January 20, 2011.
One of the good things that I could do in this month, for which I can be proud of, is reading The Life of Milarepa translated by Lobsang P. Lhalungpa borrowed from Phuntsok Lambu. Really found inspiring and tear shedding but the gained righteous affect, I wish, can be carried on through sustaining goodness despite lacking a sued nicety of determination whatsoever for shaping this hardening entity. At such time of wading through oddities of personal life I did find going through it was timely in spite of getting stuck in its lengthy introduction for days as of my so limited learning in Tibetan Esoteric Buddhism.
Yes, it puts this integrity to test. I happened to learn hypocrisy and indolence suck it too badly tarnishing the root potential that is bragged as possessed by each being. Yes, it challenges us as follows: (The factual insight of the passage in the introduction heralds the same episode to be proven later at the end of the book. For me, it remains germane for my being bit familiar with the same cases of how such arrogance presumes tastelessly, how such filthy vibe bypasses the true magnanimous precedence shown by the great sage, the shaman of Tibet.)
"Milarepa's critical remarks on mere scholarship and book-learning stem not so much from prejudice against the study of ideas as from insight into the way the sacred pursuit of study may be profaned to satisfy egoistic desires and fulfil selfish aims."
