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 lama's instructions. Unifying my consciousness with that of my mother and with the enlightened mind of the Kagyu lamas, I seated myself upon my mother's 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.' 

Thus, having expressed my suffering, I left for the home of the tutor who had long ago taught me to read. He was dead, so I offered the first pan of the Castle of Jewels to his son, saying, 'I will give you the rest of this sacred book. Make earthen figurines with the bones of my mother.' 

He answered, 'Your guardian deities will surely follow your book, so I do not want it, but I will help you mold the figurines." 

"My guardian deities will not follow my gifts.' 

Then all is well,' he said. 

With my help he made the figurines with the bones of my mother.(1) We then performed the consecration ceremony and installed the figurines in a stupa. Afterward I prepared to leave. 

The son of my tutor said, 'Stay here for a few days and talk, and I will attend to your needs.' 

I answered, 'I have no time for talk. I yearn to meditate.' 

Then stay tonight. Tomorrow when you leave I will give you provisions.' 

I consented to stay, and he continued, 'When you were young, you vanquished your enemies by magic. Now that you are in the prime of life, you profess a religion, which is marvellous. Someday you will become a great saint. From which lama did you receive 'instructions, and what were they?' He asked me very detailed questions. 

I answered, 'I have obtained the teaching of the Great Perfection. But above all, I met Mara.' 

That is amazing! If this were so, it would be good if you were to repair your house, marry Zessay, and continue in the footsteps of your lama.' 

I answered: 
The Lama Marpa took a wife for the benefit of sentient beings. But I have neither the intention nor the ability to act as he does. To do so would be like a hare imagining it could follow in the footsteps of a lion. It would fall into an abyss and surely die. Saddened by the cycle of birth and death, I wish for nothing but to meditate and obey the teachings of the lama. The very basis of his teaching is that this meditation be practiced in solitude. It is in this way that I shall continue in his path. Only by meditation can I fulfil his hopes. It will serve the cause of the teaching and will help all sentient beings. It will even save my father and my mother, and will bring about the realisation of my own aim. I only know how to meditate, and I can do nothing else. 

'I have no other thought. I came back to my village chiefly because my parents had owned a house and property here. The disappearance of all my worldly goods has intensified my wish to meditate until it is now like a flame burning in my breast. 

'Others have not known such misfortune. For those who do not think of the sufferings of death and the lower realms, the sensory pleasures of life may be enough. As for myself, all these things compel me to meditate with complete disregard for food, clothing, or recognition.' 

Shaken by sobs, I sang this song: 

          'I prostrate myself at the feet of Marpa, the Perfect One. 
          Bless this mendicant that he may be free from attachments. 
          Alas! Alas! Misery, misery! 
          When I think of those who trust in worldly things, 
          I am filled with sadness. 
          To indulge in worldly things stirs up misery at its very source. 
          Swirling continuously, one is thrown into the pit of samsara. 
          What can they do, those trapped by sorrows and tribulations? 
          There is no other course than devotion to the Dharma. 
          Venerable Marpa, Immutable, Upholder of Ultimate Truth, 
          Bless this mendicant that in solitude he may live. 
          In the city of ephemeral illusion, 
          The traveller from afar has been grieved. 
          In the strange land of Gungthang 
          My flocks of sheep and the land they grazed upon 
          Are today the preys of evildoers. 
          This, too, is an example of ephemeral illusion, 
          An example which summons me to meditation. 
          The main hall at Four Columns and Eight Beams 
          Today is like the upper jaw of a lion.(2) 
          My house with its four angles, four walls, and pinnacle 
          Is today like the ear of a donkey. 
          This, too, is an example of ephemeral illusion, 
          An example which summons me to meditation. 
          My good field, Fertile Triangle, 
          Today is devoured by weeds. 
          My cousins and my next of kin 
          Are today my enemies, 
          Having made war against us. 
          This, too, is an example of ephemeral illusion, 
          An example which summons me to meditation. 
          Today, my good father, Mila Banner of Wisdom, 
          Is no more, no trace remains. 
          My mother, White Jewel, descendant of Nyang, 
          Is nothing but crumbling bones. 
          This, too, is an example of ephemeral illusion, 
          An example which summons me to meditation. 
          The family priest, Myriad Gems of Heaven, 
          Is now a domestic servant. The holy books. Castle of Jewels, 
          Are today a nesting place for rats and mice. 
          This, too, is an example of ephemeral illusion, 
          An example which summons me to meditation. 
          My maternal uncle, Yung the Victorious, 
          Lives today amidst my enemies. 
          My sister, Peta Happy Protectress, 
          Has wandered away without leaving a trace. 
          This, too, is an example of ephemeral illusion, 
          Which summons me to a life of meditation. 
          Venerable Marpa, Compassionate and Immutable, 
          Bless this mendicant that he may meditate in solitude.' 

In grief, I sang this song. 
The son of my tutor cried out, 'It is amazing, and yet it is true !' and he sighed deeply. His wife was sobbing uncontrollably. I had seen the plight of my village, and I could not help but affirm again and again my determination to continue meditation. I kept this wish deep in my heart and, constantly practising meditation, I had no cause for remorse. 

Thus spoke Milarepa. This is the sixth chapter, in which Milarepa, convinced of the futility of samsara, resolves to dedicate himself to meditation. 
 

 
1. Bones of my mother. The bones are crushed and mixed with clay from which figurines or small stupas are made. 
 
2. Jaw of a lion. This image designates the portion of wall that overhangs. 
 
 
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