Philosophy and Religion / Tibet's Great Yogi Milarepa

Tibet's Great Yogi Milarepa

Chapter IX. The Renunciation

Telling of the Disillusionment which Jetsün met when he had reached his Home; and of his Vows to live the Ascetic Life and Practise Meditation in Solitude.

Again Rechung asked, 'Venerable Guru, when thou didst reach home, did the dream prove to be true, or didst thou find thy mother alive?' Jetsün replied, 'The inauspicious dream proved only too true; it was not my lot to see my mother.' Then Rechung said, 'Tell us, Venerable Guru, how thou didst enter thy house,¹ with whom thou didst meet, and in what spirit the people received thee.'

Thereupon Jetsün continued: 'I saw a number of shepherds at a place high up in the glen whence my house was visible; and, feigning ignorance, I asked them the names of places, houses, and their occupants, upon which they told me everything in detail. Then, finally, pointing towards mine own house, I asked them the name of the place and its occupants. They told me that the house was called “Four Columns and Eight Pillars”, but was at present occupied by ghosts only, as there were no living occupants. On asking them how it came to be empty, and what had happened to the inmates, whether they had gone elsewhere or died, I was told, “Formerly, there was a very well-to-do family in that house, who had a single son. Owing to the early death of the father, and a mistake in the manner of his making his will, after the father's decease the paternal relatives usurped all the property of the minor son. When the son had attained his majority, he asked for the restoration of his property; and, failing to get it, had recourse to black magic. Launching curses and hail-storms on this place he did much mischief here. Now we are all so very afraid of his Tutelary Deities that not one of us hardly dareth even to look in that direction, let alone go there. On this account, the house holdeth the corpse of the mother of the only son, and some evil spirits. He had one sister, who, abandoning the mother's corpse, hath gone away begging somewhere, and not come back. The son, too, must be dead, as nothing hath been heard of him. If thou dare to go there thyself, O Pilgrim, thou mayst get some books in the house.” I asked the speaker how long ago all this had happened, and he said that it might be about eight years since the mother's death; but concerning the launching of the hail-storms and the other havoc wrought by the son's black magic he could barely recollect them as a child. And about the happenings previous to that he had only heard from others.

'This assured me that the villagers were so afraid of my Tutelary Deities that they would not dare to harm me. The news of the death of my mother and the disappearance of my sister filled my heart with despair and sorrow. I hid myself in a nook till past sunset, where I wept bitterly. After sunset I went to the village, and lo! I beheld my house exactly in the condition I had seen in my dream. The fine house, which used to be like a temple, was in a most dilapidated and ruinous condition. The set of sacred volumes had been damaged by the rain leaking in, and thick layers of dust and earth fallen from the [ruined] roof covered them; they were serving as nests and sleeping-places for birds and mice. Wherever I looked, desolation and ruin met me, so that I was overwhelmed with despondency. Then groping my way towards the outer rooms I found a heap of earth and rags, over which a large quantity of weeds and grass had grown. On shaking it up I found it to be a heap of human bones, which instinctively I knew to be my mother's. A deep and unutterable yearning seized me. So unbearable was the thought that I should never more see my mother that I was about to lose consciousness, when I remembered my Guru’s Teachings; and, communing spiritually with my mother's spirit and the divine spirits of the saints of the Kargyütpa Sect, I made a pillow of my mother's bones and remained in an undistracted state of tranquillity, in clear and deep meditation, whereby I realized that it was indeed possible to save both my father and mother from the pain and miseries of saṃsāric existence. After passing seven days and nights thus, I rose from the samadhi.²

‘Thence, upon reflection, I came to the conclusion that there was no permanent benefit to be obtained in any state of saṃsāric existence. So I made up my mind to dispose of my mother's bones in the approved way, namely, to have them pulverized and mixed with clay and then moulded into miniature reliquaries, called tsha-tshas.³ I would offer the volumes of Scripture in payment for having this done; and, as for myself, I would go away to the Dragkar-Taso Cave⁴ and there pass my whole time in constant meditation. I determined to sit there night and day, till death should put an end to my life. I vowed that if any thought of worldly ambition should allure me, I would commit suicide rather than allow myself to be overcome by it. I prayed to the Tutelary Deities and Ḍākinīs to cut short my life if ever I should come to think of an easy sort of devotion.

'Making these mental resolves over and over again, I gathered up my mother's bones; and then, upon removing the heap of dust and dirt that had accumulated upon the volumes of Scripture, I saw that their letters were still clear. Carrying the volumes on my back and my mother's bones in my lap, I started forth. An unutterable anguish wrung my heart to its very core. Henceforth, the world had nothing to tempt me or to bind me to it. I repeated my vows to devote my life to a rigid course of asceticism in the realization of the Truth, and resolved to adhere to them firmly. In an almost frenzied mood I sang the following verses of firm resolution to myself:

“O Gracious Lord, Thou the Immutable,
O Marpa the Translator, according to Thy Words Prophetic,
A teacher of the transitoriness of things
I've found Within my native land - prison of temptation;
And by Thy Blessing and Thy Grace, may I,
From this noble teacher, experience and faith obtain.

All phenomena, existing and apparent,
Are ever transient, changing, and unstable;
But more especially the worldly life
Hath no reality, no permanent gain [in it].
And so, instead of doing work that's profitless,
The Truth Divine I'll seek.

First, when my father lived, the [grown-up] son lived not;
Next, when I was born [and grown], my father did not live.
Had both together met, little would have been the profit, even then;
So I will go to gain the Truth Divine,
To the Dragkar-Taso Cave I'll go, to practise meditation.

When my mother lived, myself, the son, was long away;
When I come home, I find my mother dead.
Had both together met, little would have been the profit, even then;
So I will go to gain the Truth Divine,
To the Dragkar-Taso Cave I'll go, to practise meditation.

When my sister was at home, myself, her brother, was away;
When I, her brother, come back home,
I find my sister gone astray.
Had both together met, little would have been the profit, even then;
So I will go to gain the Truth Divine,
To the Dragkar-Tasc Cave I'll go, to practise meditation.

When the Scriptural Texts were there, no veneration had they;
When the veneration came, they lay damaged by the rain.
Had both together [earlier] met, little would have been the profit, even then;
So I will go to gain the Truth Divine,
To the Dragkar-Taso Cave I'll go, to practise meditation.

When the house stood firm, the master was away;
When the master came, the house was fallen in ruin.
Had both remained together, little would have been the profit, even then;
So I will go to gain the Truth Divine,
To the Dragkar-Taso Cave I 'll go, to practise meditation.

When the field was fertile, the farmer was away;
When the farmer came, the field was choked with weeds.
Had both remained together, little would have been the profit, even then;
So I will go to gain the Truth Divine,
To the Dragkar-Taso Cave I'll go, to practise meditation.

Native land, and home, and all possessions,
I know you all to be but empty things;
Any thoughtless one may have you.
As for me, the devotee, I go to win the Truth Eternal.

O Gracious Father, Marpa the Translator,
May I succeed in meditation in the solitude.”

'Having thus sung this, half song, half hymn, in a burst of religious zeal, I went first to the house of my former private tutor. I found him dead; but his son was living, and to him I offered the volumes, asking him to cast the tsha-tshas of my mother's bones. He was afraid, he said, that if he accepted the books my Tutelary Deities would haunt his house, but he kindly promised to cast the tsha-tshas for me. When I told him that my Tutelary Deities would not haunt him, as I was -giving the books to him voluntarily, he consented to take them, saying, “So be it, then.'' Thereupon he began to make the tsha-tshas, I helping him. The casting of them having been finished, I saw the consecration rites performed [over them]. Then, having deposited them inside a stūpa (reliquary), I was preparing to depart, when my tutor's son proposed to detain me for a few days to talk over old times, saying that he would give me of his best; but I told him that I must hasten on to meditate at once, and had no time for talk. He insisted, however, on my spending at least the night with him, so as to allow him time to furnish me with a small quantity of provisions to serve me during my devotions.

'To this I agreed; and he, continuing the conversation, said to me, “In thy youth thou didst destroy thine enemies by black magic. Now, in thy maturity, thou hast become a religious devotee; this, indeed, is admirable. Thou wilt surely become a saint in the future. What Gurus hast thou sought, and what spiritual texts hast thou obtained?” He asked me these questions with interest; and in reply I told him that I had obtained the doctrine of the Great Perfection, and related to him how I had found Marpa. He congratulated me, and suggested that I should repair my house, marry Zesay, and settle down as a Nyingma Lāma. I told him that Marpa had married for the purpose of serving others, but that if I presumed to imitate him without being endowed with his purity of purpose and his spiritual power, it would be the hare's emulation of the lion's leap, which would surely end in my being precipitated into the chasm of destruction. And I added, “I have a general conviction that I do not want anything save a life of meditation and devotion, for I take no pleasure in the worldly life. To live as a hermit in solitude and devote my whole life to meditation is the essence of my Guru’s command. Therefore will I aim to live the ideal life [of a Kargyütpa devotee],⁵ thus satisfying my Guru as well as doing service to all sentient beings and serving the Cause of the Hierarchy. Thereby will I also rescue my parents [from saṃsāric existence]; and, lastly, I shall even profit myself. I know naught but meditation, and so am not likely to accomplish anything else; nor do I aspire to other than this. Moreover, after my having seen the wretched ruins of the house and the remains of the property which my deceased parents possessed, it hath been indelibly impressed upon my heart that worldly pursuits are worthless, and a burning desire to devote my life to meditation hath been enkindled. A life of ease may do for those who have not suffered as I have, and to those to whom the thought of death and hell hath not been brought forcibly home. As for myself, circumstances have convinced me most firmly of the vital need of zealous devotion and deep meditation as long as I live; yea, even unto death itself, despite starvation and poverty.'

'And with tears welling out mine eyes I sang the following song:

“Obeisance to Thy Feet, O Noble Marpa!
May I, the mendicant, be purged of worldly clingings by Thy Grace.

Alas, alas, ye beings unfortunate,
Who cling to worldly things,
The deeper is my grief the longer that I think of you;
The deeper is my sorrow the longer that I taste of yours.
We whirl and whirl, till into Hell we fall;
For them whose karma bringeth [sorrow's] heart-ache,
Devotion of their life to Truth is, of all things, best.

Lord Dorje-Chang, Thou the Immutable,
Grant that this mendicant, blessed by Thy Grace, may cling to solitude;
The guests who loiter in this world –
Illusory and transient as it is –
Must needs be ill with [sorrow's] heart-ache.

My pasture-fields, where browsed my sheep and goats and cows,
Amid the charming Gungthang plains,
Are haunted now by evil spirits;
This is a picture of Illusoriness,
Which maketh me to seek the contemplative life.

My well-built house, ‘Four Columns and Eight Pillars',
Now looketh like a lion's upper jaw;
The tower of four sides, eight pinnacles, and roof that made these nine,
Now looketh like a donkey's ears:
These too are pictures of Illusoriness,
Which make me seek the contemplative life.

My fertile field, the 'Worma Triangle',
Is now o'ergrown with weeds and grass;
My cousins and my kith and kin
Are ready now to rise as foes [against me]:
E'en these are pictures of Illusoriness,
Which make me seek the contemplative life.

My noble father, Mila-Shergyal,⁶
Hath left no trace of ever having lived;
My fond and loving mother, Nyang-Tsa-Kargyen,
Is now nought but a heap of whitened bones:
E 'en these are pictures of Illusoriness,
Which make me seek the contemplative life.

My household priest and private tutor, Kunchog-Lhabum,
Is serving now as menial under others;
My sacred books, the Treasure of the Law,
Have served as lining for rats' holes and nests of birds:
E'en these are pictures of Illusoriness,
Which make me seek the contemplative life.

My relative and neighbour, uncle Yung-gyal,
Now sideth with mine enemies;
Mine only sister, Peta-Gön-kyit,
Hath strayed, and no one knoweth where she be:
E 'en these are pictures of Illusoriness,
Which make me seek the contemplative life.

O Gracious One, Thou the Immutable,
Bless Thou Thy Suppliant that he may cling to solitude.”

'On my singing this melancholy song, my host sighed and said, “Excellent; thou art quite right.” And his wife shed copious tears. The sight of the wretched condition of my home in ruins had affected me so deeply that I could not help giving utterance to several such resolutions to live the life of a hermit in solitary meditation. In mine own heart, too, I kept on repeating the resolution over and over again to myself that I would do so. And, in fact, I have no cause to blame myself for having practised meditation and devotion instead of having wasted my time in worldly pursuits.'

This constituteth the Fifth Meritorious Act, in which is related how Milarepa was driven to a religious life of energetic devotion by the sad circumstances described herein.

Footnotes

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