During the time of Milarepa, the tradition of “Vajra-Songs” was very common. It was kind of a custom that the yogis would explain their experiences through poetry. These “Vajra-Songs” are not normal songs, but based on meditation experience and realization. That is why they are called “Vajra”-Songs and those of Milarepa have become especially famous. Although the language is old-fashioned, the content is timeless. It could be at any place or any time in this world because it all has to do with humans and with experiences of the mind, which is not limited by time and place. This is why we can also read them in our century, identify with them, and get inspired by them. Milarepa’s example is one of intensive practice, which only very few people can do today. His songs still talk to us because the experiences he is describing—the whole vision, aim, and view—are the same in our context.
The reason we chose Milarepa as a course topic here in Benalmadena is, of course, because of Lopön Tsechu Rinpoche. He was very focused on Milarepa, who was his big inspiration. In his youth, he followed Milarepa’s example, and he inspired people to visit Milarepa’s caves and places in Bhutan and Nepal. That was very important for him. As we are together here to celebrate Lopön Tsechu Rinpoche and his vision, the topic “Milarepa” fits very well. Those of you who went to the Tso Lhakang in Nobgang, Bhutan—Lopön Tsechu Rinpoche’s birthplace—saw the wall paintings of Milarepa’s life. It is one of the places in Bhutan that Rinpoche encouraged others to see because there aren’t many places where you have Milarepa’s life depicted in this way.
Milarepa spent most of his time in different caves. Sometimes he would go down to the villages and people would give him some food. Then he would go back to the caves and continue his practice. This song took place when he went down to a village. Most of the places he stayed were in south central Tibet, close to the border with Nepal. Today you find a lot of his places on what is now the Nepali side of the Himalayas.
The Jetsun went south towards Lhogo in Kungthang, where there were many people who had gathered for a fair. Among them was a very handsomely dressed young lady who said, “Yogin, what is your country and who are your father, mother and relatives?”
In reply, Mila sang this song:
In this song, Milarepa is presenting his “family,” at the request of the beautiful woman who asked him. But it seems that his “family” is a bit different from what one normally thinks of as one’s family.
As always, Milarepa starts by praising his teacher:
I prostrate to the lord gurus,
I ask you to grant your blessings.
My father is the all-good.
My mother is the good being.
My elder brother is the king of learning.
My aunt is the luminous torch.
My sister is the lady of faith.
My friend is the self-existing wisdom.
My son is the little child of insight.
My books are the natural existence of the phenomenal world.
I ride the stallion of the wind of consciousness.
My patrons are the four provinces of Ü and Tsang.
I myself am the little white offering attendant.
Thus, Mila sang.
The maiden said, “A la la, how wondrous, how great indeed. But we worldly persons do not understand. Please tell us what you mean.”
So Mila sang this song:
I never repeat a previous song,
But now I will explain this clearly.
My only father, the all-good,
Gave me as allowance the view and meditation;
I never had a worldly idea.
“All-good”—Kunsang in Tibetan—refers to the basic nature, which has to do with the ultimate qualities of the mind. That is why he says it is that which gives him the view and the meditation. He is describing how he experiences everything, and that is on the basis of the nature of his mind. That is why he calls it the “father, the all-good”.
My mother, the good being,
Nursed me with the teat of oral instructions;
I was never starved for practice.
The usual function of a mother is nursing, giving food, and taking care of a child. Here he is comparing this with the teachings, the oral instructions, he received. This also has to do with how he had to go through a lot of hardships to get the instructions. Dagmema, the wife of Marpa, was always trying to make sure that he got the instructions. Here he is also expressing his gratitude to her. She was communicating and sometimes she was maybe prolonging his development because she didn’t like to see him suffer. But, through her influence, he received the teachings.
My elder brother, the king of learning,
Gave me the sword of prajna and upaya;
I cut the doubt about outer and inner dharmas.
Here he is talking about the whole process of practicing the dharma, where we first get the teachings, then get inspired by them, and then we try to understand them. Some of the teachings we cannot understand immediately. Instead of just skipping them, we try to understand them. The only way we can do that is by having our doubts clarified. “Doubts” here is not meant in the way of wondering if something is right or wrong, if it makes sense or not, but it is doubts about the meaning. If there is something in the teachings we don’t understand, then it is not okay to just accept that. In order to continue and grow in our practice, we have to find out what it means. That is what is meant by clarifying our doubts and, for that, we have to ask our teacher. In this process of clarifying all our questions, we get more convinced that the dharma is true, we get more understanding and that increases our trust. When our trust grows, we will get more courage and again we can clarify more questions. In this process, we increase our wisdom. There are two kinds of wisdom mentioned. When they both are mentioned, then usually one is about knowing a lot of things. But here it is more about the wisdom of understanding through experience—not to just have a concept, but to get a clear idea so that when we meditate on it, we can get a direct experience of it. The second kind of wisdom is the highest wisdom where we fully experience that our mind is the basis of everything.
This whole process of getting all our questions answered so that we know what we are doing is here the “brother.” Then we like to use the practice because we see that it makes sense and it motivates us because we see that it is also useful for others.
My aunt, the luminous torch,
Made me look into the mirror of my mind;
This has never been tarnished by the dirt of habitual patterns.
The “luminous torch” is the clear quality of the mind. It’s the quality of our mind that makes us able to know and understand. Sometimes it’s also called the “Clear Light,” but it has many more names. It’s the fact that all the time we are experiencing something and that the mind can know. It has the ability to know itself, to know things, and to perceive things. The mind is not like a table or a stone, dead without perception. This clear quality of the mind is not just about perceiving outer objects, but about perceiving itself. Independent of outer things, there is this knowing quality all the time, of which we are not always aware. Perceiving outer things all the time, we forget that the perceiver itself is more important, because it is there all the time.
The perceiving mind itself—the experiencer—is not dependent on anything. It is not caught by our habits. Usually, when we are not identifying with our experiencing mind, we follow the habits.
This luminous quality of the mind, the fact that mind can experience, Milarepa calls his “aunt.”
My sister, the lady of faith,
Untied the knot of miserliness;
This yogin never had food or wealth.
Even if I had, I would never have scrimped and saved.
We have the word “faith” in this translation, but I think it’s more about basic trust. If you do your 100 percent best in your practice, as well as you can, then things will actually work out.
It reminds me about an incident that Ole and I had with the 16th Karmapa in Ireland. He once called us into his room and suddenly gave us a money note. He said, “By giving you this note, I hereby promise you that as long as you keep the right motivation and do the dharma practice for other beings and never fall into the worldly dharmas, I guarantee you that you don’t have to worry about getting enough to eat or having clothes to wear. You will always have enough money.”
It was a very surprising situation, as we were not thinking about that at all. Of course, it inspired us to think, “That is what we have to do.” It was like a commitment and very powerful.
I think what Milarepa meant here is something like that. It has also to do with checking oneself. It doesn’t mean that one should not do what is necessary but, if one is really doing one’s best and reminds oneself all the time, then one can trust that whatever happens is okay. It’s all right, whether it’s easy or difficult; one can learn from it. One doesn’t have to regret. If one keeps the motivation, that is fine. One does as much as one can do. A lot of unnecessary speculations are freed then.
My friend, the self-existing wisdom,
Was my inseparable companion;
We never had the bad tempers to fight.
If one is an inseparable friend with one’s own self-existing wisdom, that means that one is already realized. Milarepa is speaking here out of his own realization, totally identifying with his wisdom-mind. He is showing the example of something that everybody will get, not only him. We all have this wisdom and whoever looks for it will also find it. That’s why we are doing what we are doing.
My son, the child of insight,
Holds the family lineage of the victorious ones;
I never raised a snot-nosed child.
Milarepa is comparing his “insight-child” to a normal child, but—even though it sounds funny—in a positive way. He’s describing how the transmission is a continuity of the family. Similar to a normal family where a child will be the one who continues the family, the transmission that goes back to Buddha’s time always goes from teacher to student. If it is understood and realized, then the transmission continues. Then there is no break and no loss of the transmission. That is what we all profit from today, even though this was written around a thousand years ago. We still have the “life-line” to the transmission because it was never interrupted. It goes from one teacher to the next and that is how we also get it, and how we can experience and continue it. Any teaching or empowerment that we get has that transmission; otherwise, we wouldn’t get it. It’s only passed on when it hasn’t been interrupted.
Illustration by Nicholas Roerich, Milarepa, the One Who Harkened, 1925. Courtesy Nicholas Roerich Museum, New York, USA
