the motivational condition for religious awakening...

as an after-thought to the previous posting -

the other people in a person's life are the motivational condition for an individual's religious awakening. Consequently they are those who have done a great deal for that individual's spiritual welfare. As a matter of course, one comes to understand just how grateful one should be to others. 

         - Great Living, Kemmyo Taira Sato

anger and the nembutsu

Taitetsu Unno in River of Fire, River of Water tells a wonderful story about his grandmother, a devout nembutsu-sha. answering a call one afternoon, the young Taitetsu hears her arguing angrily with a gentleman on the doorstep. after a while the door slams shut and his grandmother returns "huffing and puffing". the man in question, it transpires, goes around conning the elderly out of their money. she is furious and calls him a beast (perhaps the worst insult in Japanese, with its lack of profanity). what happens next though is that namu amida butsu immediately spills from her lips. the story can be found on p.176 for those interested, i only provide a shoddy re-telling as it raises something that's been on my mind for a week or two now.

it's easy to be grateful when happy or even when sad, then quiet naturally the nembutsu finds itself on my lips. but in the heat of the moment, when coming up against a person who annoys or infuriates me (and really just serves as a mirror for my own blind passions) then the mind of thankfulness for the Vow is seemingly nowhere to be found. Amida appears as far away from me as can be.

but really, i guess that's why they're called blind passions because of course - My eyes being hindered by blind passions, I cannot perceive the light that grasps me; Yet the great compassion, without tiring, Illumines me always.

always. and it's that same great compassion that allows me to acknowledge my anger, even if sometimes long after it has subsided, say "sorry" and move forward, entrusting all - happiness, sadness and yes, anger - to Amida.

namu amida butsu

the seventeenth vow

i spent christmas day alone. often when someone hears this i get a response of surprise or sympathy. it's not as bad as it sounds - for the past few years i've spent the run up to the day itself visiting friends and loved ones and having lots of little "mini-xmas" celebrations. then i work through the night during the main holidays.

but in a way, it's not entirely true to say i spent christmas day alone. and this isn't a conclusion i reached through my own deduction.

i always enjoy chanting the nembutsu wasan. i can't say i manage to mirror the rythms or tones when doing this alone as opposed to with the samgha but nonetheless my mind is often made to calm and settle reciting it.

it was during this time on xmas day that quite unexpectedly a surge of joy sprang up in my heart as i continued to chant....namu amida bu, namu amida bu.... my mind turned to reflect on my walking the path of Buddhadharma through all these years and memories old and new of friends and loved ones arose with vivid clarity. a deep sense of gratitude for all that has been done for me and the feeling that all these loved ones were knelt by my side at that moment enveloped me.

so i can not say that i was alone. it just isn't true.

and this in turn has got me to thinking about the  haiku by Bassho. picture the scene - stood at the edge of Japan, where the land runs into the sea. snow falls silently and all is still, as if the whole world is holding its breath. suddenly, the cry of wild duck shatters the silence. the poet is reminded that he is not alone.

it doesn't take a huge leap to see the cry of the wild duck as the call of the nembutsu, reaching out across the darkening sea of our hearts, always letting us know that Amida is there embracing us. reminding us we are not alone.

namu amida butsu

The Human Body - a Cage of Suffering or a Precious Gift?

my first night back at work last week after having spent a precious fortnight visiting family and attending Shokai. i walked through the door to immediately hear the unfortunate news that several colleagues have contracted swine flu. now, i could go into detail about how the swine flu pandemic is a convenient excuse employed by government and media to re-affirm and strengthen the culture of moral panic and fear we live in (don't forget to check under the bed for any terrorists hiding there before you turn out the light) but that's not really the issue i want to reflect on here and further, i think it'd be a tad insensitive of me to do so given this news.

instead, i want to address the view of the human body found in the Buddha's teachings and how this view can be verified in real-life encounters and experiences. let's start by looking at what the Sutta Pitaka has to say. in the Saccavibhanga Sutta, Sariputta gives a detailed step by step analysis of the four noble truths, beginning with the truth of dukkha. for the purpose of the discussion at hand i'd like to focus on two ways in which we experience this suffering which Venerable Sariputta highlights for us -

"And what is aging? Whatever aging, decrepitude, brokenness, graying, wrinkling, decline of life-force, weakening of the faculties of the various beings in this or that group of beings, that is called aging.

[...]

"And what is pain? Whatever is experienced as bodily pain, bodily discomfort, pain or discomfort born of bodily contact, that is called pain."

- MN 141, Saccavibhanga Sutta: An Analysis of the Truths

it doesn't paint a pretty picture does it? but as long as we have these bodies then we are subject to both pain and aging. i think of my work friends lying in bed at home, in pain and discomfort and am reminded of the many times i have been ill - the headaches, the difficulty breathing, the temperatures, the pain in ones' throat, the vomiting, the nausea, the loss of sleep, the feeling of exhaustion.

and again, it may seem premature to consider aging at the (relatively!) young age of 29 but the fact of the matter is, from the minute we come into this life we begin to age. the stark reality of this hit home in a  particularly forceful manner earlier last week as i was asked to help one of the nurses bathe a patient at the hospice i volunteer at. seeing the frailness of this patient's body, the complete dependency on others to help with what we take so often for granted as such a simple act of washing oneself reminded me that it is a real possibility i too may one day rely on others to perform this and other everyday tasks for me, just as i did during my first years of life.

but if all this seems to portray the human body as a purely negative source of constant affliction and suffering then i can't help but feel we're missing an important point somewhere. this point revealed itself to me in a very implicit way whilst reciting the nembutsu yesterday. but before we get to that, let's go back to the sutta and look at what Sakyamuni has to say about Sariputta -

" Like the mother giving birth: That's Sariputta. [...] Sariputta trains [others] to the fruit of stream-entry; [...] Sariputta is capable of declaring, teaching, describing, setting forth, revealing, explaining, and making plain the four noble truths in detail."

now it's not my intention to clarify the intent in such a comparison, i believe the Buddha's meaning is readily apparent here. rather, to focuss on the implications of such an image for the discussion at hand. consider those words - like the mother giving birth. much as our human bodies are a source of suffering they are also the precious gift bestowed to us by our parents. how can something that causes us pain, withers and eventually dies be seen as such? it is simply this - as the nembutsu came from my lips, as i bowed my head to the floor before the Buddha i was made aware that without this body i had been given by my parents i would not be able to perform such acts. i would not be able to hear the Dharma, read the Dharma, discuss the Dharma or praise the Dharma. Sariputta, if not for his parents would not have been able to clarify the Buddha's teachings.

didn't Sakyamuni also tell us that this human birth was rare? that it provided the best opportunity to practice Dharma? don't we owe our very ability to practice to our parents? and this is why, although it may be a cage for our suffering it is also a precious gift, a gift because it is freely given and precious because the Buddhadharma is immeasurable in value, both to oneself and to others around oneself.

don't we have a duty then to look after and care for this gift? shamefully, when i consider all that i've done to this body of mine and all that i've used it for, i see how little i've valued the boundless kindness of my parents. i've put intoxicants into it, junk food into it, denied it the rest it's badly needed. i've used it to utter harsh words or spread gossip or lie.

it is not just that this body is a precious gift but that in order for it to be given, ones' mother must put herself through an incredible amount of physical pain that even ends sometimes in, well let's be honest about it - tragedy. no, in fact let's be frank about it - death. lest we forget, Sakyamuni's own mother Maya laid down her life in giving birth to him.

clearly then, this is not a gift to be taken lightly, handled roughly and abused and mistreated at ones' own selfish leisure. how can we ever begin to repay this debt, if indeed we can at all? well, i believe the answer is there in that last quote - simply put, to continue to practice Buddhadharma. in the case of Sariputta it was to teach and lead fellow aspirants to stream-entry. but one may well, as a lay-person, feel a twinge of apprehension at such a lofty goal (i mean, come on Jon! we're talking about Sariputta here!). but practice is not limited exclusively to this worthy objective. one day our parents will grow old, their bodies become increasingly frail and their dependency on their children to return the love and compassion they have given them throughout their lives by helping them bathe, walk, provide clothing and food increase. such love and compassion returned is this practice. and although we can never hope to fully repay what they have done for us during our lives, this care is our means of acknowledging and respecting it.

ofcourse, i've only touched briefly and limitedly on the issue and certainly the practice of Buddhadharma is much more than just caring for one's parents. and this care and love we return to them should not be put off or postponed until their old age, rather it is a life long practice. similarly, we are not indebted exclusively, and neither should our compassion be limited to, them. it is much, much greater than that. and, with this point in mind i would like to close with a quote from the Tannisho which really illustrates how far this debt extends and provides much more to consider -

"As for me, Shinran, I have never said the nembutsu even once for the repose of my departed father and mother. For all sentient beings, without exception, have been our parents and brothers and sisters in the course of countless lives in the many states of existence. On attaining Buddhahood after this present life, we can save every one of them.

Were saying the nembutsu indeed a good act in which I strove through my own powers, then I might direct the merit thus gained towards saving my father and mother. But this is not the case.

If, however, simply abandoning self-power, we quickly attain enlightenment in the Pure Land, we will be able to save, by means of transcendent powers, first those with whom we have close karmic relations, whatever karmic suffering they may have sunk to in the six realms through the four modes of birth."

- Tannisho Ch. 5

namu amida butsu