First Thought Best Thought, 108 Poems, by Chogyam Trungpa

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MEETINGS WITH REMARKABLE PEOPLE

Banana aluminum,
Wretched secondhand pressure cooker,
Crucifixions made out of plastic,
Jumbo jet,
Iron grid that is fit for cooking but not for eating, with a permanent
garlic stain,
Rooster with its feathers and flashy crest and waddles of elegant pink
flashy brocade
Sometimes we wonder whether we should be one of those,
Or else should completely fake the whole thing,
The gentleman with slim mustache and note pad under his arm
Told us that we shouldn't fake anything,
Otherwise we are going to run into trouble with BDS as well as IRS.
The gentleman with belly button, weighing 300 pounds,
Told us that if we're going to fake anything,
We had better cut our aortas first.
A lady too told us the same thing;
She was wearing a tigerskin skirt,
She had a giant smile but one tooth,
She had turquoise hair but elegant gaze
From her single eye,
She was drooping,
She seemed to be wearing some kind of lipstick and powder make-up,
Her earlobes were big,
She was wearing giant gold earrings
She told us they were 24 carat
And she complained that they were sometimes too heavy on her
head;
She also told us that her hair was unmanageable,
That her neck muscles have too much blood power;
However, she stood there telling us all those things.
She brought along a companion of hers,
A lovely maiden wearing a necklace of pearl,
Smiling, with a light complexion,
Riding on a white lion.
Then she brought a third friend who was very peculiar:
One wonders whether he was man or woman, human or animal;
He had a most gaping mouth opening at his stomach,
With somewhat polite gaze;
He possessed nine heads,
All of them expressing certain expressions
And wearing conch-shell rings in their earlobes;
When you look at him, his faces have the same expressions,
But with seeming distortion in every face of delight.
Can you imagine seeing such people and receiving and talking to
them?
Ordinarily, if you told such stories to anybody, they would think
you were a nut case;
But, in this case, I have to insist that I am not a nut case:
I witnessed these extraordinary three friends in the flesh.
Surprisingly, they all spoke English;
They had no problem in communicating in the midst of American
surroundings.
I am perfectly certain that they are capable of turning off the light or
turning on the television.
What do you say about this whole thing?
Don't you think meeting such sweet friends is worthwhile and
rewarding?
Moreover, they promise me that they will protect me all along.
Don't you think they are sweet?
And I believe them, that they can protect mc.
I would say meeting them is meeting with remarkable men and
women:
Let us believe that such things do exist.

8 December 1977

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INTERNATIONAL AFFAIRS (THE COSMIC JOKE OF 1977)

In this godforsaken place so-called planet Earth,
Rainstorms thundershowers snowfreeze floods and typhoons constantly occur.
Somewhere there is good harvest, somewhere there is famine,
Shortage of something-or-other,
Aberfan chaos,
Liverpool dock strike,
Sheffield problem with stainless steel workers.
Jesuits in China were kicked out by the Communists.
Catholics do hard work in Thailand, but the Buddhist school system
makes it ineffective.
Sri Lanka is having a paranoia with the Sacred Heart people.
Mr. Park experiences slap on the face from trying to buy the U.S.
senators.
Indira Gandhi is fading in Desai's pollution with bhagans of Gandhi supplication.
Sadat is trying to trick the world but stepping on the dog-shit of
Arab manure.
Madame Mao with her coyote true-believing hunting expedition has
been caught by the suburbian Hua.
Dung Hsiao Peng is resurrected like the Christ and planning capitalized Communism.
Moscow proclaims its steady Kremlin victory, which was won sixty
years ago.
Brezhnev half-dead thinking that he is a good huntsman and the
greatest general in the world,
Choking with Stalinist nostalgia,
Nixon dead corpse has made American statesman into Carter
embarrassment;
Maybe George Washington did lie occasionally.
Human rights program is not all that religious, since nobody in the
world believes in true-believing any more.
Jimmy cardigan approach docs not work in conflict with Congress's
suit and tie.
Trudeau trumpet did not provide fanfare for the Quebecois because
one note was missing--
The French homemade folksong.
Hong Kong cannot be repossessed because the Chinese fear unity between U.S. and U.K.
Japan cannot make Australasia connections because they felt a bad
slap after the Second World War;
Sony and Mitsubishi might save their own lives, but they are doubtfully courageous.
German boldness is hooha, yet good living in the Deutschland provides a reason to be against the North Sea oil of the U. K.
France like a drunken sheep perpetually propagates Francois;
Giscard posing with his daughter for a campaign portrait worked,
but dining with citizens seemed to end quite abruptly.
MIG Mirage Phantom and the vertical take-off of the English do
not work in the sale of arms because Arabs have lopsided the
purchase.
Maybe King Hussein is the shrewdest customer for all these things;
But since Hussein is questionably sane or not, no doubt the Russians
will do double takes on all this.
Burma's Ne Win feels that he is able to contain the Buddhists while
courting socialism by being polite to the Chinese.
The Cambodian Prince is whispering about his royal position in the
country, while his activities are proscribed by the party of the
delirious generals and the circumcised party members
Madame Mao had a slight problem, to say the least, when she tried
to ban classical Chinese opera.
Rhodesians try to compensate by being good and bad at the same
time, with seeming kind hatred to their natives.
South Africa is cooped up with a big gun and no one to shoot
except the wall where the gun is;
Black majority means that soul food might be tastier than roast beef
and Yorkshire pudding.
Britain experiences cosmic shock with the problem of existence and
nonexistence--
The only saving grace is Her Majesty the Queen in marketing her
underpants,
Which might work for a while, but still is questionable:
Will Charles be referred to as Chuck?
Kingdom of Spain:
Carlos has his own tortilla--to make his mind up about jumping to the conclusion of the Communists;
It is uncertain whether he is the tortilla or the leftists are his tortilla--
Being too good does not help;
Generalissimo has no doubt appeared to Carlos many times in vision
after his death.
Mongolians in Ulan Bator have felt that as long as they kept with the
Russians they were safe,
But their nerve center has begun to leak to the Chinese People's
Republic;
It would be much better for them to milk horses as they have done:
Good cheese might come out of that.

And what about the United Nations?
We begin to feel the United Nations is not even a great apple strudel.
The United Nations is shortcake;
It is well-cooked seafood without wasabi.
The United Nations is a well-brewed nonexistence alcohol that nobody will drink.
However, union of nations might provide some hope and fear so
that we could actually respect it as more than a buffer,
As Baha'ullah would say.
The United Nations seems to be a garbage chute;
The United Nations is a dilettante true-believer in the world's unity;
The United Nations is a giant building in New York City, but
nobody knows what's happening inside;
On the whole we could say the United Nations is pampas grass that
grows around a Japanese garden
There is no reason to criticize, because the United Nations doesn't
provoke any bravery;
The United Nations is a gentleman's underpants: nobody dares to
criticize or cultivate;
The United Nations is good theory but not good practice;
The United Nations provides good school, but naughty children can
throw ink blops at the teacher while having no basic unity.
Jimmy Carter gave a splendid talk at the United Nations;
Khrushchev pounded his shoe on the desk;
Idi Amin vomited his rhetoric at the General Assembly;
The Pope sanctified the United Nations, telling them that peace and
godliness are the only way;
The Dalai Lama was rejected by the United Nations.
Flying the colors of all the countries, the United Nations looks
heroic and beautiful,
But its own blue and white feels grey and beige.
Receiving the complaints of all countries, the United Nations becomes a polite wasteland.
Since the absence of U Thant the United Nations is a fish-and-chip
shop where all nations are expected to add sugar instead of vinegar.

In this case, the world is ending--
What shall we do about it?
Let us bring the Great Eastern Sun, with or without the United Nations.
Let us have champagne breakfasts celebrating the rising sun.
Hail to the Union of Nations!
Hail to the Union of Nations!
Hail to the Union of Nations!

December 1977
Charlemont, Massachusetts

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ONE SOUND

One sound
Thousand ripples--
Taizan jumps in the sand.

December 1977

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DIXVILLE NOTCH (PURRINGTON HOUSE (AND C.F.))

A glowing worm is said to be brilliant,
But the brilliant sun is more convincing;
Sweet smile seems to be the best,
But genuine affection is more convincing.
When I was riding with you
On that winding road of our mutual snow mountain,
You said, "Oops!"
I said, "What?"
Nonetheless we are both fascinated and intrigued by our mutual trip,
Fueled by immense passion and a glowing sense of humor.
We might find snowdrops somewhere:
You said you didn't like the melting snow,
You said you liked the fresh snow
I was intrigued by the way your constructive mind worked.
While gazing at an icicle,
At first a little one on its way, melting,
You then discovered that little one becoming bigger:
Such rediscovery of the phenomenal world and appreciation of detail--
Indra and Brahma and Avalokiteshvara
Would have found this appreciation so sweet and glowing

When we met,
You were merely there;
When we talked,
You were tongue-tied.
And again when we met,
You were more than there;
When we talked,
You were very articulate.
Our mutual guess became like the dance of the dragonfly:
You guessed,
I guessed;
Did anybody guess?
Did anyone guess?
Sometimes one wonders whether we should give away this mutual
secret to anybody.

Spring gives way to summer
And summer gives way to autumn;
Autumn gives way to winter:
Then we are back to square one,
Watching icicles again.
When you are attacked by this and that,
You should hold the needle of nowness
Threaded with our mutual passion.
When you are hungry and fearful of the small big world,
You should look at the Great Eastern Sun
With the eye of our mutual passion.
When you are lonely,
You should beat the drum of sanity
With the stick of our mutual passion.
When you feel awkward,
You should drink the sake of confidence
With the lips of our mutual passion.
When you feel you are nobody,
You should hold the falcon of great humor
With the hand of our mutual passion.
When you feel spoiled,
You should fly the banner of genuineness
With the win of our mutual passion.

You should have no problem in propagating our mutual passion--
As long as, or as short as,
A journey's been made
In the name of the biggest or the smallest,
Which transcends eruption of stomach.
Peacock magpie wolf
Rattlesnakes equipped with antennae
Jackal polar bear shaggy dog
Taj Mahal
Good wasabi
Chicken feet
Rothman's Special--
All of these, wicked and workable, are our world.
Including all those there is no problem,
Whether the so-called phenomenal world is sweet or sour, painful or
pleasurable.
We should make sure that we do not put them in the oven
And make a convenient loaf of bread of them.
Let us not regard the world as one,
Or, for that matter, let us not regard the world as multiple,
As long as we dance and sing, sweep the floor, wash the dirty dishes
And celebrate in the name of satin silk diamond ruby emerald and
pearls,
Fresh water clinking with ice,
We are producing rich cold powerful ideal world,
With a touch of warmness:
Let us project to this universe our mutual passion.

If I may go further:
We are not deaf, not dumb,
We are not mute.
We are the world's best possible goodliness--
Outspoken, exaggerated, understated fanfare,
With the goodness of goodness.
The wicked will tremble and the good will celebrate:
Impossibility is accomplished in the realm of possibility--
Fathomless space being measured,
Depth of passion being explored.
Let us eat snail adorned with fortune cookies;
Let us drink amrita fizzed with our mutual humor.
Let us ride the horse of delightful disestablished world,
Saddled with our mutual passion.

Did you know the sun rises in the East?
Don't believe those who tell you that the sun rises in the West.
Shall we have our mutual celebration?
One who fights is eternally poor;
One who shares is victorious:
Let us celebrate in our mutual passion.

21 March 1978

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AFTERTHOUGHT

Such a precious human body,
Difficult to rediscover;
Such precious pain,
Not difficult to discover;
Such an old story
Is by now a familiar joke.
You and I know the facts and the case history;
We have a mutual understanding of each other
Which has never been sold or bought by anyone.
Our mutual understanding keeps the thread of sanity.
Sometimes the thread is electrified,
Sometimes it is smeared with honey and butter;
Nevertheless, we have no regrets.
Since I am here,
Seemingly you are here too.
Let us practice!
Sitting is a jewel that ornaments our precious life.

21 March 1978

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DON'T CONFUSE THIS FOR TRICK-OR-TREAT

Those who sit
Shouldn't be cowards,
Those who sit
Shouldn't be tricky,
Those who sit
Shouldn't be resourceful,
Those who sit
Should be basic people
Who sit--
But no tricks of
Tricky
Fuzzy
Jumpy
Creepy
Thinking
Funny.
Sitters in the buddhadharma world
Should be decent.

I met a sitter who said
She could build the Buddhist version of Disneyland--
If we would permit her not to sit for at least forty-five minutes.

I met a sitter who said,
"I could ape like a monkey, growl like a tiger;
I could huff and puff and get lots of money for Vajradhatu--
If you would permit me not to sit for at least forty-five minutes."

I met a sitter who shrieked like a loon,
Who said,
"I don't like what's going on. I never did.
Either I have room to fix things up or I'll quit.
In any case, I want to be acknowledged--
If you would permit me not to sit for at least forty-five minutes."

I met a sitter who is a foogy-doogy owl,
Who said,
"Come to think of it,
I don't like the administration because they make me sit.
On the whole, I prefer not to be manipulated by the establishment.
I feel fooled and conned, wretched and abused.
I prefer not to see the daylight--
If only you would permit me not to sit for at least forty-five
minutes."

I met a sitter who has developed a snout like a jackal,
Who said,
"I would like to collect the crumbs;
I would like to explore them,
So that I could feel whether the Vajrayana makes sense.
These crumbs of Hinayana and Mahayana are worthwhile.
I prefer to regurgitate, and I would be delighted to eat up my own
vomit,
And quite possibly I could take it home in lunch-packs
And have a good holiday--
If only you would permit me not to sit for at least forty-five
minutes."

I met a sitter who is a prairie dog,
Who said,
"This madhyamika logic and Buddhist reasoning is like eating ants
as opposed to collecting nuts.
I don't like theory anyway;
I would like to have nutshells
If only you would permit me not to sit for at least forty-five
minutes."

I met a sitter who is an oily cat,
Who said,
"This Vajra Politics is for the stupid seagulls.
I would prefer to meow rather than fly and caw.
I feel threatened by being fed.
I prefer to do my own hunting:
You can swallow a few poisons here and there in hunting--
If only you would permit me not to sit for at least forty-five
minutes."

Many people scheme,
Trying to occupy,
Trying to use logical mind.
But when you sit,
These schemes begin to turn into cow's dung.
Which might have good manure possibilities.
Other than that,
We find nobody has developed the lucky strike.
We have to keep on sitting,
All the time.
Sit all the time.
Day time.
Night time.
Early.
Late.
In the midst of your dream.
Who could care less that you're sitting so much?
Somebody might be thankful that you're sitting so much.
Sunrise.
Sunset.
Good days.
Bad days.
Making a mockery of your self-indulgence and ingenuity.
Good manipulation
Good reestablishment
Of your missing the point in the midst of your own yawn.
Fundamentally there are no sympathizers who will accept your lucky
wormstrike:
Lucky cozychickengooddumplinghoneylakeincrediblygoodmassage
goodbreakgoodbreathingspaceallareyourtricksanyway.
Nobody gets anybody.
Good wasabi.

We pre-smart you before you outsmart us.
Everybody knows what you're trying to get at.
All the tricks are predictably silly.
So let us celebrate in our silly tricks--
Hallelujah!
Corny tricks and trips are bad noodles.
Try better next time,
If you can at all.

22 March 1978
Vajradhatu Seminary
Dixville Notch, New Hampshire

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ETERNAL GUEST

In the jungle of passion,
The warrior of the tiger roams;
In the flame of aggression,
The diamond vajra sparks;
In the ocean of ignorance,
The iceberg of cold awake rumbles.
Bounded by love
Swallows still try to measure the sky;
Nursed with the nectar of amrita
Still we look for a nanny goat's nipples--
Such as we are:
But we do not give up.

We should not give up:
We are the children of the vajra world.
We should sing the anthem of lion's roar;
We should cry the shriek of fearlessness.
Come and join us!
Let us be wakeful for our own sake;
Let us be decent for others' sake.
My love to you.

6 April 1978

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SWALLOWING THE SUN AND MOON WITHOUT LEAVING THE WORLD IN DARKNESS (GOOD LAY OF WISDOM)

Crooks have their way of handling their world;
Honest ones will stitch and sew timidly.
Crooks have a way to proclaim their victory;
But the honest stumble, bump and stutter.
Crooks have their way to dress in nouveau-riche fashion;
But the honest wash, clean and press.
Crooks have their way to kick, knock, run;
The honest will take a taxicab.
The crooks will assume, expect and consume;
The honest will speak softly with timid smiles.
The crooks are usually dirty, oiled with their own sweat;
The honest are clean, well-groomed--at least free of dandruff.
We have a lot of reference points here--
However, I would suggest you swallow the sun and moon simultaneously.
That does not mean you are a crook,
But an honest man not wasting time.

Since we met, I have been trying to make you an honest person.
You had your little ways;
Your being honest is wicked.
Sometimes I wonder who taught you that:
Maybe your Canadian honest crooks,
Or your crooked honest Canadians.
However, someone talked you into being a timid person.
Some quarters of theism would say:
If you are a person of proclamation in early life, it is bad;
You should not take anything, even if it is given to you;
You should say thank you for everything, even if it is yours;
You should learn to say no thank you if things are not yours;
You are supposed to watch your P's and Q's if things are uncertain.
In short, you should not hurt a flea;
If a flea is your neighbor, turn the other cheek.
Nevertheless, if there is a big disagreement,
You should not hesitate to cut his throat
And disbelievers in Christendom are animals--
You might as well make good Yorkshire pudding out of them.

However, when your shoe walks without you
And your hat floats without you,
You wonder who's in them.
I think you should be startled,
You have a perfect right to be startled.
We're not joking, are we?
Of course not.

Buddha died in bed;
Christ died on the cross;
However, you might die in bed on a cross.
We shouldn't be too concerned with little details like that.
Let's turn the whiskers of cat,
Polish the nails of poodle.
Let's not tiptoe, anyhow.
Take a big chunk out of my life;
Make a good cake out of it.
Let us roll in a kingsize snowbed,
Let us sniff Mitsuko,
Let us pluck hair off the tiger's back,
Let us eat sausage of Brahman bull,
Let us catch the sun with a net,
Let us catch the moon with bait,
Let us not tiptoe.
Since your world is mine,
There is no problem with polite society
As long as you don't perform the mudra of chicken,
As long as you don't proclaim like a duck,
As long as you don't float like a baby baboon.
Let us proclaim the lion's roar,
Let us fly like a seagull,
Let us shriek like an eagle:
Which reassures us that there is no maggot in our brains.
Let us proclaim in the name of delight and love and fearlessness.
We could eat our eggs and bacon happily ever after.

17 April 1978

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SADDHARMA PUNSTERS

In the primordial world there is no language
There is no need for translation.
In the manifested world there is the language of onomatopoeia.
In the fully evolved world we have languages of direct expression.
So we stumble, in this way:
The translator says, "What do you mean by Ocean?"
The interpreter says, "I mean ocean."
The translator says, "What do you mean by ocean?"
The interpreter says, "I mean ocean,
Such as Mediterranean, Pacific, Atlantic, Indian, Antarctic--
On the whole I mean oceanic."
Then the translator says, "What do you mean by oceanic?"
The interpreter says, "I mean ocean-like."
And the translator says, "What do you mean by ocean-like?"
The interpreter says, "I mean salty, waves, divides continents, ships can sail through."
Then Robin Kornman says, "What do you mean by: Ships can sail through?"
The interpreter says, "Ships are miniature islands where people can stay, and they commute from one continent to another continent so that dry goods can be delivered."
Then Larry Mermelstein says, "What do you mean by dry goods?"
The interpreter says, "Dry goods means that they are dry because they are carried from mainland to mainland in ships without being spoiled by the water."
Lodro Dorje says, "Ah, that makes sense!"
David Rome says, "There is a grammatical error in this language. Why do we have to say: Mainland to mainland? Since they have to travel by water, they are bound to get wet somewhat. Therefore we might say: From off the mainland on to the mainland. On the whole, if the water is wet, why do we bother to say wet as opposed to water? But on the other hand if water means wet, why do we say water instead of saying wet? Why don't we use one language? Either we should decide to say wet or water."
So the translators go on and the interpreters expound their thing
And one of these days, who's kidding who--
Whether skull means head or head means skull;
And we have confusion about why jackal is coyote or coyote is jackal;
And we have further problems: why worm is snake, and so forth.
Until the philosophy is carried out between translators and interpreters,
We will have to talk about why blue is not black,
Why a round earth,
Why the solar system.
So we end up agreeing with each other,
And the final agreement and conclusion between translators and interpreters is that the truth of suffering and the truth of prajna have no synonyms.
Let us be that way;
Let us understand those two,
So we can translate happily with the interpreter,
So we can interpret happily with the translator.
Iris is blue.
Blood is red.
Bone is white.
Marrow is grey.
When we look at the first sun we squint our eyes.
When we touch our finger to fire we go Ouch.
When we pee in the toilet, we assume a serious face.
When we wipe our bottoms, we assume a pragmatic look.
Let us translate that way;
Let us continue that way,
With or without Kornman Mermelstein Dorje Rome,
Happily ever after or sadly.
Let us translate fully.
The truth is:
When you say mind,
The translation is mind,
The interpretation is mind.
Good luck!

30 April 1978

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I MISS YOU SO MUCH

I miss the Regent
And that transforms into clarity,
The luminosity which perpetually lights itself:
No need for switch or kindling wood.
I miss my son
And that transforms into energy,
Unyielding energy and play
Which can perform the cosmic dance.
I miss my queen
And that transforms into the power of speech,
Utterance of genuineness and nowness
Which cuts thoughts and proclaims the vision of indestructibility.
I miss the princess consort
And that transforms into passion;
Every moment becomes coemergent twist--
It is beyond coming or going.
The pain of the delight
Lights up the universe.
Choicelessly I remain as flaming vajra.

3 July 1978