Appearances Can be Deceiving

No one knows what sort of man Han-shan was. There are old people who knew him: they say he was a poor man, a crazy character. He lived alone seventy Li (23 miles) west of the T'ang-hsing district of T'ien-t'ai at a place called Cold Mountain. He often went down to the Kuo-ch'ing Temple. At the temple lived Shih'te, who ran the dining hall. He sometimes saved leftovers for Han-shan, hiding them in a bamboo tube. Han-shan would come and carry it away; walking the long veranda, calling and shouting happily, talking and laughing to himself. Once the monks followed him, caught him, and made fun of him. He stopped, clapped his hands, and laughed greatly - Ha Ha! - for a spell, then left.

He looked like a tramp. His body and face were old and beat. Yet in every word he breathed was a meaning in line with the subtle principles of things, if only you thought of it deeply. Everything he said had a feeling of Tao in it, profound and arcane secrets. His hat was made of birch bark, his clothes were ragged and worn out, and his shoes were wood. Thus men who have made it hide their tracks: unifying categories and interpenetrating things. On that long veranda calling and singing, in his words of reply Ha Ha! - the three worlds revolve. Sometimes at the villages and farms he laughed and sang with cowherds. Sometimes intractable, sometimes agreeable, his nature was happy of itself. But how could a person without wisdom recognize him?

I once received a position as a petty official at Tan-ch'iu. The day I was to depart, I had a bad headache. I called a doctor, but he couldn't cure me and it turned worse. Then I met a Buddhist Master named Feng-kan, who said he came from the Kuo-ch'ing Temple of T'ien-t'ai especially to visit me. I asked him to rescue me from my illness. He smiled and said, "The four realms are within the body; sickness comes from illusion. If you want to do away with it, you need pure water." Someone brought water to the Master, who spat it on me. In a moment the disease was rooted out.

He then said, "There are miasmas in T'ai prefecture, when you get there take care of yourself." I asked him, "Are there any wise men in your area I could look on as Master?" He replied, "When you see him you don't recognize him, when you recognize him you don't see him. If you want to see him, you can't rely on appearances. Then you can see him. Han-shan is a Manjusri (one who has attained enlightenment and, in a future incarnation, will become Buddha) hiding at Kuo-sh'ing. Shih-te is a Samantabbhadra (Bodhisattva of love). They look like poor fellows and act like madmen. Sometimes they go and sometimes they come. They work in the kitchen of the Kuo-ch'ing dining hall, tending the fire." When he was done talking he left.

I proceeded on my journey to my job at T'ai-chou, not forgetting this affair. I arrived three days later, immediately went to a temple, and questioned an old monk. It seemed the Master had been truthful, so I gave orders to see if T'ang-hsing really contained a Han-shan and Shih-te. The District Magistrate reported to me: "In this district, seventy li west, is a mountain. People used to see a poor man heading from the cliffs to stay awhile at Kuo-ch'ing. At the temple dining hall is a similar man named Shih-te."

I made a bow, and went to Kuo-ch'ing. I asked some people around the temple, "There used to be a Master named Feng-kan here, Where is his place? And where can Han-shan and Shih-te be seen?" A monk named T'ao-ch'iao spoke up: "Feng-kan the Master lived in back of the library. Nowadays nobody lives there; a tiger often comes and roars. Han-shan and Shih-te are in the kitchen."

The monk led me to Feng-kan's yard. Then he opened the gate: all we saw was tiger tracks. I asked the monks Tao-ch'iao and Pao-te, "When Feng-kan was here, what was his job?" The monks said, “He pounded and hulled rice. At night he sang songs to amuse himself.” Then we went to the kitchen, before the stoves. Two men were facing the fire, laughing loudly. I made a bow. The two shouted Ho! at me. They struck their hands together -Ha Ha! - great laughter. They shouted.

Then they said, "Feng-kan - loose-tongued, loose-tongued. You don't recognize Amitabha, (the Bodhisattva of mercy) why be courteous to us?" The monks gathered round, surprise going through them. ""Why has a big official bowed to a pair of clowns?" The two men grabbed hands and ran out of the temple. I cried, "Catch them" - but they quickly ran away. Han-shan returned to Cold Mountain. I asked the monks, "Would those two men be willing to settle down at this temple?" I ordered them to find a house, and to ask Han-shan and Shih-te to return and live at the temple.

I returned to my district and had two sets of clean clothes made, got some incense and such, and sent it to the temple - but the two men didn't return. So I had it carried up to Cold Mountain. The packer saw Han-shan, who called in a loud voice, "Thief! Thief!" and retreated into a mountain cave. He shouted, "I tell you man, strive hard" - entered the cave and was gone. The cave closed of itself and they weren't able to follow. Shih-te's tracks disappeared completely.

~ Lu Ch'iu-yin, Governor of T'ai Prefecture, trans. Gary Snyder

Why Does it Happen?

In one of the Buddhist texts it is recorded that someone asked Buddha:

Why are some women ugly but rich?

Why are some women beautiful but poor?

Why are some people poor but with good health and a long life?

Why are some rich yet ill and short-lived?

The Buddha's answers were:

One who is ugly but rich was short-tempered in past lives, easily irritated and angered, but was also very generous and gave offerings to the Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha and made contributions to many sentient beings.

One who is beautiful but poor was, in past lives, very kind, always smiling and soft spoken, but was stingy and reluctant to make offerings or help other people.

The person who is poor but in good health and enjoying a long life was, in his or her past lives, very stingy or reluctant to make donations, but was kind to all sentient beings, did not harm or kill others, and also saved many sentient beings’ lives.

The person who is rich but often ill, or who is short-lived, was, in his or her past lives, very generous in helping others but loved hunting and killing and caused sentient beings to feel worried, insecure, and frightened.

The above examples give us some idea of why people on earth, although all human beings, vary so much in appearance, character, lifespan, health, mental ability and fate. It is even more interesting to note how much the circumstances in which a person is born can influence his or her destiny. Which race, which nation, which skin color, which era, all these factors make a great difference.

~ C.T. Shen 

Picking Olives

 

No, that's not allegorical, it's literally what we did today.

Here in Nanango, we're in early fall. Imagine it as a late summer day in Tuscany. Lots of sunlight and dry, clear air. In the grove on the side of gently rolling hill, there are 400 olive trees and thousands of beautiful olives. (Want to come yet? ;-))

Celine and I were picking the kalamatas (a favorite of mine), and Charles and Dave were up the hill picking a smaller but equally dark variety of olives. We had gotten a later start in the morning than planned because the olive trees owner's son, daughter-in-law, and grandson had been visiting and the latter had apparently been playing wth the phone. (Grandparents and parents will understand what this means, others can use their imaginations.)

When Celine couldn't get through on the phone, we all decided to get in the car and drive to Olive Oasis to see if Malcolm and Beverly were around. They were, and Mal joined us in the picking (after hanging up the phone).

If you’re wondering about a Buddhist nun picking olives; no, it’s not in the job description. But according with conditions and not wasting food are, so I happily joined in. The others were going and the olives needed to be picked. Celine had volunteered to help a friend harvest his crop and Mal had offered to split the profits from the sale of the olives at the monthly market this weekend. So our share would go the Amitabha Buddhist Retreat Centre.

First lesson—friendship. Celine and Charles wanted to help a neighbor who was recovering from an operation. Dave, an old friend of theirs, was visiting the centre to help all of us.

Second lesson—generosity. Not wanting to take advantage, Mal and Beverly offered to share the income from the sale of the olives.

Third lesson—patience! I picked a lot of blueberries when I was growing up and olives are, fortunately, larger than blueberries, but there were a LOT of olives and, hey, I’m not a kid anymore. (Unless you compare me to Charles who’s ninety-three. Fourth lesson—relativity in accordance with perception.) Some olives were over ripe and others still green. Some were high on the trees and others low. Some in the shade and many others in the bright sun.

The olives needed to be picked one at a time, although some were in a group of three or four. And some very cooperatively just fell off the branches and landed in my bucket. (Yes, buckets again…must be destiny or something…)

So today was a good day, a day filled with friendship, generosity, and patience.  

A Heart's Burden

Question: I work in the field.  Most often in bad areas where dogs are abandoned, hurting and abused.  Today I found one who's pelvis had been broken and her little leg.  There is no telling how long she'd been this way, how many people had passed her by.  I had to put her to sleep which has hurt me so much all day.

Please help me to understand why people do this.....why they would let this poor little dog suffer like this, living on the street unable to walk.  I carry each of these homeless and neglected animals with me and they stay in my head burdening my heart and mind with horrible sorrow.  I cannot let them go.

Response:  It is terrible how people can be cruel to animals or simply uncaring when they suffer. What you did for that poor dog was truly compassionate, wanting to alleviate the suffering of others, even though it caused your own suffering.

You asked how this can happen. Obviously there are people whose thinking is so disturbed that they need to hurt others. Then there are those who, unlike you, do not have the courage to become involved. Or perhaps who feel that they do not have the time. I imagine there are many different reasons, but they come down to people being in too much pain themselves to be able to take on the suffering of others. And so they inflict pain or block it out.

You do not block the animals suffering and thus you take on their suffering. But once you have helped, you need to let go or it will haunt you and, as you said, stay with you. May I suggest trying a small ceremony. Light a candle or incense and say something meaningful as a wish for the animals happiness. A Pure Land Buddhist, for example, could chant "Amituofo."

Then speak to the animal, saying it is time to move on to the next birth and that your wishes are for it to have a better next life. Than, knowing that you have helped the animal physically and spiritually, you may be better able to "let go."

The True Cost of Technology

It is estimated that in the twentieth century 160-180 million human beings were killed. The deaths occurred largely through warfare, imprisonment, and human-manufactured starvation.

At the beginning of that century, the killing was done largely on a one-to-one basis; by soldiers fighting on the ground in World War I, for example. But with the passage of time, technology made it possible for people to distance themselves from the physical act of killing. Sailors on board one ship could torpedo another ship—they no longer had to look the other person in the face. The killing became anonymous, and with anonymity the killing became easier.

As technology continued to advance, increasingly effective weapons were devised along with the planes and missiles to deliver their deadly cargo.

Looking forward to our future in the twenty first century, we see technology continuing to develop. But with that technology, humanity is able to further distance itself from the results of its actions. Men sit safely in command centers far from the fighting and decide to send missiles against a far-removed and faceless enemy.

Lest we shake our heads in wonder at how people can do this, we need to examine our own use of technology. Our increased dependence on electronic gadgetry for work and home is not without serious results.

Consider our computers. Odds are good that we’re the single user of our computer, which took around 1.8 tons of chemicals, fossil fuels, and water to produce. If we use a desktop, it will produce 0.1 tons of CO₂ per year. (If it’s a laptop it will use less energy to run.) Used an average of three years, it will then be put in the trash, still functioning but no longer wanted, and be buried in the local landfill. Others are sent overseas, often to Africa or China to be disassembled and buried.

That’s a lot of chemicals, energy, and water use. And it’s for just one computer.

We love our technology, but we need to realize that there’s a cost—to us, our children and their children, and to our planet. Considering the consequences, we need to start questioning whether the price is too high.