Born a monk
Died a King
such Thunderstorm does not stop
We will be haunting you, along with the dralas!
Jolly Good luck!
It’s gotta be one of my favorite short poems. I’ve had it memorized after a long childhood of seeing it all over the place, in odd nooks and crannies in Trungpa Rinpoche’s Buddhist community. I wrote a play, years ago, titled Thunderstorm, about the childhood of Trungpa. A play I wrote for my friend Markell Kiefer, an amazing director. Anyway, the anniversary of Trungpa Rinpoche’s death is celebrated tomorrow. In that “spirit,” here’s an excerpt from his last Will and Testament. ~ ed.
Birth and death are expressions of life. I have fulfilled my work and conducted my duties as much as the situation allowed, and now I have passed away quite happily. It might cause you grief, sadness; nonetheless you should carry on with what I have created and continue my vision. On the whole, discipline and practice are essential, whether I am there or not. Whether you are young or old, you should learn the lesson of impermanence from my death.