have not been embarrassed by a wooden nickel,

But you are so inquisitive about how I manage my world;

I am proud that I can push you into the world of elegance.

There is need for a further growing tie with heaven and earth:

Your smelly socks are due to having dandruff in your hair;

Please don’t regard this as problematic:

We should have head and feet together.

I have given you the space:

Since there is no choice—

Space is not mine but yours too;

But in my case, I pretended that I owned it,

And gave it to you as my hearty gift.

The very blue sky:

In the world of dharmadhatu everything is blue;

You I felt as the inheritor of our lineages.

The clouds and the suns and the moons are yours:

The organization of clouds, suns of your insight, and moons of challenge:

To work among these three;

However, this is not passing the buck;

I regard this as passing the family heirloom—

If I may say so, you should be proud of it.

But you are confused:

Too many gifts and complimentary remarks make you like a cross-eyed owl, or frog, for that matter;

But don’t take it too seriously—

The confusion is powerfully yours.

You like more toys:

Tinkle tinkle toy world is glorious but hard-core toy world is depressing—

They are all made out of plastic anyway;

Don’t you think there’s something unpleasant about that?

Should they be made of gold, or plastic?

Should they be?

Even though they may be made out of gold, it is plastic—

You have better taste than that, Ösel.

Should they come from New Jersey, or from the collections of the British court?

I would prefer they come from the British court,

But then you should be involved in a different court;

Maybe New Jersey is too familiar to you;

Don’t be so crazy about cosmopolitanness—

They have their own rotten history.

Could you use your responsibility as a golden joke, or a vajra scepter?

This is a one-sided question: obviously the vajra scepter;

The golden joke of the other cosmopolitan trips is pretty funky,

I hope you know that.

It is very heavy:

It is demanding;

It does not provide you with a smile, but you have to provide it with your own smile—

But do we know what “it” is?

But I think you can hold it:

Don’t have domestic orgasm but but but hold it—

Let us have cosmic orgasm with a giant splash:

Don’t you think that’s a good idea with a vajra scepter in your hand?

Canoeing is not for you:

You should swim, you should do equitation, you should do archery;

But diving together with hippy-dippy canoeing-trippy is outdated for you,

Don’t you think so?

Maybe parachuting:

Ah! There’s something for you, you could do this:

Parachuting, literally or metaphorically;

I know you like the drop and I know you like the float—

Maybe we could do them together at some point.

Embroidering is not for you:

Little stitches are very much of low vision.

Maybe executing:

You would be a great executor;

You are a great officer in executive committee:

I’m sure that is a good job for you—

You have done it already in any case.

You, my son:

Did you know your father was I?

But in any case, who can transcend the affection beyond sonship but you?

Take your Swiss Army knife:

Made in Switzerland, all sorts of possibilities:

Goodly made, efficient, well-thought-out, everything you could think of,

My gift to you,

Which says T.G.S. on the handle as well.

Make a samurai sword out of it:

Be a good swordsman.

August 20, 1976

Boulder, Colo.

On the occasion of the empowerment of the Vajra Regent Ösel Tendzin.

Aurora 7 (#1)

Glorious year for my work.

Glorious diamond for my business.

Glorious gurus visited me.

What could go wrong, Chögyie?

Worlds of yes and no have their place in their Christian original sin,

But my world is not that—

My world is nowness where tortoises can fly,

Birds can swim.

For the first time in my life, this is final:

It is the beginning.

I never began my life before.

I struggled with tutor, policeman,

Disciplinarians with long faces, deep frowns,

Accusing of being a naughty boy right and left.

Now the significant tutor-friend I have in this city of Boulder

Is the sheriffdom,

Who are actually very obedient.

American democracy is falling apart.

The officialdom of democracy are embarrassed.

In the realm of ceremonies and empowerments

There is victory chatter,

There is personal pride,

There is a significant proclamation:

Chögyam was born as a peasant’s kid

But he is willing to die as the universal monarch.

April 8, 1976

Boulder, Colo.

Aurora 7 (#2)

Sun is dead,

Moon is born;

Moon is dead,

Sun is born.

Who said that?

Which is true.

Sun-moon are alive,

Sun-moon are dead;

They both shine on their own schedules.

Chögyam is alive;

No hope for the death of Chögyam—

Taking care of Chögyie

With hot warm towels

Breakfast in bed

Chamber pots in their proper places

Serving Chögyie as the precious jewel who may not stay with us—

All take part in the platitude of serving Chögyie as a dying person!

Oh! What’s become of Chögyie?

He drinks too much,

He’s bound to die soon—

Taking care of Chögyie is no longer would-be mother’s pleasure?

Thriving strongly,

Existing powerfully,

Eternally growing,

Stainless steel veins:

Chögyie is a crystal ball with stainless steel veins,

With diamond heart.

Even the most accomplished samurais’ swords can’t cut Chögyie’s veins,

Because his veins are vajra metal,

The blood is liquid ruby.

The indestructibility of Chögyie is settled—

For foes very frightening:

Downfall of him never occurs;

For friends rejoicing:

Chögyie is made out of vajra nature.

Such good Chögyie makes people shed their tears;

Such good Chögyie makes people tremble before his vajra dignity.

Chögyie is going to be pain and pleasure for all of you,

Whether you hate or love him.

Chögyie’s indestructibility could be venom as well as longevity-nectar.

Here comes Chögyie,

Chögyie’s for all,

Take Chögyie as yours—

Chögyam says: Lots of love!

I’m yours!

April 8, 1976

1111 Pearl Street

OFF BEAT

In the clear atmosphere,

A dot occurred.

Passion tinged that dot vermilion red,

Shaded with depression pink.

How beautiful to be in the realm of nonexistence:

When you dissolve, the dot dissolves;

When you open up, clear space opens.

Let us dissolve in the realm of passion,

Which is feared by the theologians and lawmakers.

Pluck, pluck, pluck, pluck the wildflower.

It is not so much of orgasm,

But it is a simple gesture,

To realize fresh mountain air that includes the innocence of a wildflower.

Come, come, D.I.R., you could join us.

The freshness is not a threat, not a burden;

It is a most affectionate gesture—

That a city could dissolve in love of the wildness of country flowers.

No duty, no sacrifice, no trap;

The world is full of trustworthy openness.

Let us celebrate in the cool joy

The turquoise blue

Morning dew

Sunny laughter

Humid home:

Images of love are so good and brilliant.

June 1976

Aurora 7 (and Nyingje Sheltri)

When a cold knife is planted in your heart,

What do you say to it?

When you have swallowed a cold stone,

What do you say to it?