The Epic of Gesar of Ling

by Robin Kornman

  In case you don’t recognize me,

  I am Abthung Gapa Limig [Youthful Clear-Eyed Pika].

  Among pikas I am the dharma minister, and

  A dharma practitioner who has abandoned nonvirtue.

  I am a great meditator who sleeps in the rocky crags.

  Today I came here to greet Joru.

  Have you had many difficulties on your journey?

  This white scarf with nine knots

  Was in possession of the girl from Kyalo a few days back.77

  She said her name is Sengcham, and

  Since she shacked up on the sly

  With the Indian minister Berkar,

  This is their secret tryst [of shacking] scarf.

  Since they promised to be true to each other, this is also their pledge scarf.

  Since they took an oath three times, this is their oath scarf.

  Since it is a token that he not forget her, it is a reminder fee.

  Then the minister gave this scarf to me,

  And now I give it to you, Joru, in greeting.

  What I have to say is with pure intention.

  If all of your resources go to a horse,

  One day you’ll find that you’ve become a beggar.

  If all of your attention goes to a girl,

  You’ll end up losing everything you’ve worked for.

  Even though you look after your horse and provide for your wife,

  If you go too far, you may be thrown to the ground.

  Even though you cherish your sons and daughters,

  If you go too far, your descendants could become your enemies.

  Even though you accumulate much food and wealth,

  If you go too far, you’ll lose your own life.

  It’s madness to think the Noble Steed is the finest of the lot;

  Even though it’s the best, it will only last for a year or two.

  It’s madness to think the young girl is the best

  When it’s only that she’s had a good upbringing.

  Now here is how this all fits in:

  A few days back,78 this Drugmo from White Ling

  Said she’s the dearest child of Father Kyalo

  And the heart essence of White Ling.

  In the foreign land of the Seven Sandy Passes,

  To the unfamiliar minister from India,

  She told several familiar stories.

  That left me concerned about the way she trusted this stranger;

  Without any regard for her body, she hooked up with him,

  With no concern for her own belongings, she gave him her precious wealth,

  Not minding her mouth, she pledged an oath.

  Seeing that, this pika meditator had some thoughts:

  I thought this maiden girl was brainless,

  Like a horned goat.

  I thought, if she has any power, she is one who would destroy her own father’s house.

  I thought this maiden girl was like a water sieve

  Since she exposed the secrets of her heart to the enemy.

  She is one who will bring slanderous rumors to her own father’s doorstep,

  Giving our best words away and keeping the rubbish for herself.

  I thought that this maiden girl was like a cow,

  And her white smile like milk.

  But it will not benefit her calf, only the stomach of her clevermouthed useless lover.

  I thought this maiden girl was like butter,

  Easily melted away by the sun of happiness.

  But if the harshness of the icy winds prevails then, like butter, she will be hard.

  I thought this maiden girl was like a flea

  Biting the warm bodies of those who have shown great kindness.

  If you stay with her too long, like a nest of fleas, she will be the source of an unsuccessful household.

  I thought this maiden girl was like the springtime weather,

  Cold and warm, up and down with each passing day.

  Oh well, when you think about this, it may be too late.

  An inferior woman and the spirit of the deceased—

  As she sees her [earthly] companions, so the spirit sees the protector deities [in the bardo], as demons;

  Their minds are so attracted to the harmful demons.79

  When I see that, this meditating pika is saddened.

  I think the brethren of Ling have made a mistake concerning their wager for the race.

  Boy Joru, I think you are being led on the wrong path.

  Boy Joru, keep this in your mind.

  So saying, the pika returned to his cave, flinging the Nine-Knotted scarf in front of Joru. Drugmo was so utterly ashamed that she was at a loss as to what to even do. Joru said, “Wow, Drugmo! I had no idea you would have done all of this! Everything the pika just said is the whole truth, and nothing but the truth! Now I must certainly tell all of this to the brethren of White Ling.”

  As he prepared to depart he stuffed the scarf into his chuba and, although she couldn’t utter a reply, Drugmo [followed Joru back] to the place where she had met Beri Nyima Gyaltsen. There the foothills abounded with flowers in full bloom, and Joru stopped for a moment to listen to the melodious droning of the bumblebees. Then Joru said, “Well, this is the very place where Beri Nyima Gyaltsen and you, Drugmo, plighted your troth; right here you gave him your golden ring. You told me you would give me the other treasures, even if you had to steal them, but just look, on your way to call for me you have gotten yourself into this much of a mess. It is imperative that the principals of White Ling, Chipön, Gyatsha, and Kyalo, be told of this. Not to do so would be even more dangerous. Is this gold ring really yours?”

  Drugmo bowed down to him, saying, “Sweet Jo, precious one, may your wisdom always be exalted. Listen, for here is what I have to say,” and she sang this song in the melody of Six Modulations in Nine Pitches:

  It’s Ala Ala Ala.

  Thala leads the melody of the song.

  If you don’t recognize this place,

  It is Jachen Yölmo,

  The place where Joru produced a magical manifestation.

  If you don’t recognize me,

  I am the dear child, descendant of Father Kyalo,

  And the main wager of White Ling, known as Sengcham.

  Well then, divine child Joru,

  Listen, for I have something to tell you.

  Those who are confused by ignorance are called sentient beings;

  Knowing without confusion is called Buddha.

  In the dharmatā of awareness and nonawareness

  Liberation and confusion are just mere words.

  Not understanding that until now, I was confused.

  Joru of unimpeded magical powers,

  Thinking you were a demon child was Drugmo’s mistake.

  Those travelers to the uninhabited regions of Ma,

  Without recognizing them as the buddha activity of Joru,

  In joy and sorrow Drugmo was confused.

  The rainbow of Joru’s magical transformations,

  By solidifying those, Drugmo was confused.

  In the narrow passage of Jachen Yölmo,

  The black demon man with pennants on his helmet

  And, at the Seven Sandy Passes of Ma,

  The man in white sporting a topknot,

  Not knowing that these were your magical emanations, Joru,

  Through attachment and aversion, Drugmo was confused.

  This untrustworthy stallion of my mind

  Was brought under control by the magical bridle

  Of Gogmo’s divine child Joru.

  Wherever these aggregates of the contaminated illusory body

  Are tossed hinges upon the chariot of karma.

  These sounds and words are like a sweet sounding sitar;

  Whether good or bad turns on the weight of the fingers and concepts.

  This consciousness is like a drunken elephant;

  Lead it where you will with your hook of compassion.

/>   First of all, I confess all my past evil deeds,

  And vow from this day onward not to commit them again.

  On this day Drugmo makes a promise to you.

  As the horse race of White Ling takes place,

  First, may Joru who is like red fire,

  Be fanned by the pleasant wind of this prayer;

  Second, may Wild Kyang who runs on the path of the birds

  Be urged on by the whip which cuts through the highest reaches of space;

  Third, may this horse that has yet to develop the racing gait

  Be shown the legacy that reveals the great secret.80

  These three I, Sengcham, will secure for you.

  First, may your omniscient mind be free from obscuration,

  Second, may your loving-kindness not abandon this girl,

  Third, through your power may you seize the golden throne.

  Joru, you must never forget this.

  It is difficult for the wealth of Kyalo to be the causal condition;

  Through the convergence of karma and authentic presence, it is made easy.

  It is difficult to be the bridegroom of the maiden Sengcham;

  If this is mandated by the imperial gods above, it is made easier.

  It is difficult to be the leader of the brethren of Ling;

  If the skill and signs of accomplishment unite, it is made easier.

  If you understand this, it’s a supreme ornament to the ears.

  If not, there is no way to explain it.

  Thus she sang, and then Joru said, “Well now, whether or not I really understood what you meant by your remarks, here is the real story,” and he sang the song in the melody of A Gently Flowing River.

  It is Ala Ala Ala.

  Thala is the melody of the song.

  I supplicate the Three Jewels of Refuge

  To dwell inseparably on the crown of my head.

  I am called Gogmo’s Joru,

  And I have a few things to explain to you:

  The royal parasol in the imperial path of the gods

  Comes to adorn the four continents without invitation,

  Bringing happiness to all beings,

  But the owl, ghost bird of the night, sees only in the darkness.

  The warmth and moisture of summertime

  Come to adorn the earth without invitation,

  And the meadows and flowers unite as companions,

  But the snow mountains’ mandate is to become a glacier of deadly frozen ice.

  I, Gogmo’s child Joru,

  Came to adorn Lower Ma without being invited.

  Although I was delighted to hook up with Sengcham as my companion,

  These stories have filled my hopeful guts with pain.

  Joru’s mind is empty of magical emanation;

  Drugmo’s mind is empty of confusion.

  Within this magical display of the appearance of empty reality,

  Confusion and emanation are merely dharma jargon.

  Furthermore, these are mere designations of a mind with no reference point.

  When you see the mind’s nature as without self,

  Confusion vanishes like a rainbow in the sky;

  At that time emanation brings neither benefit nor harm.

  Joru has no choice but to emanate.

  If emanation does not occur to benefit beings,

  Realization alone will not liberate another’s mind.

  The appearance of Joru is emanation.

  The interdependency of phenomenal existence

  Is merely the magical emanation of cause and condition.

  It’s possible to have fire between stone and metal,

  But without tinder there’s nothing to do.

  It’s possible to have crops between the soil and moisture,

  But if heat and moisture don’t unite, nothing will grow.

  This wager among the brethren,

  If the horse is not free to run its fastest, there is nothing to attain.

  For the kyang colt that runs on the swift path of the birds,

  A whip guarantees that he’s not a lazy runner;

  There’s no way I can be without that.

  In order to fulfill the wishes of the rider,

  The prayers and auspicious connections must not be disturbed.

  For the racehorse not to get stuck in the narrow passageway,

  You ought to open the great secret of this steed.

  This is not an order, just a proper request;

  This proper request must accomplish the goal.

  These things won’t obtain victory in the race;

  But these are the things we will need to get the prize.

  If there is any obstruction, then there cannot be omniscience;

  If there is any partiality, then there cannot be love;

  If there is any interruption, then there cannot be power.

  If this animal doesn’t take the swift path,

  Then the so-called purpose of others is just empty speech.

  If you have understood this, it is sweet to your ears.

  If not, there is no way to explain it.

  When he said this, Drugmo’s previous karmic tendencies suddenly awakened. She was able to sever all doubt and wrong view that she had toward Joru, and she found the certainty of faith and devotion. She decided that except for Joru there could be no other leader of White Ling, bridegroom of Drugmo, and lord of the wealth of Kyalo. She promised to do whatever he said, and both of them departed. She safely delivered Joru to the Lesser Lineage. So it was said that the messenger Drugmo fulfilled her mission; the Great Being who arrived will accomplish all goals, and the minds of the residing fathers and uncles were satisfied.

  Drugmo said to Joru, “When it’s time for the horse race, come to the tents of Kyalo. There will be a saddle for the horse, the rider’s horsewhip, and positive aspirations for both man and horse.” Having said this, she returned to her own father Kyalo’s home. The Lesser Lineage sent someone to bring Gogmo, as she and Wild Kyang were both invited. Joru and Gogmo, mother and son, once again joined the ranks of the Lesser Lineage and resided there in equal status with the other brethren. Nonetheless:

  Whether wealth is great or small depends on the fruit of previous generosity.

  Then, when all the brethren asked Joru where he got Wild Kyang and who he belonged to, he told some of them that he had bought the horse, and others that he had found it, and still others that it was the colt of a wild mare called Drolo Thödkya [Gray Skull], and so on, sitting there giving nothing but inconsistent answers.

  One day Joru, riding his white willow staff Jangkar Berka and leading Wild Kyang, his nine-edged prosperity bag thrust inside his chuba’s breast, arrived at Tag-rong’s door. “Uncle, Uncle! It’s Joru at your door. Please, throw me a party and give vittles for my horse!” he called out again and again. Trothung saw not only Joru but, accompanying him, a supreme steed rarely found in this world. Bewildered, he ran down to the door. “Well, Nephew, I am so delighted that you have come here today! You weren’t here yesterday when we had the banquet for the horse race of Ling, but I will certainly throw another party for you now! Where did you get this horse? Whose is it?”81 Joru replied, “This little colt of mine was born to Drolo-ma [Silken], the mare that belongs to my mother and me. It’s just that he’s not able to be mounted because he’s never been broken. For eight years he’s been running free in the mountains. Now, if he’s to run in the staged horse race of White Ling, tell me what should be done, so he’ll be able to be ridden.”

  Trothung said, “O Joru, this horse is of no use to you. If you are going to run in the race then you have to be able to take charge of the government of Ling.82 One’s horse must be capable of competing with the fastest horses of all, the horse needs to have the best constitution, and you need to be in complete control. This horse has none of these qualities. Nevertheless, in a herd of colorful horses, this one would stand out as the most beautiful, so how about if uncle and nephew make a trade.
Uncle will trade you Ragkar Yumog [Roan Turquoise Mane], including whatever else you say you need.”

  Joru replied, “That would be okay. Ya, Uncle, we can trade horses. But first you said you would give a party for everybody, from the eldest fathers and uncles of White Ling to the youngest infant. It was unfortunate that my mother and I missed the banquet. Now, if you don’t give us a proper party, I won’t join the ranks of the fathers and uncles of Ling. I really mean it—I won’t line up my helmet pennants with the others for the race. Give me, Joru, what I need to eat. Give me, Joru, something to eat, and as much as I can carry for my mother, and then we’ll both be happy to trade horses. Who wins the wager is the result of previous karma. The horse race is the common wealth of the brethren. I could ride the horse, and you could take care of it; surely that would gratify us both. This particular horse is very precious to me, but if I don’t sell it there will be no trained horse for me to ride. If I do sell it, I’ll be brokenhearted. My mother and I need provisions to last through the summer and the winter, just as much as we need some food right now. Not only that, in addition to thirteen scarves with perfect fringe, as well as thirteen silver ingots stamped in the shape of a horse hoof, if you give us thirteen pouches of gold, maybe we will trade, but I’m still not sure.”

  Trothung said, “I can give that. I’d much rather give my wealth to my dear nephew than anybody else. So let’s agree upon this, and I’ll throw a party.” Joru said, “Now, Uncle, you give the best party you can throw, and then we’ll bargain about the horse trade. Surely we will be able to strike a deal.”

  Uncle thought, “It seems the prophecy of Hayagrīva was not deceptive. I’ve heard that a horse like this is spoken of in some foreign countries—a race of horses born from an egg of the soaring garuḍa. If it’s not that, it’s still definitely unrivaled. Now, I myself am delighted to have a party and, above all, to give him all the things he has asked for. If I don’t get my hands on this horse, it will be a big mistake.”

  The party began with third summer’s dri milk, Chinese Prosperity Blossom tea, plates of sweet delicacies, portions of marbled meat, nine rounds of sacred yearaged beer, and numerous plates of fruits and sweets abundantly arranged. The things that were added to get the horse—thirteen scarves with perfect fringes, thirteen silver ingots, and thirteen pouches of gold—were placed before Joru. Then Trothung said, “Dear nephew, may your wishes be fulfilled. I, your uncle, haven’t seen you in so long. In one lifetime there is much happiness and sorrow. It’s just like this,” and he sang a song in the melody of Hara Hurthung: