THE LIFE OF MILAREPA Part II Chapter 6 - The Renunciation Then Retchung asked, ‘Venerable Master, when you arrived in your native land, did you find your mother alive or was it as you had dreamed?’ The Master answered, ‘Just as in my bad dream, I was not fortunate enough to see my mother again.’ Retchung then said, ‘Tell me, Master, in what condition was your house and whom did you meet first?’ And Milarepa continued: The first people I encountered were some herdsmen. That was in the upper valley from where I could see my house. Pretending ignorance, I asked then the name of the region and who the landowners were. They answered truthfully. Then pointing out my own house, I said, ‘And that place down there, what is it called? What is the owner’s name?’ One of the herdsmen said, ‘That house is called Four Columns and Eight Beams. It has no living owner, only a ghost.’ ‘Are the inhabitants dead or have they left the village?’ I asked. ‘At one time the master of this house was one of the wealthiest in the region. He died prematurely, leaving an only son, who was still young. Because the father made his will unwisely, the cousins seized all the son’s property. When the son grew up, to punish them for seizing his wealth, he brought misfortune on the village by casting spells and sending hailstorms.’ ‘Perhaps the inhabitants fear his guardian deity and dare not look at the house and field, let alone approach them,’ I said. The herdsman continued, ‘The house contains the mother’s corpse and is haunted by her ghost. His sister abandoned her mother’s body and disappeared, no one knows where. As for son, he is either dead or lost. It is said there is a sacred book in house. Hermit, it you dare, go and see for yourself.’ ‘How much time has passed since these events?’ ‘The mother died about eight years ago. Nothing but a memory remains of the curses and the hail. I have only heard about it from others.’ So the villagers did indeed fear my guardian deity. I thought they would not dare harm me. But the certainty that my old mother was dead and my sister wandering filled me with sorrow. Weeping, I hid myself and waited until the sun went down. When it was dark, I went into the village. It was truly as in my dream. My field was overgrown with weeds. I went into my house, which had been built like a temple. Rain and dirt had fallen on the sacred books, Castle of Jewels. Rats and mice had made nests there, covering the books with their droppings. At this sight, I became pensive; and my heart was filled with sadness. I entered the main room. The ruins of the hearth mingling with dirt formed a heap where weeds grew and flourished. There were many bleached and crumbled bones. I realised that these were the bones of my mother. At the memory of her I choked with emotion and, overcome with grief, I nearly fainted. Immediately thereafter, I remembered the lamas instructions. Unifying my consciousness with that of my mother and with the enlightened mind of the Kagyu lamas, I seated myself upon my mothers bones and meditated with a pure awareness without being distracted even for a moment in body, speech, or mind. I saw the possibility of liberating my father and mother from the suffering of the cycle of birth and death. Seven days passed and I emerged from my meditation. I began to reflect: Being convinced of the futility of samsara, I will have a reliquary made from the bones of my mother, and as payment I will give the books. Castle of Jewels. After that, I will go to Horse Tooth White Rock and dedicate myself to meditation both night and day for the rest of my life and will kill myself if I so much as think of the Eight Worldly Reactions. If I succumb to the law of desire, may the guardian deities of religion take my life. I repeated this terrible oath again and again from the depths of my heart. I gathered together the bones of my mother and the books and paid homage to them, after having cleansed them of the dust and bird droppings. The books were not too damaged by rain and could still be read. On my back I took the first pan of the books which was undamaged, and the bones of my mother I carried in the folds of my chuba. I was filled with the futility of samsara. Overcome with immeasurable sorrow, I sang this Song of Equanimity, pledging myself to the essential purpose of the Dharma: O Venerable, Compassionate, and Unchanging One, In accord with the prophecy of Marpa the Translator, Here in the demonic prison of my homeland I find a teacher of ephemeral illusions. Bless me, that I may absorb the truths Offered by this teacher. Everything that exists Is transitory and in constant movement. And especially this world of samsara Is devoid of essential purpose and value. Rather than engage in futile actions I must devote myself to the essential purpose of the Dharma. At first when there was a father, There was no son. When there was a son, there was no longer a father, Our meeting was illusion. I, son, will practice the true Dharma. I go to meditate at Horse Tooth White Rock. When there was a mother, there was no son. Now that I have come, my old mother is dead, Our meeting was illusion. I, son, will practice the true Dharma. I go to meditate at Horse Tooth White Rock. When there was a sister, there was no brother. Now that her brother has come, she has wandered away, Our meeting was illusion. I, son, will practice the true Dharma. I go to meditate at Horse Tooth White Rock. When there were holy books, there was no veneration. Now that I venerate them, they are damaged by rain, Our meeting was illusion. I, son, will practice the true Dharma. I go to meditate at Horse Tooth White Rock. When there was a house, there was no master. Now that the master has come, it is in ruins, Our meeting was illusion. I, son, will practice the true Dharma. I go to meditate at Horse Tooth White Rock. When there was a fertile field, there was no master. Now that the master has come, it is overgrown with weeds, Our meeting was illusion. I, son, will practice the true Dharma. I go to meditate at Horse Tooth White Rock. House, homeland, and fields Are of a world without true benefit. Let the ignorant take them. As a hermit I go to seek liberation. Compassionate Father, Marpa the Translator, Bless this mendicant so that he may meditate in solitude.
Posted on: Sat, 19 Jul 2014 10:29:12 +0000
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