Monday, July 14, 2008
A Reflection on the Decline of Buddhism in Japan
It is bothersome to me that neither this article nor many of the comments following it on Digg pay any tribute to what Buddhism is actually about.
"With all the pain and destruction religions have wrought, we should not mourn their demise," one commenter said. Yes, that is absolutely right. But Buddhism is about transcending the pain and destruction involved in worldly living. The Dalai Lama has written that in order to break the cycle of death and rebirth and everything in between, one must spiritually reflect and dismiss the 10 nonvirtues.
The I Ching also says that in everything beautiful there is ugliness, and the Dalai Lama expanded on this in his books by taking many examples of things that can initially bring pleasure, and showing that whether overindulging or pursuing sensory fulfillment with the wrong motivation, the pleasure is replaced, many times in the short term, by a greater pain or emptiness.
This article is most disturbing to me because I want to believe that something like Buddhism could survive, as its spiritual teachings can be incorporated into a secular life, one which can include money and work, but still help make things more meaningful. For the priests to say they are losing hope, they are denying their faith and perpetuating negative energy in this challenging moment when they need to remain positive the most.
It is bothersome to me that neither this article nor many of the comments following it on Digg pay any tribute to what Buddhism is actually about.
"With all the pain and destruction religions have wrought, we should not mourn their demise," one commenter said. Yes, that is absolutely right. But Buddhism is about transcending the pain and destruction involved in worldly living. The Dalai Lama has written that in order to break the cycle of death and rebirth and everything in between, one must spiritually reflect and dismiss the 10 nonvirtues.
The I Ching also says that in everything beautiful there is ugliness, and the Dalai Lama expanded on this in his books by taking many examples of things that can initially bring pleasure, and showing that whether overindulging or pursuing sensory fulfillment with the wrong motivation, the pleasure is replaced, many times in the short term, by a greater pain or emptiness.
This article is most disturbing to me because I want to believe that something like Buddhism could survive, as its spiritual teachings can be incorporated into a secular life, one which can include money and work, but still help make things more meaningful. For the priests to say they are losing hope, they are denying their faith and perpetuating negative energy in this challenging moment when they need to remain positive the most.
Labels: Buddhism, Dalai Lama, Spirituality
Monday, February 19, 2007
Delighting in the freedom from the tyranny of events
As simple and complicated as this feels, it is going to be hard to articulate, but we'll see ...
Per esempio ...
Yesterday, my last table of the day ... It had been very busy, beginning around 9 a.m., and it finally died down, nearing two o'clock. I was sort of rejoicing in that in itself, admiring my messy, yet empty section, as I half-sat in a chair refilling sugar packets, counting five or six Splendas, Equals, Sweet 'n' Lows, putting them together, yellow, then blue, then pink, or maybe pink then yellow, then blue, then watching the three line up with the rest of the regular sugars, and thinking about that in some way while thinking of other things, and smiling over a busy yet calm, smooth, uneventful day ... uneventful in that it was smooth, and nice, and easy to smile, and so easy to give people what they wanted for some reason ... didn't really feel like working anymore, when I see a man sitting at my table from the corner of my eye.
"Would you like a menu, sir?" I asked, since he seemed to have seated himself. It was hard to tell if he was waiting on someone or if he was about to make a phone call, or maybe he wanted something to go.
Turns out, he wanted to stay. He had coffee and a large glass of water, no cream or sugar, and he ordered a French Slam.
Not the Mega French slam, which has three slices of Texas Toast with two eggs, hash browns, two bacon, and two sausage, which is cheaper. Just a French Slam: two pieces of french toast with two eggs, two bacon, and two sausage.
He ate quietly, thanked me politely and sincerely each time I came by. He read a newspaper, and when he finished, he stacked his clean plates up right in front of him.
I picked up the plates and thanked him, and smiled and told him to have a wonderful day, and just as I started to turn, he got up, and in getting up, he somehow knocked over the dessert table tent, which in turn knocked a stowaway full syrup cup, which in reaction flew off the table, and toward me.
It missed, but it did manage to create a sprawling thin line marking its path of flight like a sticky reminder of a shadow, all down the carpet reaching four or five feet across.
He apologized profusely. He seemed so embarrassed.
I assured him that it was not in the slightest a big deal at all, that it would only take a second to clean up, and not to worry about it at all, and reminded him to have a wonderful day.
I was sincere. In fact, the little incident reminded me of something, that everything happens at the appointed time, even little "unhappy accidents" that might cause breaks in the circle of thoughts or routine long enough to remind you of the present moment. To bring you right back, just as the broken plate that ricocheted into my hand that one time, cutting deeply, causing me pain, and scarring my hand did a couple of months ago.
The universe can communicate with you. It's language of communication is sometimes referred to as "the tyranny of events." The tyranny part is the part where they can be dangerously defined to mean more than they do, or inconvenient in that they remind you that you are not the only person around, but a small living part upon trillions of interconnected parts.
When I came out of the back with a broom to scrub the syrup, and poured boiling water onto the carpet to loosen it up, the man was at the register, sheepishly telling the story to Kim, the cashier, and I could hear him telling her to make sure she told me again that he was sorry.
Again I reassured the man, waving at him, and smiling, as I poured the water.
"See, I'm halfway done. It's really no big deal. Thank you ..." and I smiled at him again, and told him to enjoy the rest of the weekend.
And then I finished, and resumed cleaning my section again, spot-sweeping under the tables and arranging the chairs and table mats, when Kim came up to me and told me alone that the man left me a five dollar tip on his credit card, and hoped I would accept his apology.
That's exactly what I'm talking about.
Several events happened here that could have produced different outcomes, if my mind had reacted in detrimental ways as the mind can, uninformed of its own power in producing as part of the universe the tyranny of events themselves to communicate the things it might not be able to comprehend based on how obvious they truly are.
It had been a long, busy day.
I really was tired, although happy, and I felt my feet ache a little in a way I'm much of the time so used to that it doesn't matter.
A man seated himself at my table, obviously somehow bypassing the host stand, which is something of a faux pas, even at Denny's.
I had already left work mode, or at least, dealing with customers mode, and could have thought to myself how much I would rather enjoy taking in the small tasks one at a time until there were no more left, not wanting to add anything else to interrupt the clearly cut path laid out in front of me that might have otherwise defined my next couple of hours.
Then, the man, ever so polite and conscious of me, and manners, and his mind, whether he came to specifically do some thinking over breakfast or not, accidently makes a mess.
And it was the best part of my day.
And it feels so good to recognize that. It really does.
As simple and complicated as this feels, it is going to be hard to articulate, but we'll see ...
Per esempio ...
Yesterday, my last table of the day ... It had been very busy, beginning around 9 a.m., and it finally died down, nearing two o'clock. I was sort of rejoicing in that in itself, admiring my messy, yet empty section, as I half-sat in a chair refilling sugar packets, counting five or six Splendas, Equals, Sweet 'n' Lows, putting them together, yellow, then blue, then pink, or maybe pink then yellow, then blue, then watching the three line up with the rest of the regular sugars, and thinking about that in some way while thinking of other things, and smiling over a busy yet calm, smooth, uneventful day ... uneventful in that it was smooth, and nice, and easy to smile, and so easy to give people what they wanted for some reason ... didn't really feel like working anymore, when I see a man sitting at my table from the corner of my eye.
"Would you like a menu, sir?" I asked, since he seemed to have seated himself. It was hard to tell if he was waiting on someone or if he was about to make a phone call, or maybe he wanted something to go.
Turns out, he wanted to stay. He had coffee and a large glass of water, no cream or sugar, and he ordered a French Slam.
Not the Mega French slam, which has three slices of Texas Toast with two eggs, hash browns, two bacon, and two sausage, which is cheaper. Just a French Slam: two pieces of french toast with two eggs, two bacon, and two sausage.
He ate quietly, thanked me politely and sincerely each time I came by. He read a newspaper, and when he finished, he stacked his clean plates up right in front of him.
I picked up the plates and thanked him, and smiled and told him to have a wonderful day, and just as I started to turn, he got up, and in getting up, he somehow knocked over the dessert table tent, which in turn knocked a stowaway full syrup cup, which in reaction flew off the table, and toward me.
It missed, but it did manage to create a sprawling thin line marking its path of flight like a sticky reminder of a shadow, all down the carpet reaching four or five feet across.
He apologized profusely. He seemed so embarrassed.
I assured him that it was not in the slightest a big deal at all, that it would only take a second to clean up, and not to worry about it at all, and reminded him to have a wonderful day.
I was sincere. In fact, the little incident reminded me of something, that everything happens at the appointed time, even little "unhappy accidents" that might cause breaks in the circle of thoughts or routine long enough to remind you of the present moment. To bring you right back, just as the broken plate that ricocheted into my hand that one time, cutting deeply, causing me pain, and scarring my hand did a couple of months ago.
The universe can communicate with you. It's language of communication is sometimes referred to as "the tyranny of events." The tyranny part is the part where they can be dangerously defined to mean more than they do, or inconvenient in that they remind you that you are not the only person around, but a small living part upon trillions of interconnected parts.
When I came out of the back with a broom to scrub the syrup, and poured boiling water onto the carpet to loosen it up, the man was at the register, sheepishly telling the story to Kim, the cashier, and I could hear him telling her to make sure she told me again that he was sorry.
Again I reassured the man, waving at him, and smiling, as I poured the water.
"See, I'm halfway done. It's really no big deal. Thank you ..." and I smiled at him again, and told him to enjoy the rest of the weekend.
And then I finished, and resumed cleaning my section again, spot-sweeping under the tables and arranging the chairs and table mats, when Kim came up to me and told me alone that the man left me a five dollar tip on his credit card, and hoped I would accept his apology.
That's exactly what I'm talking about.
Several events happened here that could have produced different outcomes, if my mind had reacted in detrimental ways as the mind can, uninformed of its own power in producing as part of the universe the tyranny of events themselves to communicate the things it might not be able to comprehend based on how obvious they truly are.
It had been a long, busy day.
I really was tired, although happy, and I felt my feet ache a little in a way I'm much of the time so used to that it doesn't matter.
A man seated himself at my table, obviously somehow bypassing the host stand, which is something of a faux pas, even at Denny's.
I had already left work mode, or at least, dealing with customers mode, and could have thought to myself how much I would rather enjoy taking in the small tasks one at a time until there were no more left, not wanting to add anything else to interrupt the clearly cut path laid out in front of me that might have otherwise defined my next couple of hours.
Then, the man, ever so polite and conscious of me, and manners, and his mind, whether he came to specifically do some thinking over breakfast or not, accidently makes a mess.
And it was the best part of my day.
And it feels so good to recognize that. It really does.
Labels: Buddhism, Spirituality, Work
Just because everything comes at the appointed time ...
(2/17/07)
doesn't mean you don't have to create a space for the appointed to inhabit. Fuck yeah.
I just wanted to share that, I guess. Sensory overload. Got much on my mind and I'm too happy and too much enjoying the chaotic sensibility to overanalyze it just yet. But fuck, I've had an amazing day.
Scratch that, I've had an amazing couple of hours, in which i would like to think i spent working to become mindful in order to bring me to some moment where I was ready to go home thinking and feeling happier than I was when I arrived to the place where i decided to sit down and think at all.
And you know what rules? I mean, what rules the fuck out of ruling at all?
It worked, dude. and I'm basking in the victory of good vs. so much less than good, in my own mind.
Rad.
(2/17/07)
doesn't mean you don't have to create a space for the appointed to inhabit. Fuck yeah.
I just wanted to share that, I guess. Sensory overload. Got much on my mind and I'm too happy and too much enjoying the chaotic sensibility to overanalyze it just yet. But fuck, I've had an amazing day.
Scratch that, I've had an amazing couple of hours, in which i would like to think i spent working to become mindful in order to bring me to some moment where I was ready to go home thinking and feeling happier than I was when I arrived to the place where i decided to sit down and think at all.
And you know what rules? I mean, what rules the fuck out of ruling at all?
It worked, dude. and I'm basking in the victory of good vs. so much less than good, in my own mind.
Rad.
Labels: Books, Buddhism, Spirituality
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
I gotta shake it off.
Shake, shake, shake, shake, shake it off ... I just downloaded that ringtone. AND WHAT?!
I just posted this MySpace bulletin that asked you to describe your love life in one word, and I used painstaking, but I'm not sure if that's right. But it seemed to fit the pain in my chest that comes and goes. Man, I did love me some Aaron.
I'm piecing things back together though. I feel really ridiculous for still feeling so ... not me, after some time has passed. But I'm getting there, and since it's almost like I spent a month in someone else's body, or somewhere else, I think I'm coming back OK.
I worked 12 hours yesterday. Five at my morning job and seven at night. I went to school today. Am still here. One more class today. I'm a hoss.
It is starting to wear on me a little. I've been trying to get out more, but I'm really poor. The second job was supposed to be for me. Just something to do. The thing that would get me that so-wanted mountain bike, or maybe a digital camera or an ipod. You know -- toys! Instead, business has plummeted so much at the bar that all my extra hours are barely picking up the slack.
So now it's like I work all the time, and go to school. And I'm poor and lonely, because I don't get out much other than work. My friends have been really great about visiting me on the job though. Fortunately.
My birthday is tomorrow. 25. Maybe that's where the nervous feeling in my stomach is coming from.
Quarter of a century. I tried to deny I've been thinking about it. I haven't really, until this month, when it seemed so hard to make ends meet even though I feel like I'm busting my ass. College is supposed to be that ass-busting buffer, er something. But I'm learning that when I get out I'll have to be careful, because it seems to matter less and less.
My mother busted her ass to get her degree. So did my sister. So did many of my friends. Where are all the great jobs in the universe with benefits and retirement and shit. Up Bush's ass. Ahah. Actually, I didn't mean for this to be any sort of commentary at all. I was just going to say they're up somebody's ass, and Bush came to mind.
Ah.
I do have a beautiful apartment. And I have been reading again. It feels good to read. I hadn't much in awhile. I read quite a bit of the Bible. I even went to church the last couple weekends.
I just wanted to make my mind up again. Because I haven't much experience in churches, and hadn't really read the Bible as an adult, making my own decisions and interpretations.
I still think it's interesting, but ... I don't know.
Did I write about church? I don't think I did. The first time I went again, two weekends ago, it was a really positive experience. I walked in myself, carrying my Bible, sang some hymns, read along to the lesson in the program. There were a lot of nice people there. It was a United Methodist Church, and the pastor was a woman and the congregation was a "reconciliation" one, meaning they accept anyone who wants to come in and worship.
I told some of our friends about it, including Jeff. So last Sunday four of us went together: me, Jeff, Brian, and Claire. They just wanted to check it out. We thought we could go and then talk about it afterwards. But then the service was almost two hours and most everything was littered with interjections about all the different things you could donate to the church that would in turn help the Katrina victims.
I don't know. The big verses that came up in lessons the last two weeks were from Romans. The ones about loving what is good and hating what is not. And seeking goodness, and the new commandment to love one another, that would serve the rest of them as the bottom line. Love a friend enough that you would die for them. Treat your neighbor like your brother basically.
And that's nice, in theory. I guess that's one of the reasons I went. Because what's the worst thing that could happen. Granted, when I told Aaron I was going to church he said he felt like if he walked in one he would burst into flames, but besides that, hah.
It just doesn't seem like anything bad could come of it. Just listening.
On the other hand, it isn't so easy to love right now. I'm still heartbroken, and I just lost my best friend. I'm realizing more and more that neither were the end-all, be-all. They can't be. That would make for a depressing life. But it's just hard.
And I also thought about how many churches there are in the world, and couldn't even fathom how many there were, and how many were gathering to hear what the Bible says is God's message. One that the New Testament claims is love, and feeling like the world outside of church is so loveless.
I almost felt like I was being not Tyler Durtan, but the other guy in fight club. Before he goes completely crazy and goes to all those meetings for like, testicular cancer. And he's a stranger there just like maybe I'm a stranger inside "God's house."
Also, in reading, and unpacking all my worldly things that have been in storage for so long, now home in my new apartment, I've found lots of old diaries and journals.
And man, I love life. And how everyone has a story. A story full of love and lust and family and friends and loss and nonsense and epiphanies and denials and stumblings and mistakes and learning and patterns in all their randomness.
And not just the stories, but the details. Like how the peanut butter is on a shelf in my house because I put it there. And how I can decide what speed to dial on my window unit. And guitars and shoes and music. Things. Worldly goods. And how my living room has a green "accent wall" because I picked out the paint. And downloading ringtones on my phone. Ah.
I guess I've been thinking about this anyway. Stefan even wrote about it. Buddhists giving up things to find "enlightenment." Christians giving up the world for heaven. Since it is written that man and the world are inherently sinful. It says to be righteous you have to deny yourself and take up your cross. Deny the world, and you're old way of life.
I guess before I got so screwed up recently, or even someway during the process, I started to believe life is good. And the world. And love, though it comes and leaves as it pleases. And I'm not giving up one bit of it. Amen.
Shake, shake, shake, shake, shake it off ... I just downloaded that ringtone. AND WHAT?!
I just posted this MySpace bulletin that asked you to describe your love life in one word, and I used painstaking, but I'm not sure if that's right. But it seemed to fit the pain in my chest that comes and goes. Man, I did love me some Aaron.
I'm piecing things back together though. I feel really ridiculous for still feeling so ... not me, after some time has passed. But I'm getting there, and since it's almost like I spent a month in someone else's body, or somewhere else, I think I'm coming back OK.
I worked 12 hours yesterday. Five at my morning job and seven at night. I went to school today. Am still here. One more class today. I'm a hoss.
It is starting to wear on me a little. I've been trying to get out more, but I'm really poor. The second job was supposed to be for me. Just something to do. The thing that would get me that so-wanted mountain bike, or maybe a digital camera or an ipod. You know -- toys! Instead, business has plummeted so much at the bar that all my extra hours are barely picking up the slack.
So now it's like I work all the time, and go to school. And I'm poor and lonely, because I don't get out much other than work. My friends have been really great about visiting me on the job though. Fortunately.
My birthday is tomorrow. 25. Maybe that's where the nervous feeling in my stomach is coming from.
Quarter of a century. I tried to deny I've been thinking about it. I haven't really, until this month, when it seemed so hard to make ends meet even though I feel like I'm busting my ass. College is supposed to be that ass-busting buffer, er something. But I'm learning that when I get out I'll have to be careful, because it seems to matter less and less.
My mother busted her ass to get her degree. So did my sister. So did many of my friends. Where are all the great jobs in the universe with benefits and retirement and shit. Up Bush's ass. Ahah. Actually, I didn't mean for this to be any sort of commentary at all. I was just going to say they're up somebody's ass, and Bush came to mind.
Ah.
I do have a beautiful apartment. And I have been reading again. It feels good to read. I hadn't much in awhile. I read quite a bit of the Bible. I even went to church the last couple weekends.
I just wanted to make my mind up again. Because I haven't much experience in churches, and hadn't really read the Bible as an adult, making my own decisions and interpretations.
I still think it's interesting, but ... I don't know.
Did I write about church? I don't think I did. The first time I went again, two weekends ago, it was a really positive experience. I walked in myself, carrying my Bible, sang some hymns, read along to the lesson in the program. There were a lot of nice people there. It was a United Methodist Church, and the pastor was a woman and the congregation was a "reconciliation" one, meaning they accept anyone who wants to come in and worship.
I told some of our friends about it, including Jeff. So last Sunday four of us went together: me, Jeff, Brian, and Claire. They just wanted to check it out. We thought we could go and then talk about it afterwards. But then the service was almost two hours and most everything was littered with interjections about all the different things you could donate to the church that would in turn help the Katrina victims.
I don't know. The big verses that came up in lessons the last two weeks were from Romans. The ones about loving what is good and hating what is not. And seeking goodness, and the new commandment to love one another, that would serve the rest of them as the bottom line. Love a friend enough that you would die for them. Treat your neighbor like your brother basically.
And that's nice, in theory. I guess that's one of the reasons I went. Because what's the worst thing that could happen. Granted, when I told Aaron I was going to church he said he felt like if he walked in one he would burst into flames, but besides that, hah.
It just doesn't seem like anything bad could come of it. Just listening.
On the other hand, it isn't so easy to love right now. I'm still heartbroken, and I just lost my best friend. I'm realizing more and more that neither were the end-all, be-all. They can't be. That would make for a depressing life. But it's just hard.
And I also thought about how many churches there are in the world, and couldn't even fathom how many there were, and how many were gathering to hear what the Bible says is God's message. One that the New Testament claims is love, and feeling like the world outside of church is so loveless.
I almost felt like I was being not Tyler Durtan, but the other guy in fight club. Before he goes completely crazy and goes to all those meetings for like, testicular cancer. And he's a stranger there just like maybe I'm a stranger inside "God's house."
Also, in reading, and unpacking all my worldly things that have been in storage for so long, now home in my new apartment, I've found lots of old diaries and journals.
And man, I love life. And how everyone has a story. A story full of love and lust and family and friends and loss and nonsense and epiphanies and denials and stumblings and mistakes and learning and patterns in all their randomness.
And not just the stories, but the details. Like how the peanut butter is on a shelf in my house because I put it there. And how I can decide what speed to dial on my window unit. And guitars and shoes and music. Things. Worldly goods. And how my living room has a green "accent wall" because I picked out the paint. And downloading ringtones on my phone. Ah.
I guess I've been thinking about this anyway. Stefan even wrote about it. Buddhists giving up things to find "enlightenment." Christians giving up the world for heaven. Since it is written that man and the world are inherently sinful. It says to be righteous you have to deny yourself and take up your cross. Deny the world, and you're old way of life.
I guess before I got so screwed up recently, or even someway during the process, I started to believe life is good. And the world. And love, though it comes and leaves as it pleases. And I'm not giving up one bit of it. Amen.
Labels: birthdays, Buddhism, Church, College, MySpace
