Milarepa: Lord of Yogis(1028/1040 -1111/1123)

Marpa’s chief disciple, Milarepa, remains Tibet’s most widely venerated spiritual master, and is universally acknowledged to this day as Tibet’s supreme yogi. His meditative insights and total commitment to practice are carried forward in the Kagyu lineage today, mingling with the strong stream of Dharma flowing from Marpa himself.

Milarepa was born in the first half of the 11th century, the only son of a wealthy family of land-holding merchants. His arrival was joyfully welcomed, and his father named him “Joy to Hear” or Thöpaga, the name he carried until later in life when he became known as Milarepa. After an early childhood of luxury, the death of his father when he was seven plunged the young Milarepa into a life of terrible deprivation.

In his will, Milarepa’s father had specified that Milarepa’s aunt and uncle should manage his extensive properties until Milarepa came of age, at which point everything down to the last penny should be handed over to Milarepa. Ignoring both justice and public opinion, Milarepa’s aunt and uncle appropriated all the family’s property and goods for themselves, and forced Milarepa, his mother and sister to work as their servants. Tibet during this period lacked a central government, and significant tracts of the country had fallen under the sway of local figures whose power remained largely unchecked within their own territory. This system of highly localized rule left ample room for exploitation by the unscrupulous, and scant hope of protection for the exploited.

When Milarepa came of age, his mother organized a gathering at which she had her husband’s last will and testament read aloud, and formally requested that it be honored. Her appeal to the aunt and uncle’s conscience and to the local community’s moral support failed miserably. Rather than acknowledge their rights to inheritance, the uncle berated and physically assaulted her and Milarepa and his younger sister. Thoroughly intimidated by the aunt and uncle and their aggressive sons, the public opted not to support her petition. Having exhausted all other means of protecting her children from their powerful aunt and uncle’s abuse, Milarepa’s mother turned to the last resort of the powerless: sorcery, or shamanism. The practice of shamanism, for both benevolent and malevolent ends, had a long history in Tibet, pre-dating the 7th-century advent of Buddhism. Drawing on that tradition, Milarepa left home to apprentice himself to a powerful shaman, never to see his mother again.

Milarepa trained in shamanism with the aim of avenging his family, and was wildly successful in his training. Through his shamanic practice, he managed to bring the roof down on his uncle’s house where his cousin was celebrating his wedding. Thirty-five people were killed, including his cousin and new bride. Yet Milarepa’s mother remained unsatisfied, and asked him to send a hailstorm as well. He did so, completely destroying the community’s annual crop and establishing without a doubt that his shamanic power was more than a match for his relatives’ brute force.

Soon thereafter, however, Milarepa was overwhelmed with regret for the harm he had caused others, and became deeply concerned about its karmic implications for himself. By Milarepa’s time, Buddhism had been slowly seeping into Tibetan culture for four centuries, and an understanding of the basic principles of karma already formed part of the fabric of life in Tibet. Hence Milarepa was aware that his murderous acts would inevitably bring him equally painful consequences, if not in that life then in the following. This clear awareness spurred Milarepa to seek out Dharma teachings that would allow him to move beyond the samsaric cycles driven by karma, and to be of benefit rather than of harm to others. Milarepa was passed from teacher to teacher until he arrived at the home of Marpa Lotsāwa, the immensely kind lama whose skillful guidance would allow Milarepa to fulfill both his own aims and his aim to benefit others.

Even before Milarepa asked to be accepted as his student, Marpa had had indications in his dreams that he was a worthy disciple, yet he initially put Milarepa through a long period of terrible hardship. Because he understood that Milarepa needed to undergo difficult experiences in order to purify the negative karma he had accumulated by his past actions, Marpa was able to lead Milarepa forward to enlightenment despite the heavy karmic burden Milarepa came carrying. With his intense compassion, Marpa was able to prepare a path for Milarepa to follow that would take him to the highest possible human attainment: enlightenment itself.

Although Marpa’s treatment of Milarepa may have appeared harsh in outer appearance, with his penetrative wisdom Marpa perceived clearly that the alternative would be far more painful for his heart disciple. Not only did Marpa have him construct stone towers unassisted, he then had him demolish them and re-erect them again and again, until Milarepa’s back became an excruciating mass of sores. Even then, Marpa placed a cloth on Milarepa’s back and insisted that he persist in his labors. Marpa repeatedly denied his heart disciple the Dharma instructions that Milarepa so urgently sought, and treated him outwardly with disdain and contempt.

The relationship between Marpa and Milarepa may have been immensely fruitful, but it cannot serve as the norm for relationships between most lamas and disciples. Not only was Marpa an exceptional teacher, Milarepa was an exceptional disciple. Marpa himself cautioned Milarepa that the way he had treated Milarepa was not suitable for the majority of students. Throughout eight separate experiences that induced deep despair in him, Milarepa’s trust in Marpa did not waver in the slightest. In the end, when Milarepa had been brought to the brink of suicide, Marpa joyfully declared him his disciple and offered him all the Dharma, tantric initiations and personal instructions that Milarepa needed, even supplying the facilities he needed for his retreats.

Milarepa developed a thorough renunciation for all worldly concerns, born of the combination of his own experience of suffering, his intense regret for his own harmful acts and the perspective offered by the Dharma he received from Marpa. In solitary retreat in mountain caves on snow-covered mountain slopes, clad in a sole piece of cotton cloth, Milarepa persevered in the yogic practices Marpa had taught him. In the many joyful outbursts of song recorded in his collection of Hundred Thousand Sacred Songs, Milarepa expressed his heartfelt understanding that what he was gaining in practicing pure Dharma far outweighed what he was giving up in leaving worldly pursuits behind.

Milarepa persisted in his meditation under unthinkably harsh conditions. On one occasion, he explained his practice to his sister as follows: “Every single person in the world is extremely kind to us, just like our dear Father and Mother were. If I have to go through a little bit of trouble like this to free them from their suffering, it’s nothing. Others might see me as pitiful and disgusting, living like a wild animal in the mountains, but it pleases all the buddhas and bodhisattvas everywhere. There is no happiness greater than this in the world.”