Tengu House

An End to Christianity

 

I normally refrain from saying such things, but this whole Harold Camping affair has my ire up. These people spent millions of dollars to convince hundreds of families to cash in their life savings, sell or give away their homes, quit their jobs and pull their kids out of school, because the Christian Judgment Day was coming (this past Saturday, as I'm sure you heard). Yesterday Camping was quoted as saying he was "flabbergasted" that the Rapture hadn't occured as he'd predicted, and that the end of the world was evidently not, in fact, imminent.

It boggles the mind.

While it may fairly be said that Camping and his brigade of fucktards don't represent the teaching of the mainline Christian churches, to me this is just one more example of the kind of insanity brought on again and again throughout history by the blind devotion espoused by Judeo-Christianity and Islam.

How long are we going to continue this strange devotion to bronze-age superstitions? How many people have to be "flabbergasted" by the absolute and complete failure of their belief system? When is the human race going to finally rise up out of this age of hocus-pokus self-delusion?

I'm calling for an end to this madness. I'm asking anyone who reads this and agrees with me to speak up and act out, to encourage as many people as possible to finally put an end to the silliness of Christianity and its many wierd little branches and versions and sub-lines in their daily lives. We can really live without this nonsense; in fact, I believe we can live better, more productive lives without it. If you're tired of being told, "Through God all things are possible" by people who couldn't find Montana on a map (of Montana), you're with me. Sorry to be so rude about it, but it's going to have to end sometime. Isn't it?

At long last, let's do something about it. The insanity isn't going to stop itself.

Changes in 2011

Some of the things I'm going to change starting in January:

I'm going to write more, both here and in my fiction.

I'm going to get back into Buddhist training. I intend to do as many Shambhala-related trainings as I can in 2011, and plus at least one Shambhala sitting a week - and also, to continue my zen sitting at the cabin every night.

Back into the dojo, but not the same one. Continuing to take a break from aikido. I've checked out the Shotokan karate classes going on in West Houston, and am pretty excited about those guys. They appear to be the real deal, and I expect to train with them as soon as my retarded ankle heals (from where I took a header off the top of the stairs last week).

More blogging. Buddhist training will be covered here, while MA training will be covered at Aiki-Kuzushi. My other blogs will probably go away, as I really don't have a lot of use for them. Now that I think about it, though, maybe one covering life at the cabin would be cool. I could use LongColt for that, and post to it maybe once a month or so.

OK I guess that's about it. Will post more later. Maybe.

When Things Fall Apart - sort of

There's a lot of hurt going on here. I have this friend who recently helped me see how things can go to shit in an instant. She did this by taking this beautiful relationship, this friendship we've shared for some years, and crushing it. To be fair, she did what she did because she was hurting, and I suspect in part because of outside influences on her state of emotional health. She's been through a lot.

So I spent a few days in intense meditation. Not sitting for three days straight or anything, of course, but twenty minutes here, an hour there, for about three days. I didn't get much sleep but I did read a lot of Chogyam Trungpa, Lama Surya Das and Pema Chodron, and I've come to the following realizations.

First of all, nothing has actually fallen apart. Nothing has gone to shit, as I thought. This was simply my overreaction to my own misperceptions about virtually everything involved. My understanding of what was going on was completely clouded over, because my own attachment to that relationship wouldn't let me see that the whole thing was an illusion anyway. In fact, the illusion itself was a construct of my attachment.

Once all the dust settles, my friend and I will still be friends (I hope). We'll at least still know each other and will be able to start rebuilding whatever we had before, and we will both have learned something from the experience. It's not going to be easy, and I've made it more difficult than it needed to be by acting out of those hurtful emotions that always go along with episodes like this. But this kind of healing -- this kind of understanding -- is what comes from knowing where to turn when you're hurting; whose teaching to read, which voice to listen to. In my case, these teachers helped me pull myself out of this abyss of despair, and pretty quickly - although it still hurts, it doesn't look like it did a few nights ago.

Next time things fall apart for you, I recommend asking your teachers about it. Even if they don't know they're your teachers.

Thangkas of Shambhala

Just thought I'd include some thangkas from Shambhala, while I'm on the subject.

I did a simple search for "Shambhala thangka", so some of them might actually be something different. I include them here for the ascetic value, mostly. Enjoy.

 

 

 

 

 
 
 
 
 

Thanka Paintings of Chenrezig

Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva is the Bodhisattva of Compassion, and is said to dole out love in compassionate measure to allieviate the world's suffering. The most common explanation of her (or his) origin tells of Buddhism's adoption of some dieties from Taoism when it spread into China from India; the male Avalokitesvara, a prominent Indian (the name is Sanskrit) diety of the time, got mixed with the female Quan Yin, a Chinese Taoist goddess, and BAM! There ya go. So even today, you sometimes see this being depicted as male, sometimes female.

The Chinese call her (or him) Quan Zi Yi Pu Sa or Quan Zi Zai Pu Sa, or more commonly Quan Yin or Kuan Yin. The Japanese call her Kannon, and the Vietnamese say Quan An or Quan Am.

In Tibetan Buddhism, Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva is called Chenrezig, and is one of the most popular subjects for thangka paintings and devotional prayers. It is commonly believed that His Holiness the Dalai Lama is a reincarnation of Chenrezig.

Here are some pics of Tibetan thangkas depicting Chenrezig. I don't own these, I just saw them on the Interweb-thingy.

 

 

  

 

 
 

 

Fo Guang Shan

Now, anyone who reads this blog with any regularity (meaning me, basically) knows that I started out with a Chinese/Taiwanese order called Fo Guang Shan, but lost interest in them for what I've called political reasons. You also know that I actually left Fo Guang Shan some time ago. Well, I'm making it official today, and using this forum to offer what I think of as constructive critique.

First, I should point out that "lost interest" may be a bit harsh, and probably isn't entirely accurate. But at some point, I made the decision to stop going there. For me, this wasn't a judgmental thing, I still like them and all that stuff. Fo Guang Shan are good people, and I love all the people I met there during my time with them. It's just that, as a worldwide Buddhist Order, they're missing some huge opportunities.

See, the idea behind Fo Guang Shan is to spread the dharma throughout the world. This is (obviously) the stated goal of all such organizations, right? To help facilitate that, Fo Guang Shan has spread itself throughout the world. They quite famously have a large temple here in Houston, for just that purpose. While not as substantial as Hsi Lai Temple in LA, Chung Mei Temple in Stafford, Texas is a sizable compound, built as part of Fo Guang Shan's mission to propagate the Dharma in all parts of the world.

So then, why aren't they doing it? A few years ago, my sifu at the temple told me that the idea was to eventually have American monastics running the temples in the US, Australian monastics running the temples in Australia, German monastics in Germany, and so on. But I spent three years in the temple in Stafford, and mine was one of only two non-Chinese faces there during that time (not counting those who were there for the Chinese language classes or the Tai Chi classes, etc). One major reason for this is that, during that time, absolutely zero instruction was offered in English. Dharma talks, meditation instruction, half-day retreats, chanting services and other liturgical ceremonies, even special guest lectures were all conducted in Mandarin. Even the Short Term Monastic Retreat at Hsi Lai Temple was almost completely in Mandarin. How are you spreading the dharma to non-Chinese people, if you insist on only using the Chinese language? Much of what I learned during my time there was because of the years I spent in the Chinese language classes.

The vision is a grand one: American Buddhists, with their American schedules and American interests, driving American vehicles or whatever, studying and following the teachings of the Buddha, according to an American interpretation, running their Buddhist temples, even if under the direction of the older and more experienced Taiwanese masters from Khaishiung. But a few basic steps need to be taken in order for the right conditions to be in place for anything like that to happen.

1. First, all services should be offered in English. I'm not suggesting that Chinese (or any other language) can't be spoken, or even that it can't be the primary language used in the order; but your devotees, parishioners or whatever need to be able to understand your message.

2. Some form of program should exist, whereby westerners can aspire to monastic service within the order. I once asked about the possibility of one day becoming a monastic in the Fo Guang Shan order, and I was told that it basically won't happen, because novice monastics live and train at the main temple compound in Taiwan, and instruction is given only in Chinese. Culturally and liguistically, I was told, Americans are a poor fit. This needs to change. When Americans see other Americans in the monastic robes, and when interaction has begun between the society at large and a cadre of American monastics, the American laity will begin to grow in earnest.

3. Buddhist orders serving the American people should stay out of politics. All are welcome to share their opinions, of course - this is the best of the American tradition - but scandals involving illegal campaign contributions, etc, only serve to damage the credibility of everything we're trying to achieve. Also, I would caution American Buddhists and those serving the American sangha to temper their political speech. Not everyone listening to your dharma talk will agree with your politics, and you'll offend more people than you'll help.

Again, I don't mean to bash Fo Guang Shan, only to offer assistance, maybe some guidance in their quest to propagate the dharma. I was at a lecture once in the temple, which had been advertised as "Open to the General Public." But when the speaker began, it was suddenly clear to all in attendance that the lecture was to be given in Chinese, and the few non-Chinese locals who'd shown up quickly got up and left. I think this event sums it up nicely. Play to American audiences if you want an American audience.

By contrast, in Tibetan Buddhism, a number of orders are flourishing here in the West. My next entry will be an exploration of my newest adventure in Buddhism: Shambhala.

Reading, Writing and Other Stuff

 

Just a heads-up to let everyone know what I've been up to lately. The books I'm reading right now are: Who Ordered This Truckload of Dung?: Inspiring Stories for Welcoming Life's Difficulties, by Ajahn Brahm; Invoking Reality: Moral and Ethical Teachings of Zen, by John Daido Loori; Only Don't Know, by Zen Master Seung Sahn, Don't Know Mind: The Spirit of Korean Zen, by Richard Shrobe, and The Inner Journey: Views from the Buddhist Tradition, which is an anthology of Buddhist writing edited by Philip Novak.

In Aikido, I've recently read Spirit of Aikido, which is a kind of spiritual treatise of the art, by Kisshomaru Ueshiba, and A Life in Aikido: The Biography of Founder Morihei Ueshiba, also by Kisshomaru Ueshiba. I'm currently working my way through Aikido and the Harmony of Nature, a very heavily philosophical book by Mitsugi Saotome. If I wasn't writing a study guide for the dojo, I probably wouldn't bother to finish this one.

My priority is a manuscript sent to me by a close friend - I can't divulge much, but this is going to be one powerful book!

As for writing, Tristan has been relegated to a back burner for a while, and I haven't written a short story in a long time. It's hard to get into it, what with everything else going on - especially while facing a 100% rejection rate - LOL...

Considering becoming a monastic. This rat-race way of living isn't a very good fit for me, and I've been feeling compelled to check out the monastic lifestyle for a few years now. My interest was piqued at the Short Term Monastic Retreat in 2007, at Hsi Lai Temple; although I doubt I would be a monastic in the Fo Guang Shan order (I don't speak Chinese, for one thing). I'm not the greatest fit for zen, either; there's  something about not having the foggiest clue what anyone is talking about, that would get to me. Actually leaning toward the Theravada tradition, to be honest. Something about it feels closer to what the Buddha intended for his monks. I could always be wrong about that, of course - I have to admit a certain amount of ignorance about the whole topic. But whichever tradition I choose (whichever tradition chooses me), the thing is, I'm not doing a very good job of cultivating the buddha mind while I'm trying to hold down a hostile job and doing combat with everyone from the government to the mortgage company. Bear in mind the monastic transition would take place over the next three or four years, while I attend some more retreats and begin to wind down my dependence on political and material crap. Lots of baggage to discard.

So what to y'all think? Is any of these your favorite book? And what do you think about me eventually being a monk?

I Heard About This

 

A long time ago, a famous Buddhist saint was doing a kind of meditation called “perfect wisdom”, and came to the realization that even the things that make us who we are (our form or matter, our sensations or feelings, our ability to sense things; our perceptions and conceptions, cognition, our picking and choosing; mental formations such as impulses or volition, mental habits, thoughts, ideas, opinions, prejudices, compulsions, decisions, and even consciousness itself) are empty and devoid of their own independent existence. And this realization completely relieved all of the saint’s suffering.

See, he found that even what we think of as solid form, what would be the opposite of emptiness, is exactly emptiness, and is nothing other than emptiness. This means that things like color, sight and sound, taste, smell and touch, and even the sensory organs we use to sense them (including the mind), aren’t what we’ve always assumed them to be. They are nothing, and at the same time they aren’t simply “nothing”. No adjectives can properly be used to describe these things, because they’re really only projections of our conceptions – and then, even those conceptions are empty.

In this way, we can see that even those teachings that we hold most dear are fabrications. When the Buddha taught that we can alleviate our own suffering through realization of the Four Noble Truths, even that teaching is a fabrication, and has no real self, no real form. Even the act of understanding, of attaining something, because there's really nothing to attain, nothing to understand.

The saint also realized that all enlightened beings throughout the ages had already found this to be true, and that their great realization was the foundation of their enlightenment. Thus, this realization equals enlightenment – but that enlightenment is also a fabrication, without its own permanent, independent form. To realize all this, then, is the basis for alleviating all suffering, and is a constant truth, not some made-up lie.

So the saint taught that when we meditate in Perfect Wisdom, we should think on this emptiness, and that we should let this emptiness become a kind of mantra, a kind of theme for our meditation.

 

The Koan of Sitting - I think

I've never been a koan kinda guy. Of course, I'm still a beginner at all this zen stuff, but so far I've missed the whole point of a question like, "What is the sound of one hand clapping?" or, "What was your face before you were born?"

To me, it all sounds like a bunch of gobbledy-gook.  

There are zen questions that have helped me, though. Zen Master Dae Gak talks about the primordial practice of listening, and of finding one's zen mind through sound, and sometimes asks zen questions related to that practice. In chanting dharani, he had us chant "Old MacDonald Had a Farm" as if it were the Heart Sutra, which at first struck me as rather koan-like. His point was that it's not the words that matter, but rather the practice itself.

But Zen Master Dae Gak also teaches that the basis of our practice - the core of what we do as practitioners - is zazen. Koan practice, liturgical practice, chanting dharani, sutra copying, whatever, is secondary to the practice of seated meditation.

What I know from my own experience is this. When I sit, if I can set my mind free of the formation of words, and then sit long enough to free myself of the formation of concepts, I sometimes experience a wave of something like joy, like a very strong sensation of peace and simple elation. Sitting in zazen is difficult for me, but if I reach this point I can sit there as long as I want. Sometimes it's not joy, not any emotion at all, almost like being free of the burden of emotion. This is when it's really good, when I feel like this is what I was meant to be. Before the pollution of advertising, junk food and road rage, before the stress of finding a job before they take the house, or of getting to work on time, day after day - this is what I was. I'm getting back to my original self. Maybe, just maybe...this was my face before I was born.

As for the sound of one hand clapping, I have no friggin idea.  

Stupid Enlightenment

 
 
Since the death of Daido Roshi, I've been re-reading a couple of his books. This afternoon in Cave of Tigers, I came across a dharma encounter that struck me especially hard. Recently I feel especially aware of my own human imperfections. I neither regret nor lament them, but I've been noticing them more and more. Thich Nhat Hanh talks about embracing our imperfections, loving them as we would anything else about us and others. But I've wondered, what exactly is the relationship between our own imperfections and the enlightenment of all sentient beings? Are even enlightened Buddhas sometimes imperfect? Is it possible for someone to become enlightened, but then keep making the same dumb mistakes?

So this afternoon I found this passage in Cave of Tigers, by John Daido Loori, Roshi. I hope no one will mind me using it here. I think it goes a long way toward answering the question for me, so I thought I'd share it.

STUDENT: Is it true that zazen itself is enlightenment?

TEACHER: Yes.

STUDENT: So, when I sit and I'm falling asleep, or I'm daydreaming, or I'm not watching my thoughts, is my zazen enlightenment?

TEACHER: The very first thing the Buddha said upon his enlightenment is that all sentient beings are already enlightened. Obviously that includes our sleeping, our wakefulness, our intelligence, our stupidity. Most people have the idea that enlightenment is somewhere other than where they stand, so they run around looking for it. What Master Dogen is saying is that the process, zazen, and the goal, enlightenment, are not two things, any more than absolute and relative are two things. Form is emptiness, emptiness form. Delusion is enlightenment, enlightenment is delusion. Good and bad are the same thing. It doesn't compute logically, so what is it? 

STUDENT: Yes, I think I'm definitely getting stuck on that.

TEACHER: That's because you're trying to understand it by linear, sequential thought. The fact that you can't understand it doesn't mean that it's not so. Anything else?

STUDENT: No. Thank you for your answer.

TEACHER: May your life go well.

 

It's funny how so many of the questions I have about the nature of the Buddhadharma lead us back to the Heart Sutra. Form is emptiness, emptiness is form.

There is no attainment, with nothing to attain.