The impulse to believe the absurd when presented with the unknowable is called religion. Whether this is wise or unwise is the domain of doctrine. Once you understand someone's doctrine, you understand their rationale for believing the absurd. At that point, it may no longer seem absurd. You can get to both sides of this conondrum from here.
Armor ornamented with gold designs, Great horse adorned with sandalwood saddle: These I offer you, great Warrior General-- Subjugate now the barbarian insurgents.
Your dignity, O Warrior. Is like lightning in rain clouds. Your smile, O Warrior, Is like the full moon. Your unconquerable power Is like a tiger springing. Surrounded by troops, You are a wild yak. Becoming your enemy Is being caught by a crocodile: O Warrior, protect me, The ancestral heir.
Love. What is love? What is love. Love is a fading memory Love is piercingly present Love is full of charm Love is hideously in the way Explosion of love makes you feel ecstatic Explosion of love makes you feel suicidal Love brings goodliness and godliness Love brings celestial vision Love creates the unity of heaven and earth Love tears apart heaven and earth. Is love sympathy. Is love gentleness. Is love possessiveness. Is love sexuality. Is love friendship. Who knows? Maybe the rock knows Sitting diligently on earth Not flinching from cold snowstorms or baking heat. O rock, How much I love you: You are the only loveable one. Would you let me grow a little flower of love on you? If you don't mind, Maybe I could grow a pine tree on you. If you are so generous, Maybe I could build a house on you. If you are fantastically generous, Maybe I could eat you up, Or move you to my landscape garden. It is nice to be friends with a rock.
First you like your neighbor, You have a friendly chat; Then you are inquisitive, You begin to compare; After that you are disturbed By a lack of harmony; You hate your neighbor, Because there are too many mosquitoes in your house. How silly it is to have a territory in love. The trouble with you is That you have forgotten your husband; The trouble with you is, You have forgotten your wife. "Oh this love of datura It's killing me But I like it I would like to keep on with it- One late night Drove home Having been loved Oh how terrible to be at home It's chilly Unfriendly Feels guilty But angry Household articles Begin to talk to me My past My home affairs My love affair My wife my husband Oh shut up! It's none of your business You stove Just get out out of my way You rug Make yourself invisible I'm not going to tidy you people up But But But It's my home I always want to have a home to come back to Hell on earth Hungry ghost Jealous gods Human passion Euphoria of the gods Stupor of the animals I thought I was having fun I'm so innocent If only I could be with my lover Nothing would matter But The past is haunting me If I could live in the present Constant fountain of romance Nothing would matter How foolish How stupid- Maybe how fantastic."
It all boils down to Rotten fish beef stew gone bad, Before we imitate the cuckoos or the pigeons, We had better think twice Or thrice
So passionate That your lips are quivering So angry That your blood is boiling So stupid That you lost track of your nose So much so In this world of so-so So much Therefore so little So little So great Just so The beauty lies in A rose petal Just touched by Melting morning dew Beauty lies in Dragonflies With their double wings Buzzing neatly As if they were stationary Beauty lies in Majestic shoe That sits diligently While the meditators Torture themselves In a restless shiver So right Norwegian girl With her occasional professorial look Dancing with the typewriter Wife-ing Just so With her lukewarm iron How titillating (This ticklish world) Just so.
If you're going to tickle me Be gentle Be so precise So that I could be amused But Wouldn't get hurt By your clawing But titillating enough To stimulate My system With your feminine Healthy shiny Well-trimmed nail Just so.
The trees Grow Just so Baby ducks Learn to float Just so Mosquitoes' beaks Well-made Just so Oh you Norwegian girl Do you know how many warts On a toad's back? How many wrinkles On granddad's forehead? How many deals Steve Roth has made? Nothing to worry Everything is Just so Doesn't quite hurt But sometimes Painfully ticklish.
How nice it is to meet an old friend, How refreshing to see an old friend; Meeting an old friend is much better than discovering new ones-- Passing an old stone On the winding mountain road, Passing an old oak tree In the English country garden. Passing a derelict castle On the French hillside, Passing an old ant On the sidewalk-- Glory be to Giovannina! Maybe all this is a castle in the air, Maybe this is my conceptualized preconceived subconscious imaginary expectation, Maybe this is just a simple blade of grass. It is all very touching. Maybe it is just glue, Glorified glue That glues heaven and earth together, Glue that seals great cracks in the Tower of London. However, There is something nice about Giovannina: When she smiles, She cheers up the depressed pollution; When she talks, She proclaims the wisdom of precision. She is somewhat small, But dynamite. She seems to know who she is. She could create thunderstorm; She could produce gentle rain. She could get you good property; She brings down the castle in the air. She is somehow in my opinion well-manufactured. Fresh air of the Alps I think she is fresh air, Which turns into a well-cared-for garden Free from lawn mowers and insecticides.
Our anxiety, Our case history, Our problems with the world We tried so hard to accomplish, We tried very hard. But now we are a sitting rock in the midst of rain; We are the broom in the closet; We are just leaves rejected by an autumn tree. Sometimes we think highly of ourselves-- Thundering typhoons! Glory be to Captain Haddock, Punished for not being crazy enough, Sent to jail for being crazy. Docs a pitchfork have a blade? Do the handcuffs have emotions? Persecuted by your own guilt, Uplifted by your chauvinism The whole thing is a bag full of razorblades and pebbles.
It was a desolate space you provided today; It was hearty, but sadly WASP. The subtle air of power is devastating In the midst of the Black Velvet advertisement. It is a rewarding experience that you are not on a billboard, But a breathing human being Who produce a star on your nose as you sweat. Our meeting was like a lady rider having a chat with a horse in its stall With the atmosphere of potent dung, refreshing hay, While the neighboring horse, clad in a tartan blanket, looked on. This desolate concrete cemetery that you claim is your birthplace-- I feel you deserve more than this: Rebars and concrete facades, Eternally farting cars spreading pollution, Yellow cabs producing their own aggression for the sake of money and legality You should be sitting on rocks Where the heathers grow, daisies take their delight, clovers roam around and pine trees drop their needles of hints. You deserve a better world than what you have. I would like to take you for a ride in my world, My heroic world: We ride in a chariot adorned with the sun, the moon and the four elements; We take a great leap as we ride; We are not timid people; We are not trapped in our beauty or profession. Oh you-- Your corrupted purity is still immaculate from a layman's point of view. However, I am not a layman: I am a lover. Let us chew together a blade of chive-- You could take me out for dinner next. Heaven forbid! Gosh! as they say. Suddenly I miss you. Do you miss me? You miss I miss You miss I miss You miss I miss Should you miss me? Should I miss you? It's all a mutual game. If you miss me, maintain your is-ness. When I see you next, I want to see you exactly the same as I saw you now. But that is too foolish Let us come to an agreement: If I miss you, you will be slightly different; If you miss me, I will be slightly different. Let us meet each other in our growth and aging. In any case, let us build the Empire State Building on top of the Continental Divide.
I hand you my power; If I grow you grow. Your childishness is the ground where you can take part in the power. Your inquisitiveness is magnificent. There is need for a further growing tie with heaven and earth. I have given you the space, The very blue sky; The clouds and the suns and the moons are yours. But you are confused, You like more toys: 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, Maybe executing. You, my son, Take your Swiss Army knife-- Make a samurai sword out of it.
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 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, Osel.
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.C.S. on the handle as well,
Make a samurai sword out of it: Be a good swordsman.
20 August 1976 Boulder, Colorado
On the occasion of the empowerment of the Vajra Regent Osel Tendzin.
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. Chogyam is alive; No hope for the death of Chogyam-- Taking care of Chogyie With hot warm towels Breakfast in bed Chamber pots in their proper places Serving Chogyie as the precious jewel who may not stay with us-- All take part in the platitude of serving Chogyie as a dying person! Oh! What's become of Chogyie? He drinks too much, He's bound to die soon Taking care of Chogyie is no longer would-be mother's pleasure? Thriving strongly, Existing powerfully, Eternally growing, Stainless steel veins: Chogyie is a crystal ball with stainless steel veins. With diamond heart, Even the most accomplished samurais' swords can't cut Chogyie's veins, Because his veins are vajra metal, The blood is liquid ruby, The indestructibility of Chogyie is settled For foes very frightening: Downfall of him never occurs; For friends rejoicing: Chogyie is made out of vajra nature, Such good Chogyie makes people shed their tears; Such good Chogyie makes people tremble before his vajra dignity, Chogyie is going to be pain and pleasure for all of you, Whether you hate or love him. Chogyie's indestructibility could be venom as well as longevity-nectar, Here comes Chogyie, Chogyie's for all, Take Chogyie as yours-- Chogyam says: Lots of love! I'm yours!
