Wordly Things are Pitiful

Reflecting on how easy it is to get swept up in wanting and not-wanting, based on misunderstanding the impermanent and not-self nature of all things, the activities of this life, and the apparent pleasures that arise in it are seductive and yet illusory.

How true it is that that which we grasp after slips like sand through our fingers, however hard we try to grasp.

How true it seems to be that the more we grasp after that which we think will bring us happiness, the more empty we feel, and the more we feel we need to do more grasping.

How blessed are the moments when we see through this whole game, and the extraordinary unnecessary nature of the way we grope and grasp is seen in clarity of mind, to be the doomed to failure exercise it truly is.

When mind opens into clarity and emptiness, we see at once the spacious unfixedness of all that appears, and recognise the futility of grasping and rejecting that which is mere appearance.

How peaceful the mind is, which doesn’t try to mistakenly solidify that which cannot be solidified.

How beautiful the release when grasping is relinquished!

How wonderful the teachings of the Gurus, who point the path to such unmistaken realisation!

How blessed indeed are we whose path is illuminated by the clarity of their teachings!

How wonderful – Eh Ma Ho!

The words of Jetsun Milarepa, the peerless one, on the futility of grasping at worldly concerns:

Alas, how pitiful are worldly things!
Like precious jade they cherish
Their bodies, yet like ancient trees
They are doomed in the end to fall.
Sometimes bridle your wild thoughts
And pay heed to the Dharma.

Though you gather wealth
As hard as bees collect their honey,
The ills that upon you may fall
Can never be foretold,
Sometimes bridle your wild thoughts
And pay heed to the Dharma.

One may offer to a Lama
Loads of silk for many years;
But when an ill-fortune descends,
Like a fading rainbow
One's faith at once dissolves.
Sometimes bridle your wild thoughts
And pay heed to the Dharma.

Like a pair of mated beasts,
Lovers live together,
But calamity by the wolf's attack
May fall on you at any time.
Sometimes bridle your wild thoughts
And pay heed to the Dharma.

You may cherish your dear son,
Like a hen hatching her egg;
But a falling rock may crush it at any time.
Sometimes bridle your wild thoughts
And pay heed to the Dharma.

A face may be as pretty as a flower,
Yet at any time it can be spoiled by violent hail.
Think at times of how this world
Is sorry, transient and futile.

Though son and mother have affection
For each other, when discords arise,
Like foes they clash and quarrel,
Sometimes towards all sentient beings
You should feel compassion.

Baking in the warm sunlight
May be pleasant and a comfort,
But a storm of woe may rise
And choke you at any time,
Remember sometimes the deprived,
And give alms to those in need.

Oh, dear men and women patrons,
For him who cannot practise Dharma,
All his life will be meaningless,
All his acts wrong-doings!