A Parable: Birth and Death

Once the Chinese Emperor Mu Chung of the Tang dynasty, impressed by the level of cultivation of National Master Wu Yeh invited him to come for an audience. To just about any subject, this would have been an overwhelming honor. However, the master kept refusing because he did not want to be disturbed by worldly matters.

So the emperor told his envoy, “If you cannot persuade Master Wu Yeh to come, you will have to forfeit your life.” The envoy sought out the master and tearfully asked for his cooperation. The monk, unable to refuse the request at this point, said, “All right, I will go.”

So he gathered the whole assembly and asked his followers, “Who would like to join me for an audience with the emperor?”

When a disciple raised his hand, the master asked, “How many miles can you travel in one day?” The disciple answered, “Fifty.” The monk said, “That’s not good enough.”

A second disciple was asked the same question and said, “Sixty-five,” to which the monk replied again, “That’s not good enough.”

A third disciple said, “Seventy miles,” and for the third time, the monk said, “That’s not good enough.”

Then a young monk raised his hand and said, “I will go wherever you go, Master.”

So the Master did his ablutions, then went back and sat on his elevated seat, entered Samadhi and expired on the spot, in a seated position.

The young monk, seeing that, said, “Oh, Master, you have gone. Let me go too.” And he expired standing.

This anecdote illustrates that truly accomplished monks are free of mundane preoccupations – beyond the ken of ordinary people, beyond Birth and Death.

~ Seeker’s Glossary of Buddhism, Sutra Translation Committee, Second edition, pg. 552

I Object to Violence

Mahatma Gandhi said "I object to violence because when it appears to do good, the good is only temporary. The evil it does is permanent."

Violence never solves the problem, regardless of how justified it seems to be at the time.

Imagine what the world would be like if the five most prosperous countries had been spending what they have on their military on building schools and hospitals instead.  

Imagine what your city or town would be like if most of your tax dollars went to educating the young and helping the ill.

Imagine what your family would be like if you never again raised your voice in anger but spoke and acted out of love and respect. 

Imagine how you would feel if you never again lost your temper. 

"I object to violence
because when it appears to do good,
the good is only temporary.
The evil it does is permanent."

The thought of "No Thought"

Ignorance is still a form of thought. You still have the thought of “no thought” even though you do not have wandering thoughts. “Free of thoughts” means “no wandering thoughts.” In Mahayana Buddhism, it is referred to as “having correct thought.” But if you still have the discrimination of “correct thought” and are still attached to “correct thought,” then the “correct thought” becomes a wandering thought. This is not easy to understand.

What exactly is no wandering thoughts? What is correct thought? Having no wandering thoughts is being free of all wandering thoughts, all discriminations, and all attachments. Correct thought is a clear and correct understanding of all principles and matters, causes and results, and the noumenon of anything and its phenomenal expressions. Therefore, in correct thought, there is wisdom, and there are virtues and capabilities, and auspicious marks. In correct thought, there are no wandering thoughts, discriminations, and attachments.

~ Based on Ven. Master Chin Kung's 2003 lecture series on the Amitabha Sutra

Five Ways for the Bereaved to Survive the Holidays

The holidays—be they centered around Christmas, Hanukkah, or Kwanzaa—can be times of sadness, especially for those who have recently lost a loved one.

Last December, the first one after my mother died, I went to New York City for a few weeks at the thoughtful invitation of my cousin Deborah and her husband Bart. For the first time, I celebrated Hanukkah. My parents had always celebrated Christmas, not the religious aspects, but a time of family gatherings, children making presents for parents, building snowmen, and baking pies—from scratch. Mom baked great pies and cakes.

My first Hanukkah focused on the same things—family gatherings, outings to museums (snow would not fall for another month) and many evenings spent reading where the only sound was of pages turning and paper rustling. Deborah prepared wonderful meals for the three of us and for my other cousin, Milton, her children, and some close friends.

So my first “holidays” were spent in a new way for me. Or rather the format and the place was new. The love and closeness of family were the same, even though the faces were different.

This year, I will spend the holidays in Chicago and Toronto, lecturing at retreats and spending time with a different—and larger—family.

This is the way I have found to face the holidays after the death of my mother. There are other ways that may be more helpful for you. The December edition of The Center for Hospice and Palliative Care newsletter gives some good suggestions for the bereaved:

1. Remember that the anticipation of the holidays without your loved one may be more difficult than the actual holidays themselves.
2. Acknowledge that as a grieving person, you are not functioning at full capacity.
3. Realize that you can redefine your expectations and determine what is most meaningful and what you can comfortably handle.
4. Give yourself permission to let go of some traditions for this holiday season. Don’t be afraid to make changes.
5. Don’t be afraid to enjoy the good things.

Those we loved wanted us to be happy. It will take time, but gradually, the regrets and pain will ease, and we will be happy again.

Beyond the Horizon

 

There is a saying in Buddhism that in the first year of practice, the Buddha is right before one's eyes. In the second year, he is in the distance. In the third year, he has disappeared over the horizon.

Upon beginning one's practice, it is fresh and exhilarating. People are enthusiastic about having found a system of learning and practice that makes so much sense. Family members begin to notice a change as the new practitioner becomes more patient and easy-going, and less irritable. 

In the second year, as the newness begins to wear off, even as one becomes more established in learning and practice, and more confident in the teachings, one begins to relax. All too often that relaxing is accompanied by distractions: other ways to meditate, other forms of learning, or often just other interests. The Buddha no longer feels close.

In the third year, for myriad reasons, the Buddha cannot even be seen on the horizon. The person who was so enthusiastic in the first year now rarely practices and has lost the feeling of contentment and accomplishment.   

In reality, the Buddha is always present. It is up to us whether we remain in his presence or turn away.