Buddhism, Skilfulness and Mastering Life: Dharma Stories Ancient and Modern

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Dr Stewart McFarlane

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CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION 5

CHAPTER 1: A Game of Chess 9 Commentary 10

CHAPTER 2: Kisagotami: Facing Death and Impermanence 14 Commentary 15

CHAPTER 3: A Truckload of Dung, or “Shit Happens” 16

CHAPTER 4: The Great Ape Jataka 18 Commentary 19

CHAPTER 5: The Cane Drinking Jataka 23 Commentary 23

CHAPTER 6: The Blind Men and the Elephant 25 Religious tolerance 29

CHAPTER 7: The Man Wounded By an Arrow, or Questions That Do Not Help Gain Spiritual Release 33 Commentary 34

CHAPTER 8: Buddhist Science Fiction, and an Ecological Message 36 Commentary 38

CHAPTER 9: Respect Your Teacher 45 Commentary 46

CHAPTER 10: Nanda and the Heavenly Maidens 47 Commentary 47

CHAPTER 11: Diamond Cuts Diamond, or the Taste of Curry and the Value of Money 49 Commentary 50

CHAPTER 12: The Exorcist 51 Commentary 51

CHAPTER 13: The Prodigal Son 52 Commentary 52

CHAPTER 14: The Tea Master and the Samurai 54 Commentary 54

CHAPTER 15: A Tea Master Disarms an Assassin 58 Commentary 58

CHAPTER 16: The Art of Fighting Without Fighting 59 Commentary 59

CHAPTER 17: The Compassion and Skilfulness of Dirty Harry 61 Commentary 62

CHAPTER 18: Conflict Resolution and Skilfulness Demonstrated by the Dalai Lama’s Security Guard 64 Commentary 65

CHAPTER 19: Angulimala: A Buddhist Transformation Story Conveying the Complexities of Karma 66 Commentary 68

CHAPTER 20: The Fisherman and the Businessman: Buddhism and Wealth 74 Commentary 75 Buddhist Economics 77

CHAPTER 21: The Cabbage Leaf in the Stream: Buddhism and Work 79 Commentary 80

CHAPTER 22: Bodhidharma and the Emperor Wu: Merit Making, the Buddhist Path and the Nature of Reality 84 Commentary 85

CHAPTER 23: Publishing the Sutras: Buddhism and Charity 95 Commentary 95

CHAPTER 24: The King’s Three Questions 96 Commentary 98

SOURCES FOR THE STORIES 101

REFERENCES, FURTHER SOURCES AND MATERIALS 107

INTRODUCTION

Storytelling is the primary method of teaching Buddha dharma (Buddhism) through most of its history. It was a method often employed by the Buddha himself in teaching. This may be a surprise to those more familiar with the “religions of the book”, in which reading the religious text is the primary means of teaching.

In the case of Buddhism, the earliest scriptures were not written down until over three hundred years after the passing away of the Buddha. Indian religious traditions reaching back to the ancient Vedas of the Brahmins, valued spoken teachings, remembered and transmitted orally in formal ritualized chanting. This is still the practice of Brahmins today; as well of Buddhist monks in South East Asia. The monks memorise the sutras, albeit nowadays with the help of printed texts. Originally, in the absence of printed texts, the sutras were transmitted by the elders, who would train and drill the next generation of monks. The Buddhist sutras were transmitted entirely orally by repetition for about three centuries after the Buddha’s passing. They were only then written down, in the Pali language in the case of the Theravada texts, and in other vernacular Prakrit languages in the case of the other early schools or in Buddhist Sanskrit in the early Mahayana. Even after written texts were developed, the main method of transmitting the sutras was through oral recitation by groups of monks.

Interestingly the primary method of teaching Dharma in South East Asian Buddhism is not by sutra chanting, which is in the Pali scriptural language, which is unintelligible to most lay people and in fact to many monks. The main mode of teaching Buddhism to people is by little discourses and stories told by the monks, in the vernacular language. These may include stories from the canonical texts, but may equally well involve traditional folk tales and contemporary incidents, even news stories from the press or TV. Justin Thomas McDaniel’s fascinating study of how Buddhist teaching and monastic education actually operates in Laos and Thailand, shows how little use is made of the Pali texts as such, and how much vernacular stories and homilies form the core of the teaching delivered both to novice monks and to lay people. (McDaniel, Gathering Leaves and Lifting Words, 2008.)

Of course in the early centuries of Buddhism in India, the languages of Pali and other Prakrits, were vernacular, spoken languages of different North Indian regions. The Buddha instructed his monks to teach Dharma in the vernacular language of wherever they were actively teaching. But in time, the languages changed, as vernacular languages do, but the scriptural language of the suttas, remained the same as it was transmitted and chanted by the monks. So what were originally vernacular languages became scriptural languages such as Pali. They did so by staying the same as they were at the time of transmission. This then meant that special training in the scriptural languages such as Pali and Buddhist Hybrid Sanskrit was a requirement for monks. Of course it was only the minority of scholarly monks who really mastered the scriptural language. The majority just memorised and chanted the sutras. Knowing a text by heart, so that one can chant it in a group of fellow monks, is not the same as knowing the language, in the sense of understanding the grammar, vocabulary and meaning of the text.

It is true to say that in East Asian forms of Buddhism as well as Tibetan Buddhism, the reverence for the written sacred texts, the Buddhist sutras is greater than was the case in early

Indian Buddhism. This is partly for cultural reasons and partly for historical reasons. In Tibetan and East Asian Buddhism, in China, Korea and Japan, there is a serious reverence for the written text. The reverence for the written word and the authoritative text is fundamental to Confucian Chinese culture, which strongly influenced Korean and Japanese cultures. Furthermore, it was as written texts that the substantive teachings of Buddha-dharma were transmitted to China, Japan, Korea and Tibet. A period of oral transmission of the sutras was unknown in these countries. Because the texts had to be translated into Tibetan or Chinese before they could be learned studied and chanted, then these written texts were greatly revered. The ritualized chanting of texts in these countries is always with reference to a written text. Even in the case of long serving monks who know the texts by heart, they will still have the Tibetan or Chinese text open in front of them in formal ritual chanting ceremonies. It is part of the reverence for the text.

It is also true to say that despite the roles of formal chanting and textual study even in East Asian Buddhism, the predominant method of teaching Dharma is through vernacular stories and homilies, which may draw on materials and stories in the sutras, but will also draw on oral traditions, folk tales and contemporary events. Despite the reverence for the written sutras, specialized training in the language of the Sutras either Classical Tibetan, or Buddhist Chinese, which is very different from Classical Chinese, is needed to be able to read and study them. This is also true for South East Asian Buddhists. As I have said, monks need to be given special training in Pali in the case of South East Asian Buddhism, and Classical Tibetan or Buddhist Chinese, as well detailed explanations, in order to know what the sutras are saying. As a former resident in monasteries, I can confirm that being able to chant a sutra even in Chinese or Tibetan is not the same as being able to read the sutra and understand its message. The later requires specialist training. That is why I went to universities to learn Pali, Sanskrit and Chinese, to study the sutras and texts in their original languages. This explains why most Dharma teaching delivered by monks, especially that delivered to lay people consist of homilies, stories and discourses in the local language, and which are usually simple and easy to follow.

One of the central themes of many of the stories is that of Skilful Means (upāya-kaushalya). In Buddhism, this may be defined as the skill or ability of a teacher to manipulate a situation so that a being in a state of delusion or with a particular problem is brought to a higher level of greater understanding, or at least to avoid further unwholesome actions which will cause them greater suffering. In the traditional understanding, Skilful means involve the compassionate intervention of an enlightened teacher, and their ability to understand the spiritual condition and mental state of the person, and to teach them on a level appropriate to their mental and spiritual capacity. In doing so the teacher leads people out of states of suffering and ignorance to higher levels of understanding.

Both teachers in the first two stories in this book are employing skilful means and very radical forms of active learning. They do not preach to the learner about death, suffering, loss and the need for compassion. They set the learner an active task, which raises the stakes of their own personal involvement with these issues; win a game of chess with this monk, or the Zen Master will kill you. Find the right grains of mustard in order to save your child. These tasks and the context in which they are set bring the learner to a direct experiential understanding of impermanence and human mortality and to a direct encounter with their innate compassion. These two stories are vivid demonstrations of Buddhist use of skilful means and effective teaching.

The story of the Prodigal Son (Chapter 13) is a model for how enlightened Buddhist teachers including the Buddha himself, use gradual and indirect methods to disclose the reality of things

as they are. When people are ready to understand and accept them. The story is from the Lotus Sutra, the core text of Mahāyāna (Great Vehicle) Buddhism, dedicated to the spiritual power of compassion and the effectiveness of Skilful Means. In the story, the Buddha’s compassion is directly compared to the compassion of the father. The act of concealing his true identity is justified, because it arises from his compassion and love for his son. This compassion is fundamental to the Mahāyāna Buddhist teaching of Skilful Means and is implicit in all forms of Buddhism.

Subtlety, concealment and even not telling the whole truth are justified if the motivation is correct and the person using this method is sufficiently spiritually developed to use it wisely and compassionately. It is never a blanket dispensation to tell lies out of convenience or to pursue unworthy and unskillful ends. In the Sutras and Zen texts, the exemplars of Skilful Means are always advanced teachers, Bodhisattvas or Buddhas.

In many of the examples and analogy given in the Lotus Sutra it is made clear that the deception involved in exercising Skilful Means is justified because it succeeds in detaching the person concerned from their deluded condition, which can only lead them to suffering, whereas the device or deception involved in Skilful Means leads them to a higher level of understanding and reduces or removes suffering. Hence, in the Prodigal Son story from the Lotus Sutra, the father deliberately conceals his true identity from his long lost son, in order to facilitate their eventual reconciliation. Similarly in the famous, “Burning House” story in chapter three of the Lotus Sutra, the Father promises toy carts he does not have to his three young sons, to get them to leave the burning house which is about to collapse. On getting them to safety, the relieved father, rather than giving them toy carts, presents them with a full size, lavishly decorated cart, drawn by white bullocks instead. The real bullock cart represents the true Buddha vehicle, which for this sutra is also the Mahāyāna, which delivers all beings from suffering in the conflagration of worldly existence.

In the skilful means story of Kisagotami (Chapter Three), the Buddha shows great psychological skill by responding in the way he did. He does not lecture or sermonise to Kisagotami on the universality of death and the frailty of life. He knows that in her distracted and grieving state she needs an active task, through which she learns this lesson for herself. The logic of Skilful Means is clearly apparent in his handling of Kisagotami’s plight. So according to this logic, deception, lying, being cruel to be kind are justified in the right context if they are motivated by compassion and will save the person involved from suffering. Hence in the Exorcist (Ch 12) story about Ajahn Chah, the Master’s feigned indifference to the fate of the possessed woman in the Exorcist, in ordering the villagers to bury her alive, is what restores her sanity. Similarly, in the Dirty Harry story involving Harry’s feigned indifference to the fate of the intended suicide, is what distracts and finally restores the man to his senses and prevents his death.

The particular logic of Skilful Means justifies these deceptions in the interest of helping others and saving them from suffering. (For further examples and analysis, see: Stewart MCFARLANE “Skilful Means, Moral Crises and Conflict Resolution” in Chanju MUN ed. Buddhism and Peace. Theory and Practice, 2006, Blue Pine Books, Hawaii, USA, and: Michael PYE Skilful Means, Duckworth, UK 1978, Routledge, UK 2003.)

In East Asia particularly, the concept of Skilful Means indirectly enters ordinary language and popular understanding so that it is even extended to contexts not related to Buddha dharma to mean, “telling white lies”, usually to save face or for convenience, to maintain family or social harmony. So that among the standard definitions of the Chinese fang bian or Japanese hōben, 方便, which are the characters used to translate the Sanskrit upāyakaushalya, is “convenient” or

“convenience” or “expedient,” or sometimes “trickery”. (See Michael PYE Skilful Means, Ch 8 pp137-145 for further discussion of uses of ‘hōben’ in modern Japanese.)

The stories in this volume represent the full range of the kind of stories found in the Buddhist tradition. They include textually based stories apparently told by the Buddha himself and found in the Pali Canon. They also include folk type stories, elevated into the status of Canonical texts. Some of the Buddhist Jātakas, or stories of the former lives of the Buddha, may be seen as examples of this genre. There are also stories from later Mahāyāna texts such as the Lotus Sutra, which are regarded as the Buddha’s teaching for members of Mahāyāna lineages. In addition there are stories from the Ch’an/Zen lineages of China and Japan, which date from the about the 8th Century CE to modern times. This collection includes some traditional Thai folk tales with a distinctly Buddhist theme. There are stories about or from recent or contemporary Buddhist teachers such as Ajahn Chah and Ajahn Brahm, as well as an incident that I witnessed personally. There are stories from Hollywood movies, such as “Dirty Harry” and “The Karate Kid”, which convey a message significant to Buddhism, even if the characters are not Buddhist. Finally, there is a story from Leo Tolstoy, who was a mystically orientated Christian, not a Buddhist, but his message in the story is equally appropriate to Buddhism.

The intention behind these stories and my commentary attached to each, is to convey the central teachings of Buddhism, and also to convey a sense of the way Buddhist teachings work in practice, and what it feels like to engage with Buddhism as a living discipline and tradition.

I have extensively paraphrased or rewritten all of the stories in this collection, for emphasis and clarity, but always adhered to the central ideas and narrative. The exception to this is The King’s Three Questions by Tolstoy, the original title is, “Three Questions”. This story has only been slightly rephrased in places, and adheres closely to the English translation of the great writer’s original Russian story. Many of the stories are available in variant forms in different publications, some were first made known to me in oral versions, and I managed to identify published versions later. Where the story only exists in oral form, this is indicated. Where a story is from personal experience, this is also indicated. Stories from film narratives are also fully referenced.

CHAPTER 1 A Game of Chess

A rich young nobleman in medieval Japan experienced a sudden disappointment and began to question his life and its meaning, but was unsure what to do about his sense of dis-ease and disappointment. A friend recommended that he visit a very wise Zen Master at his temple in the countryside. The young man went to the temple, and because of his status was quickly allowed an interview with the Master. The young man answered the Master’s questions about his family and background, and explained that from what he had seen of monastic life on his visit, he doubted that he had the discipline and dedication to practice Buddhism and understand its teachings.

The Master asked him what he excelled in. The young man replied that in his life of luxury and privilege, the only interest he really pursued with any level of skill was chess, and that he was considered an excellent player. “Very good” said the Master, “then you can play chess for me”. He called for a board and chessmen, set them up and called for a young monk from the meditation hall. Finally, he took down the lethal looking sword that is placed before the image of Manjushri Bodhisattva, representing the sword of wisdom with which Manjushri cuts through ignorance and delusion.

Placing the sword by the chessboard the Master said, “You will play chess with this monk. I shall take the winner on as my personal student”. This is a rare privilege and a virtual guarantee of Zen Enlightenment. “The loser, I shall cut of his head with this sword”. The nobleman thought, “Shit, what have I let myself in for?” It should be pointed out that in Medieval Japan, the head of a Buddhist temple had total jurisdiction and control in his own temple. If he killed a student, no legal action could follow. The young man realized that the Master meant what he said, and his own pride and sense of honour would not let him back out of the challenge. After all he was from the elite samurai class and, and had entered the temple of his own volition.

He began to play. For an hour, his attention did not leave the board. The two chess players were evenly matched. The young man’s focus was total. He was playing for his life. The board became his universe. Another hour passed, and the nobleman began to gain the upper hand. He had more experience as player and could see an opening. As the moves progressed, he could see he would mate his opponent and for the first time in nearly three hours, he looked up from the board at his opponent. The young monk was completely calm, resigned to his fate, thin and drawn in the face from long hours in meditation and manual work. He displayed no fear, nor showed any resentment at his situation and imminent death. The nobleman then realized he could not take this man’s life. He didn’t know him, the monk had never harmed him, and he had not asked to be put in this desperate plight. Why should his life be forfeit?

The game progressed and the nobleman made one bad move after another. He was throwing away the game. Soon the tables were turned the monk was about to place his opponent in

checkmate. As the final move was about to be made, the Master stood up and kicked over the chessboard, saying,

”No winner, no loser”

He turned to the nobleman and said, “You told me that you lacked the discipline and dedication to follow the Buddhist Path. But today in this game of chess you have shown the two essential qualities for Buddhist practice: concentration and compassion. For three hours, the chessboard was your universe. The game was your life and you were totally concentrated, your mind was calm and refined. Then you showed the second quality of Buddhist training, compassion. You were not prepared to take the life of another, no matter what the cost or the reward

Remain with me a while longer, cultivate what you have learned and I promise you fulfilment in your life”.

COMMENTARY

This story gives an insight into the heart of Buddhist practice. The Zen Master neatly summarizes this as: focused concentration (samādhi), and the active expression of compassion (karuṇā). More importantly, these skills are actually facilitated by the Zen Master and are directly experienced at a high level by the young nobleman.

It further discloses the full impact of the Three Marks of Existence that are fundamental to the Buddha’s teaching. These are: suffering, impermanence and no self. The story shows how these apparently negative characteristics of human existence can be used to creatively support spiritual growth and enlightenment. The story provides an account of the real awakening in experience of the nature of Buddhist practice of meditation, as well as an experiential understanding of the central themes of Buddhist teaching.

The story also shows how a true Buddhist teacher has the skill to use virtually any situation to evoke a meditative state of mind and bring another person to a deeper understanding of his or her own life and ultimate concerns. This is called “skilful means” and it is a method central in Buddhist ways of teaching. The initial setting of the story may sound remote and archaic. Medieval Japanese nobility, an ancient Zen temple, and a stern Zen Master. However the young man’s dilemma and the understanding he gained are as relevant to 21st century life as to Medieval Japan. How can we drive a car safely without exercising concentration (samādhi) and compassion (karuṇā)? We need concentration to handle a potentially lethal machine without killing and injuring others. Why do we wish to drive with care? Because we don’t want to cause suffering, death or injury, to others and ourselves. Of course, I fully admit that we also may be concerned about damaging the car and losing our no claims discount, or avoiding an expensive court case or a speeding ticket. But the wish not to plough into a group of school kids or pregnant women crossing the road, or a road maintenance worker with a family of eight to support, are also considerations.

So how does the story illuminate the core teachings of Buddhism as well as give an understanding of Buddhist practice? It introduces a privileged young nobleman who has

suffered an unspecified disappointment in his life. As a result, he is unhappy and feels that his life is lacking. In fact, this is the first Noble Truth (Ennobling Truth) of the Buddha’s teaching and the First Mark of Existence: The sense of dis-ease, inadequacy that something is missing from our lives. Often this arises from personal loss, illness or bereavement. All these characteristics constitute what the Buddha called dukkha, usually translated “suffering”, but really the whole range of experiences from mild disquiet, to unpleasantness, to sense of something lacking, through to extremes of mental torment, anguish or physical pain. The Buddha never said that life was all like this, but he did say that the fact of being alive entails some measure of suffering. In fact, in terms of the analysis of mental states, the Abhidhamma texts list far more pleasant mental states than unpleasant ones. But while this is true, it has to be admitted that it is the unpleasant ones which have the biggest impact on us. In a way the experience of the rich nobleman in the story and Shakyamuni Buddha in his youth,were similar, both were born into privilege and luxury. Shakyamuni Buddha was a prince named Siddharta, a member of the warrior elite of India. He was identified when still a baby as an extraordinary being with a great future, as either a great king or a great holy man. His father wanted the first option, so the king tried to protect Siddhartha from knowledge of the outside world and the unpleasant things in life, wanting him instead to remain in the palace and inherit his kingdom. Like the Japanese nobleman, the protected and privileged lifestyle made the awareness of the unpleasant facts of human existence even more intense. In young Prince Siddhartha’s case, these occurred on his secret journeys from the palace. During these trips, he encountered a sick man, an old man, a corpse and a wandering holy man. Up until this point in his life he was not even aware people get old, get sick and die; so the impact and of these encounters was intense. They caused the Prince to question his whole existence and renounce his political role and his worldly power and wealth in order to pursue the path to Enlightenment. This is the kind of existential crisis, perhaps only dimly perceived and barely understood, which led our Japanese nobleman to his encounter with the Holy Man, in his case, the Zen Master in his temple.

Closely related to the fact of suffering and the sense of disease and unsatisfactoriness, is the fact of impermanence (anicca. Sanskrit: anitya). Everything changes. This is the Second Mark of Existence in Buddhist teaching. The pleasant mental states I mentioned earlier do not last and are replaced by unpleasant ones, and so we feel discomfort and unease, and immediately crave after the return of the pleasant states. The Second Noble Truth of Buddhism is that we suffer because we crave and grasp after things. These may be mental states, material objects and wealth that we mistakenly believe will bring happiness and contentment, or they may be people, or abstractions, such as security, power, status, or ideals such as international socialism, world peace, and equality. Inevitably, when these things are not attained or the people we are attached to change or die we are disappointed, grief stricken, heartbroken, we suffer. The young man in the story was not happy despite his wealth and privilege, he craved for contentment, he craved for answers. But selfish craving for his own contentment and spiritual fulfilment only seemed to have brought him into another state of dis-ease or suffering. His winning of the game of chess appeared to be about to cause the death of an innocent monk. So here, we have impermanence demonstrated on a number of levels. Within a three hour chess game our Japanese nobleman’s discontent with his life was replaced by his mental state of satisfaction at knowing he could win the chess game and find spiritual contentment, only to be replaced by real concern that he was about to cause another person’s death. The death itself is of course another form of impermanence.

On one level, everyone can accept that things change: that existence is in a state of flux. And that changes in live often give rise to suffering, especially if we are attached to things, states and people as permanent when clearly they are not. So the first two marks of existence, suffering and impermanence are to some extent common sense. Most people would agree that they are

part of the facts of our existence. The third mark of existence is more problematic. It is that “all things are without self (anattā. Sanskrit: anātman). This is the most distinctive and most difficult of the Buddha’s teachings. Many teachers and scholars have devoted many lifetimes and millions of words to grappling with this teaching. In this account of our story I am not going to attempt to grapple with the theoretical and philosophical implications of the teaching of no-self, these will be discussed in Chapter 22. Here I shall use our story of the game of chess to illustrate the experiential and practical implications of this teaching. Before the end of the three-hour game of chess, the young man had actually realized experientially no-self and had acted on it.

By the end of the game, he had ceased to place his own personal interests first. He no longer only considered himself and no longer assumed that his own life was of greater value than that of the monk. He had lost self-importance, something rare and difficult for a Japanese nobleman to do. Furthermore, he had acted on his insight before he really knew he had it, and had acted selflessly, being prepared to die himself rather than see the monk die for him. In acting from no- self he had actively manifested supreme compassion. This is exactly what traditional Mahayana Buddhist teaching states: that the highest form of compassion arises from no-self or emptiness. The brief text known as the Heart Sutra or Xin Jing (Chinese or Hannya shingyo in Japanese) which is recited in Zen temples in Japan every day, makes this quite clear. It is a theme further developed in the Diamond Sutra and other Perfection of Wisdom (Prajñāpāramitā) sūtras. These provide much of the theoretical basis of Zen teaching and methods. (Translations of both these important texts and many other key Buddhist texts can be found at http://www2.fodian.net/world.)

But how did this remarkable transformation in the young man’s consciousness come about? It begins with the young man’s motivation, his coming to the Zen monastery in the first place. We are not given the details; just that he had suffered a disappointment in his life. The key here is that he,”suffered”. In other words, he experienced dukkha, which because of his privileged and protected lifestyle had a profound and disturbing impact on him. Rather as the painful facts of human existence had a huge impact on the mind of the young Siddhartha when he was privileged prince in India. So our young nobleman goes to see the Zen Master in search of answers and to put an end to his suffering or dis-ease. What he encounters there is apparently an even greater and more immediate problem, not just his suffering, but also the prospect of death if he loses the game of chess. Like the young Shakyamuni’s encounter with suffering, old age and death, this concentrates his mind wonderfully. He is totally focused; he is playing for his life. For almost the entire three hours of the game, there is only the chessboard and his next moves and the possible counters of his opponent. He is totally absorbed. This absorption is called “right concentration” (sammā samādhi) and it is the basis of Buddhist meditation practice. According to traditional Buddhist teachings, the systematic training of one pointedness or concentration of mind, equips the practitioner with the mental skill and acuity open their mind and start to see things as they are. Fundamental to this process is the mental calming and quietening (samatha), which flows from sustained concentration (samādhi). For our young man, the calming and quietening of his mind arising from his focused absorption in the game, gives him the mental breathing space in which he normal self-interested thought processes and emotional reactions are suspended, for long enough for him to begin to see things as they really are. That he is not the centre of the universe, that his personal interest and pursuits do not necessarily over ride those of the monk opposite. In other words, he sees things in terms of “no- self” (anattā). Seeing things as empty of self, oneself included frees you from them. So the wisdom or insight into no self or the emptiness and insubstantiality of things frees you from attachment to them. So liberating insight or wisdom (paññā/prajña) frees you from craving and attachment. By losing his self-importance, and preparing to lose the game and his own life, the young man had acted from no-self or supreme compassion. He was prepared to lose all, the

game, his life his opportunity to end his disease by studying with a top Zen Master. He achieved non-attachment at a high level.

According to traditional Buddhist methods focused concentration and absorption while they do always produce calmness, they do not automatically produce insight into “no-self” or the full wisdom of seeing things as they are. The context has to be right. In this story, an advanced teacher, who can read the mental state and motivation of the young nobleman, understands the whole situation. The Zen Master is there to provide the right context. That is his skilful means. He knows that in a life and death situation of real intensity, the absorption and mental calm of the young man will assist the turning around deep in his consciousness, and the opening of insight. The young nobleman’s willingness to let go of his own life, and his own selfish interests, in order to avoid the death of another, reflected a high level of compassion but also of wisdom. At its highest level, this liberating wisdom is Nibbāna /Nirvāna, the complete cessation of craving and attachment. The highest attainment in Mahāyāna and Zen Buddhism is normally described in as Supreme Awakening or Enlightenment (sambodhi). The apparently contradictory process of pursuing self-interests and then abandoning them, and exercising supreme wisdom and compassion in the process, is beautifully described by another Japanese Zen Master, Dōgen Zenji from the 13th century,

“To study the way of the Buddhas is to study the self. To study the self is to forget the self. To forget the self is to be enlightened by all things; and this enlightenment breaks the bonds of clinging to both body and mind; not only for oneself but also for all beings. If the enlightenment is true it wipes out all clinging, even to enlightenment.” Dogen Zenji – Genjo Koan

CHAPTER 2 Kisagotami: Facing Death and Impermanence

Gotami was a young woman from a poor family. Because she was so frail, she was named Kisagotami (Frail Gotami). In accordance with Indian tradition when she married, she joined her husband’s household, where because of her poverty and low status, she was treated with contempt. Then she bore a son and began to gain some respect from her husband’s family. When the child was still a toddler he fell ill and died. Kisagotami went crazy with grief and in denial she wandered around the village with the baby on her hip asking for medicine to heal her child. People scorned her and said there was no medicine for the dead. She looked blank as if not understanding their words. A wise man in the village took pity on the girl and told her to find the Lord Buddha, the Possessor of the Ten Forces, and greatest being among men and gods. He would be sure to know of medicine for the child. So she travelled to the monastery where the Buddha was staying and paid her respects and asked for medicine for her son. The Buddha seeing her mental state and seeing her capacity for awakening to the truth, told her, “You did well coming to see me. Go to the city and ask there for grains of mustard seed. But you must only take seed from a house where no-one has died. So with a delighted heart she entered the city, and at each house asked for mustard seeds as medicine for her son. Telling them that the Buddha said she should only take seed from a house free of death, she asked the question, “Has anyone died here?” Time and time again she visits house after house, asking for the seeds and asking the question, and each time she is told of the deaths in each family. As she completes her visit to every house in the city, she realizes that the living are few, and the dead are many. What she thought was unique to her alone was common to everyone. She took her child to the cremation grounds, and saying goodbye to her son she reflects on the impermanence of all things. She then returns to the Buddha, and when he asks if she got the mustard seeds. She says she is done with the mustard seeds, and only wishes for refuge in the Buddha, his teaching and his community (Buddha, Dharma & Sangha). The Buddha accepts Kisagotami with a verse saying that however much a person delights in and clings to children family and cattle, death will take them away as a flood sweeps away a sleeping village. Though one were to live to be a hundred, not seeing the region of the deathless (Enlightenment/Nirvāna), it would be better to live only a single day if one could see the region of the deathless. On hearing the Buddha’s words Kisagotami realizes that all things are impermanent, unsatisfactory and without self (The Three Marks of Existence). She immediately achieves “stream entry”, the spiritual awakening that marks the entry onto the higher (ariya) path to Nirvāna. She becomes a nun, and as she is meditating, she sees the lamps flickering and the dying, and fully realizes the transitory nature of all beings and all existence. She persists in her meditation, encouraged by the appearance of the Buddha, and the same night she achieves Nirvāna and becomes an Arahant (Worthy One).

COMMENTARY

This story provides an understanding of the universality of impermanence, and in particular the reality of death and human suffering. It also shows the Buddha using his skill and compassion to bring a grieving mother to a higher level of understanding and to spiritual development. The Buddha knows that in a grief stricken state, it is difficult to see and accept things as they, but by fully realizing the universality of human mortality and loss, the young woman can move from grief to compassion for the grief of others and to acceptance of her loss.

It would appear on first hearing or reading this story that the Buddha is unfeeling, even dishonest, in appearing to be in a position to give effective medicine to restore the dead child to life. This impression may be compounded by the sense that most Buddhists would believe that the Buddha, like Jesus, had the spiritual power restore the dead. But in fact the Buddha shows great psychological skill by responding in the way he did. He does not lecture or sermonize to Kisagotami on the universality of death and the frailty of life. He knows that in her distracted and grieving state she needs an active task, through which she learns this lesson for herself. The logic of Skilful Means is clearly apparent in his handling of Kisagotami’s plight.

It may be seem harsh to promise a cure when there is none, or to refuse to restore the child if he has the power. But if he followed the latter option then Kisagotmi would not learn anything other than the lord Buddha has great spiritual power. She and her child still have to face the reality and universality of death, at some time in the future. By appearing to engage with Kisagotami in her grief stricken mental state, and endorse her sense that the child is not dead, or can be restored, the Buddha is able to communicate with her and get her act on her own behalf, to go out and search for the mustard seeds and above all to engage with others who have lost loved ones. This starts her on a learning curve and an education in the universality of human loss and grief. Moved to compassion for others, she sees her own grief in perspective and progresses spirituality. So much so that she joins the Buddhist Sangha (monastic community), quickly progresses in meditation and becomes an enlightened follower of the Buddha (Arahant).

Both teachers in the first two stories are employing skilful means and very radical forms of active learning. They do not preach to the learner about death, suffering, loss and the need for compassion. The set the learner an active task, which raises the stakes of their own personal involvement with these issues; win a game of chess with this monk or the Zen Master will kill you. Find the right grains of mustard in order to save your child. These tasks and the context in which they are set bring the learner to a direct experiential understanding of impermanence and human mortality and to a direct encounter with their innate compassion. These two stories are vivid demonstrations of Buddhist use of skilful means and effective teaching.

CHAPTER 3 A Truckload of Dung, or “Shit Happens”

This is a contemporary story from Ajahn Brahm, an English Buddhist monk who trained with Ajahn Chah, one of the most respected Buddhist teachers of the 20th century, in his forest monastery in North East Thailand. Ajahn Brahm is now head of Bodhinyana Monastery in Western Australia.

Imagine you have had a lovely day at the beach with a friend. You get home and in your driveway in front of your door, someone has dumped a huge truckload of dung. You didn’t order it, no one saw who delivered it, and it is stinking the whole house out.

You can choose to respond in a number of ways. You can leave it in front of your door and live with the vile smell, but complain endlessly asking why this had to happen to you and why is life so unfair and full of shit. Your friends avoid you at home because of the smell, and they avoid you everywhere else because you spend all your time complaining about the pile of dung and how unfair and shit your life is. You can try to get rid of it by stuffing some into your pockets, into your bags, anywhere. This doesn’t work and soon loses you any friends you had left because you smell so bad. Another way is to get your shovel and wheelbarrow and start shifting the dung, bit by bit into your back garden, and digging into the soil, thereby giving your trees and roses extra rations of dung. Neighbours too want some for their gardens and you are happy to barrow it round and dig it in just to get rid of the stuff. It may take months to shift, but eventually the pile of dung is gone. And the bonus is a few weeks later your garden is flourishing; the flowers smell great, your fruit trees are laden with delicious fruit. You are giving flowers and fruit away to friends and strangers because of the bumper harvest. Your neighbours too are delighted with their gardens. You have never been so popular.

The story is of course about the choices we have in the way we respond when shit happens.

Life’s adversities and unfairness can either force us to wallow in negativity and complaints, playing the victim and making things unpleasant for those around us. Or we can try to hide our problems and pretend they are not there, when it is perfectly obvious that they are. The outcome of that strategy tends to lead to depression, social isolation and denial. The “stink” of negativity and denial literally drives people away, eventually, even those who care for us, don’t want to know.

The alternative is to accept the situation you are in and start working hard to rectify it. You dig your way out of the mess. However long it takes, however hard the task, you chip away at it little by little. The work of digging away at your problems becomes rewarding in itself. You start to see the benefits as the plants and trees thrive. The pain, anger and indignation with which you

felt towards the pile of dung, starts to diminish. People around your respect your focus and are happy to be in your company since you are getting on with the job and not complaining. You get mentally fitter and stronger with the exercise, and with the accompanying positive attitude, eventually the job is done, the shit is cleared. The benefits are starting to be realized.

Then you realize something else, you could not have got these benefits without the initial setback or disaster of this pile of shit on the driveway. Because of the pain and hassle you went through initially, you are in a position to sympathize with others when shit happens to them. You can gently point out to them to tools they need, or the specialist help they need to start dealing with it. If you never had your own shit to deal with, or had simply let it destroy you, then you would be in no positions to help others or point them in the right direction.

So the next time shit happens, accept it and ask yourself, “How am I going to deal with it?”

Ajahn Brahm makes the point that in his experience the most effective Buddhist teachers are the ones who had to struggle with immense problems and overcome them, both as monks and before they entered the Buddhist Sangha. He believes that the strength they develop in adversity and the insight they gain into human suffering, make them both sympathetic and effective in helping others face and deal with their problems.

CHAPTER 4 The Great Ape Jataka

A great ape with his thousands of monkey followers lived in thick jungle by the Ganges. All of them could feed in a great mango tree that had branches reaching out over the river. The ape told his subjects to gather up all the unripe hard fruit that grew on branches overhanging the river and throw it away. He knew that if the ripe fruit was carried down the river it would attract the attention of humans and bring them to the apes’ domain. The apes did as they were told, and gathered the unripe fruit, but they missed one mango fruit that was hidden behind an ant nest. This mango grew and ripened and fell into the river, and was carried downstream to be found by the King of Varanasi as he fished in the Ganges near his city. He asked the locals what it was and was told it was a delicious fruit. He had them taste it, and then he tried it himself. He had never tasted anything so good. He craved for more and set out up river with his troops and courtiers, in a fleet of boats to find the mango tree. They found it and feasted on mangoes, then set up camp for the night. In the night, the great ape came with his subjects to eat the mangoes. Immediately the king ordered his archers to surround the great tree and prevent the monkeys from escaping, promising that they would feast on mangoes and monkey flesh. The monkeys were terrified, but the great ape calmed them saying he would save them all.

The ape bravely climbed out on a huge branch over the river, and with a mighty leap landed on the opposite side. He found the strongest vine he could, and climbed a high tree by the river. He calculated the length of vine he would need to reach back across to the mango tree and securing the vine around his waist, he made another great leap towards the mango tree. But the vine was just too short and the ape could only reach and grab a branch of the mango tree. But he held on and steadied himself, and ordered the monkeys to cross over on his back and climb up the vine to safety on the other side of the river. Asking his forgiveness, the thousands of monkeys did as commanded, and made their way into the trees on the other side. The ape was exhausted but using all his strength, he held on. The last monkey was a secret enemy of the great ape and seeing his chance to harm him, climbed a high branch in the mango tree and jumped forcefully onto the ape’s back, breaking it and causing agony to the heroic ape. The evil monkey fled with the others leaving the great ape at the mercy of the King and his troops.

The King marvelled at what he had seen. A mere animal had saved thousands of fellow creatures and sacrificed his own life in doing so. He decided it was unjust to kill such a noble beast. He ordered his men to climb the tree and bring the ape down carefully. He had a platform made for the ape and took him downstream, where they bathed him treated him with oils and balm and tried to ease his pain. The king asked the dying ape why he had sacrificed himself for these monkeys. The ape replied that he was their Lord, they were his subjects, and so he was responsible for their welfare, even if it costs him his life. He said this should be a lesson to the king, who should always put the welfare of his subjects first. Having taught the King this, the great ape died. The saddened King of Varanasi ordered a royal funeral for the great ape, as he was indeed a true king.

COMMENTARY

This story comes from the Jātaka, a collection of 550 stories, honoured in the Buddhist tradition, because they are the accounts of the previous lives of Shakyamuni Buddha. Sometimes he was reborn as a human and sometimes as an animal. Whatever form his rebirth takes, he always demonstrates the Dharma and acts to save and teach all those he encounters, often losing his life in the process, but always showing skill and compassion.

The story concludes with the Buddha explaining the Great Ape was himself in a previous life. The King of Varanasi was Ananda, who was the Buddha’s most devoted follower. The evil monkey who killed the ape was Devadatta, a resentful cousin of Shakyamuni who made several attempts on his life, and tried to disrupt the Sangha, the monastic order of the Buddha. The Jataka began like all early Buddhist texts as orally transmitted accounts, and they are frequently repeated today as orally transmitted moral tales, rather like Aesop’s Fables. In fact, the dominant medium for transmitting Buddhist teachings in traditional Buddhist countries is oral teachings from monks, often in the form of stories and explanations, like the ones in this book.

The Jātaka stories are also moral tales in a deeper sense, in that they vividly demonstrate the operation of karma. In each existence in whatever form he takes, the future Buddha’s pure conduct and frequent acts of selflessness and even self-sacrifice, in order to help and teach other beings, ensure a nobler and spiritually empowered birth next time around. Conversely, Devadatta, the Buddha’s nemesis, who often appears in these stories, becomes progressively more evil and malevolent with each rebirth. This is in accordance with the operation of karma, which I shall discuss in detail below. What the Buddha is demonstrating in the Jātaka stories is a specific knowledge of karma that is only available to specific types of enlightened being. This is called “knowledge of the ownership deeds”. It is the knowledge of his own past lives and the past lives of all other beings, which gives his understanding of karma, such power and authority.

A general knowledge of Buddhist teaching about karma is now quite common in the east and west. A western grasp of the principle of karma could be said to be reflected in the biblical saying, “As you sow, so shall you reap”, except in Buddhism it is laws of cause and effect operating on moral and psychological levels, which underpin the process, not divine intervention.

Because there may be a general sense of the meaning of Buddhist teachings on karma, it is easy to underestimate the impact of the Buddha's innovative reworking of a traditional Brahmanic Hindu concept. This impact is described dramatically in early texts dealing with the Buddha's final stages of attainment and his Enlightenment. In these accounts the fourth higher knowledge (abhiññā) gained by the Buddha is of his own previous lives, and how his wholesome actions give rise to beneficial consequences. This is followed by the fifth higher knowledge, which is the ability to observe the previous lives of all living beings, giving a vivid and direct understanding of the nature of their actions and the attendant consequences (karmavipāka). The sixth higher knowledge consists in the knowledge of the destruction of the influxes (āsava), unwholesome tendencies and mental states, followed by the Buddha's direct experience of the nature of the human condition as suffering or imperfection, its cause, its cessation and the Path to its cessation, the Four Noble Truths.

The Buddha's important contribution to the concept of karma has been to give an ethical and psychological orientation to the Brahmanic ritual teaching. In Brahmanic Hinduism, karma

meant effective ritual action. The emphasis in the Buddha’s teaching is on the determining or volitional intention behind the action, and it is this that produces the seeds and tendencies that affect or determine future states and conditions. In the Buddhist context, the meaning of karma has shifted from ritual act to volitional act or intention. It is about choice or intention. This is reflected in the traditional Buddhist emphasis on the need for controlling and understanding the mind if moral practice and spiritual training are to be cultivated to their higher levels. The emphasis on the psychology of intentions in traditional Buddhist ethical teaching and spiritual practice, should not lead to ignoring the importance of physical behaviour and actual consequences. It would be incorrect to say that the intention or will to perform an unwholesome act, which was not actually carried out, would produce the same effect as the actual performance of such an act. The subtlety of levels of intention and the relationship between intention and behaviour is acknowledged. For example the casual thought, 'I wish X were dead', is certainly unwholesome, and will produce some unfortunate result. But the results would be much more serious in the case of someone who wishes X dead and makes detailed plans for murder. The results would be even graver in the case of someone who raised the initial thought, plans and then actually carries out the murder. The degree of intention or volitional energies (samskara/sankhara) involved in the final scenario, are clearly greater than those involved in the first two.

It is clear that the notion of karma permeates all levels of Buddhist teaching and practice. An understanding that wholesome acts produce beneficial consequences, and unwholesome acts produce negative and harmful ones, greatly facilitates moral conduct. This general understanding of karma is reflected in Thai saying such as, “Do good get goodness, do bad get badness” or “Inflict suffering on others and that suffering will return to you”. These and similar sayings are part of the folk wisdom of Thailand and other Buddhist countries. It should not be thought that karmic consequences only manifest in future lifetimes. In some circumstances, karmic results may manifest with fearful speed. For instance, in the case of three gunmen who rob a store, shooting the storekeeper and two shoppers. They speed off in their car and die seconds later when they crash into a pylon. Most Buddhists would see this as a case of karmic results manifesting instantly. Or as the song says, “Instant karma”.

One obvious question is, how can karma operate as a law of moral responsibility if there is no permanent self? Or even more problematic, how does karma produce effects in subsequent lives? In other words, what is reborn? The answer to these issues goes back to the Buddhist view that the universe is governed by laws of cause and effect, and that these laws operate on subtle, psychological and emotional levels as well as physical or chemical levels. Buddhists regard mental and emotional states and processes as more causally influential than physical states. They are more causally influential, in their effects on human behaviour. While it is true that all conditioned things are impermanent, as we saw in the commentary on the Game of Chess, some conditioned states are longer lasting than others are, and so are their effects. So, powerful emotional, and mental or volitional states, generated and manifested in a person’s life and conduct, are powerful enough to persist, even with the breakup of the physical body. If they are deeply ingrained habitual emotional and motivational patterns, as many of these states are, then they will re-occur from one life to another, these states or processes are called in Buddhism, “re-linking consciousness”. They are not a single entity, certainly not a soul or a permanent static state of consciousness; they are rather processes of consciousness. Just as memory in the Buddhist analysis does not require an unchanging physical body and brain to persist, because the cells making up both regularly die off and are replaced, but our knowledge and skills, memories, emotional states and behavioural habits, all persist throughout our lives, in spite of the huge physical changes. Rebirth, or karma formation across lifetimes, simply posits this same process as surviving the breakup of the physical body. The surface memories are lost

in the traumas of death and rebirth, but the fundamental patterns, emotions and deep psychological drives, often sexually related, persist. No permanent self or soul is required to explain the persistence of “re-linking consciousness”; it is simply a set of processes and drives. Specialised training in meditation and moral discipline, such as that provided by the Buddhist Path, or other spiritual paths, are required. These methods will break the habits and cycles of craving, grasping, selfishness, unwholesome conduct, which give rise to the pain, suffering and disappointment to which we subject ourselves. The good news is that because these experiences are causally conditioned and are of our own making, it is within our power to remove them, by following the Buddhist Path of morality, meditative concentration and wisdom or insight into to the nature of things, which is seeing the Three Marks of Existence as outlines in our first chapter. (For a detailed account of sila, samādhi and paññā, the core elements of the Buddhist Eightfold Path, see P. Harvey 2001, pp 86-90.)

It is clear that a full understanding of the detailed operation of karma and its implications is only available at the highest levels of attainment and practice. It is interesting to note that it is only at this level of practice and attainment, when intentional acts producing harmful consequences are no longer performed, that a full understanding of the nature of the process is achieved. This does not mean that beings at this advanced level no longer act. The teaching career and activities of the Buddha and the Arahants (Worthy/Enlightened Ones) disproves this. It simply means that their acts are of such a quality that they no longer generate fresh tendencies and consequences in performing them.

The Great Ape Jataka story itself requires little explanation, but note a couple of details. The King when he finds the strange fruit has his subjects taste it first to make sure it is not harmful, to him. The royal assumption is that his welfare is paramount. The monkeys, as they walk over their leader’s back, to safety, ask his forgiveness, thus showing appropriate respect and gratitude. The conclusion of the story is the dying ape’s message about how to be a true leader of one’s people. Place the welfare of your subjects first. The story carries an appropriate message for Kings, Presidents and all political leaders. That their role should be about service and sacrifice for their people, not simply the exercise of power, and the assertion of their status through media manipulated events and self-promotion. It is particularly interesting to see the behaviour of world leaders displayed at summits, especially at the time for photo shoot. They jockey for position like runners at the start line in a middle distance race, trying to get “pole” position, which is of course the position nearest the US President.

I am also reminded many years ago when I was junior lecturer at a University. We were to receive a visit from a very eminent Buddhist Abbot and Head of the most prestigious University in his country. As a Buddhist specialist and linguist, I was called upon to be the interpreter and religious and cultural mediator for his meeting with our University Vice-Chancellor (VC).

In a preliminary briefing, our VC was most concerned whether this monk was of sufficient status for an official meeting, and was his role of Vice-Chancellor at the prestigious University in his own country a permanent appointment or a rotating administrative position? The tone and sub text to his questions was, “Is this robed foreign monk representing a strange religion important enough? Is his status comparable to my own? Is he worth my time?” The irony of course was that our VC was in fact only “Acting VC” as the position had not been permanently filled. Naturally, I played to his ego, and informed him correctly that Venerable Abbot was indeed permanent VC of his University, and that his position in the Sangha was the equivalent of the Archbishop of Canterbury, since he was the most senior monk in his country. Nothing more than the truth. Ever the diplomat, I did not point out that the monk in fact outranked our VC by several degrees, several dozen publications, several levels of senior office, and by many miles of

maturity and spiritual insight. I think the vanity and arrogance of the man’s questions made the last great abyss very apparent.

CHAPTER 5 The Cane Drinking Jataka

Deep in the jungle, there was lake that was home to a ferocious water demon. He had magical power, and as soon as any creatures’ lips touched the water of the lake as it stooped to drink, it fell into the power of the water demon, and was quickly eaten.

Also deep in the jungle was a monkey king with thousands of subjects. He was wise and experienced in all the survival skills essential to jungle live. He knew of the dangerous foods and locations in the jungle. He told his subjects that if they found any unfamiliar fruit, they should check with him before eating it. If they wanted to drink at an unfamiliar water hole, they should check with him first. They promised to do so.

One day the monkeys came to the lake of the water demon for the first time. Remembering their King’s words they waited near the lake until he arrived, none of them broke ranks to drink the unfamiliar water. When the Monkey King arrived, he praised the monkeys for waiting. Then he followed the tracks of animals down to the water, and noticed no tracks of the same animals returning. He praises his subjects telling them they did well to wait, for this lake was surely haunted by a dangerous being. The fearsome demon waited in the water and seeing that the monkeys were not coming down to drink, he called out, asking they why they waited, why not come down and drink. The monkey king asked him if he was the demon of the lake who took all creatures who come to drink. The water demon said he was and he would be eating them too, as they had to come down to drink.

The monkey King said they would be drinking, but they would not be coming down to drink and their lips would not touch the water in the lake. He then took a long reed growing near the lake, turned his mind in the ten directions and made a truth act, a powerful statement which on the lips of a great being of wisdom and goodness, has magical effects. On this he blew down the reed, it was rendered hollow with no knots; he took another doing the same. Then he ordered that each reed by the lake should be the same. Then he took a reed and drank the water from the bank high above the bank. The water in the lake never touched his lips. He ordered all the monkeys to take a long reed and do the same. All the monkeys drank their fill, and none could be harmed by the water demon, who left the scene hungry and frustrated.

COMMENTARY

In his explanation, the Buddha tells us that the Monkey King was himself in a previous life. His subjects were the assembly of monks, and the water demon was the malevolent Devadatta.

The “Act of Truth” is a fascinating traditional Indian belief, which states that a spiritually refined and virtuous person can affect magical results by the formal declaration and focus of their spiritual power. In the Hindu epic Ramayana, it was the power that saved Sita, the wife of Rama, when she was being burned after being wrongly accused of infidelity. The flames around her were rendered harmless. One can choose to believe in the power of the “Act of Truth” literally or take it as a symbol of the protective power of great virtue, combined with total mental focus, which generate great protective power. A modern example might be the ritualised walking on hot embers in fire walking ceremonies, or the power of faith healing, common to many religions. Of course, it is possible to see this “Act of Truth” Jātaka story in common sense or rational terms, without reference to magical powers. The water demon could just be a crocodile who grabs anything that comes down to drink. It is perfectly possible to find long hollow reeds around lakes, which can be used as long straws, allowing you to drink but stay clear of the jaws of the croc. But since it is a story, I prefer to leave the magical elements as they are.

Almost as magical is the obedience of the monkeys, and their confidence and trust in their leader, and his total confidence that they will obey him. In addition, his jungle survival skills are impressive, as one would expect of a future Buddha. One becoming the Buddha, though he did not expect blind obedience or pure faith from his followers, but said that they should test everything he teaches in terms of their own experience. Of course with many of the Buddha’s advanced meditation teachings, this may require years of training and practice to truly test the veracity of his words, but the principle still applies, test the teachings for yourself, even if it takes years to do so.

CHAPTER 6 The Blind Men and the Elephant

A king in Northern India was a supporter of pandits and scholars. He grew weary of their constant disputes and arguments about the nature of reality. He had one of his elephants brought to the palace garden and six blind men were brought from the city. He asked each man in turn to feel the elephant and tell him what an elephant was like. The first man felt its head and said an elephant is like a great pot. The second felt its ear and said an elephant is like a winnowing basket. The third felt a tusk and said an elephant is like a ploughshare. The fourth felt its trunk and said an elephant is like a smooth wooden plough. A fifth felt its body and said an elephant is like a big grain bin the sixth man felt the tip of its tail and said an elephant is like a brush.

Each man asserted his opinion and soon they argued about what an elephant is like, then they came to blows. The King said that they were just like the pandits and scholars. Each grasping only part of the truth but certain he has the whole picture.

The Buddha was very aware of the dangers of attachment to strongly held views, and opinions, particularly in the religious, doctrinal and philosophical matters. This is partly because they are forms of attachment and are very egoistic, self-orientated, usually involving a heavy investment of personal pride and self-assertion. It is also because they are invariably incomplete and fail to grasp the whole picture. Finally, religious, doctrinal and philosophical beliefs, views and opinions are just that, opinions. If they are not supported by personal experience then, they are not worth much. He applies this position to Buddhist teachings themselves, insisting that his followers do not slavishly accept what he says, but go out and put his teachings to the test of their own experience. This is because Buddhadharma is not really a teaching in the sense a set of beliefs and doctrines; it is about a set of methods, ways to overcome selfish craving and grasping, and to put an end to suffering. Of course, one can teach a method to some extent descriptively, but until one goes out and applies it for oneself then it is of limited value.

The model used here is that of traditional Indian medical diagnosis. Hence, the Buddha is seen as the great physician who diagnoses the human condition, one of suffering, dissatisfaction and dis-ease. He then examines the causes and finds a prescription for a cure. The cure is following the Buddhist Path of morality, meditative concentration and wisdom or insight into to the nature of things (sila, samādhi and paññā). (These are the core elements of the Buddhist Eightfold Path, see Harvey (ed) 2001, pp 86-90 for a detailed account.) The medical analogy breaks down in one respect, because following the path entails confirming the diagnosis oneself in terms of one’s own experience, and then following the prescription, so in effect you become

your own doctor, as in the saying, “Physician heal thyself.” But of course you have a very good chief physician in the Buddha, to rely on for further medical guidance.

The medical analogy is still useful because it makes the point that Buddhist teachings should really be personal, and not abstract. They should be directed to a specific individual or a group with a common set of problems. Part of the Buddha’s skill as a teacher was that he taught on the level of the individual he was dealing with, and addressed their specific difficulties. The story of Kisagotami in Chapter Two is a perfect illustration of this. Clearly, a different person who is has just suffered a death in their family is not going to be sent out looking for mustard seeds to cure the dead.

The Dharma can be endlessly adapted to teach and help people free themselves from suffering. This is a basic principle of skilful means and all good Buddhist teachers develop this skill. It is also explains why Buddhism is primarily an oral tradition. People may be surprised to hear this since Buddhism has whole libraries of texts and commentaries. But It is an oral tradition in the sense that teaching Dharma is the work primarily of sangha members, and the traditional method of teaching has throughout Buddhist history has been discourses delivered to small groups of people in the temple or the village, or from senior monk or nun to junior on a one to one basis. This is oral teaching, and in it stories such as the ones is this book, feature prominently. (A recent book which illustrates the traditional Buddhist teaching methods in Laos and Thailand is by Thomas McDaniel, “Gathering Leaves and Lifting Words” Silkworm Books, edition 2009/University of Washington 2008.) Also Buddhism is an oral tradition in the sense that many of the duties of monks is Theravada countries such as Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, Sri Lanka, revolve around chanting sutras, prayers and liturgies in groups from memory. This was also how the texts were originally transmitted in the first three centuries after the Buddha’s passing in about 400 BCE.

The story of the Blind Men and the Elephant was used appropriately to counter religious and philosophical dogmatism in many Indian traditions. Different versions of it can be found in Jain teachings, Hindu teachings, Sufi Islamic teachings and Sikh teachings (Wikipedia: Blind Men and an elephant). It is an appropriate response to fundamentalists of any religion, particularly when they are arguing with each other.

It is also the subject of a delightful poem by the American poet John Godfrey Saxe (1816–1887): The Blind men and the Elephant (From Wikisource)

The Blind Men and the Elephant: A Hindu Fable. by John Godfrey Saxe

It was six men of Indostan To learning much inclined, Who went to see the Elephant (Though all of them were blind), That each by observation Might satisfy his mind.

II.

The First approached the Elephant, And happening to fall Against his broad and sturdy side, At once began to bawl: "God bless me!-but the Elephant Is very like a wall!"

III.

The Second, feeling of the tusk, Cried: "Ho!-what have we here So very round and smooth and sharp? To me't is mighty clear This wonder of an Elephant Is very like a spear!"

IV.

The Third approached the animal, And happening to take The squirming trunk within his hands, Thus boldly up and spake: "I see," quoth he, "the Elephant Is very like a snake!"

The Fourth reached out his eager hand, And felt about the knee. "What most this wondrous beast is like Is mighty plain," quoth he; "'Tis clear enough the Elephant Is very like a tree!"

VI.

The Fifth, who chanced to touch the ear, Said: "E'en the blindest man Can tell what this resembles most; Deny the fact who can, This marvel of an Elephant Is very like a fan!"

VII.

The Sixth no sooner had begun About the beast to grope, Than, seizing on the swinging tail That fell within his scope, "I see," quoth he, "the Elephant Is very like a rope!"

VIII.

And so these men of Indostan Disputed loud and long, Each in his own opinion Exceeding stiff and strong, Though each was partly in the right, And all were in the wrong!

MORAL.

So, oft in theologic wars The disputants, I ween, Rail on in utter ignorance Of what each other mean, And prate about an Elephant Not one of them has seen!

This also reminds me of a joke about religious intolerance and fundamentalism, which shows the antithesis of skilfulness and compassion, so it is worth including here.

Religious Tolerance

A man was walking across a bridge one day, when he saw someone standing on the edge, about to jump off. Being a good Christian, he immediately ran over and said, "Stop! Don't do it!"

"Why shouldn't I?" he said.

Our hero said, "Well, there's so much to live for!"

"Like what?"

"Well ... are you religious or atheist?"

"Religious."

"Me too! Are you Christian or Jewish?"

"Christian."

"Me too! Are you Catholic or Protestant?"

"Protestant."

"Me too! Are you Episcopalian or Baptist?"

"Baptist."

"Wow! Me too! Are you Baptist Church of God or Baptist Church of the Lord?"

"Baptist Church of God."

"Me too! Are you Original Baptist Church of God, or are you Reformed Baptist Church of God?"

"Reformed Baptist Church of God."

"Me too! Are you Reformed Baptist Church of God, reformation of 1879, or Reformed Baptist Church of God, reformation of 1915?"

"Reformed Baptist Church of God, reformation of 1915!"

To which our hero said, "Die, heretic scum!" and pushed him off the bridge.

By contrast, unlike this form of fundamentalism, Buddhism (like most Indian-based traditions) tends to be tolerant, and even inclusive. It recognizes that wisdom may come from many sources. I have seen images of Jesus alongside the Bodhisattva of compassion Kuan Yin, in Buddhist shrines in Taiwan. Recognising that wisdom and compassion may come from many sources is a truism but is worth emphasizing in a world beset by religious divisions. As I write, a fundamentalist Church in Florida is planning to burn a Quran on September 11th. It is worth remembering that Jesus was not a Christian, but Jewish, taught the Torah and Talmud by rabbis

in the synagogue. The Buddha was not a Buddhist but a kshatriya prince raised to respect the Vedas and the Brahmanas (Hindu), and was, after he left the palace, a student of advanced yogic meditation and of ascetic disciplines of the religious wanderers, the sramanas, none of whom at that time were “Buddhist”.

I am reminded of a Zen story about a student who visits a great Zen Master; the story is apparently true. The student asks the Master if he has ever read the Christian Bible. The Master says no, and asks him to read some. The student reads from the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7):

6:31 Therefore take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we drink? or, How shall we be clothed?

6:32 (For after all these things do the Gentiles seek:) for your heavenly Father knows that you have need of all these things.

6:33 But seek you first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.

6:34 Take therefore no thought for the next day: for the next day shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.

The Zen Master said, “Whoever said that is an Enlightened Man.”

7:7 Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and you shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you:

7:8 For every one that asks receives; and he that seeks finds; and to him that knocks it shall be opened.

The Zen Master said, “Excellent. Whoever said that is not far from Buddhahood.”

(This story appears in Paul Reps ed. Zen Flesh Zen Bones Charles E Tuttle Co. Inc 1957, Pelican reprint 1971 p30.)

Buddhism is an unusual religion in that it does claim to have a monopoly on truth. When one realizes that the highest attainments of Buddhism, Nirvana or Enlightenment, are beyond speech, then there is little point in being dogmatic about the higher truths of Buddha-dharma. As we have seen, the Buddha teaches that dogmatism and attachment to views are real hindrances to non-attachment and spiritual progress. In the Mahayana tradition of Buddhism, a formal distinction is made between levels of truth. Higher truth cannot be expressed verbally, contained, or envisaged conceptually. So anything which is articulated or verbalised is only to be understood at the provisional or lower level of truth. Making absolute statements about the nature of reality, or framing dogmatic theologies or metaphysics, is misleading and spiritually harmful. The distinction between levels of truth, and the clear notion of Buddhism as a

developmental and pragmatic method, adapted to individual beings at very different level of understanding, rather than a fixed doctrine, is clearly present in the earliest teachings as well as in later Mahayana. It is fundamental to the notion of skilfulness and a hierarchical view of reality and life.

The Buddha’s method of teaching was diagnostic and therapeutic, rather than dogmatic or absolutist. This is clearly apparent in his advice to the Kalamas, who are an educated people who are frequently visited by teachers and mendicants. Each one expounds a different doctrine and criticizes his rivals. The Kalamas ask the Buddha how they can know which teacher is telling the truth and which is expounding falsehoods. The Buddha says they are right to be concerned. He states that the Kalamas should doubt everything that is taught dogmatically and test it within terms of their own experience. The test is actually a pragmatic one; does this teacher demonstrate a life of skilfulness, blamelessness and the removal of greed, hate and ignorance? Do the teachings produce actions and consequences that are praised by the wise? If so the teaching is worthy of acceptance (see: " Kalama Sutta: To the Kalamas" (Anguttara Nikaya 3.65), translated from the Pali by Thanissaro Bhikkhu. Access to Insight, June 8, 2010, http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/an/an03/an03.065.than.html.

Significantly, the Buddha is giving this teaching to a group who are not Buddhist, and he does not restrict what is acceptable as a teaching, only his own Dharma. The pragmatic test he provides is to be applied to all teachings, including his own, which makes quite clear, should not be accepted on trust or on the authority of himself or any other authority or tradition. He also points out in the conclusion to his advice to the Kalamas that the advantages of a purified mind and karmically transformed person are of benefit whether or not there is rebirth in another realm after death. David Loy points out the Buddha’s non-dogmatic approach here, as well as his tolerance of an agnostic position on the reality of rebirth and other realms of existence (Loy in J. Watts ed. 2009 p233). I am not suggesting that the Buddha himself is agnostic on these matters. As we have can see in the stories and explanations of Nanda (Chapter Ten) and Angulimala (Chapter Nineteen) and the Great Ape Jataka (Chapter Four) in this volume, the Buddha’s mastery of absorption (jhāna), mental control and consequent higher knowledge (abhiññā) enables him directly see the correlations between motives, actions and their consequences arising in successive lives of other beings as well as his own. But the point being made by Loy is valid. For the benefit of the Kalamas who are not Buddhists practitioners, but are concerned with issues of truth, and the right way to live; the Buddha provides a pragmatic set of tests and posits a hypothetically agnostic position on the issue of the reality rebirth and other realms of existence. In addition, we should note that the Kalamas, not having access to the higher knowledge states, are not in a position to establish the rebirth and other realms for themselves, so agnosticism it seems is more acceptable than merely taking the Buddha’s word for these on trust. It is very from the conclusion to the Kalama sutta, that the benefits of a purified mind and a karmically transformed person, living harmoniously, are sufficient in this life, whether or not we are also subject to re-birth in future lives or in other realms. This teaching anticipates the ideas of the Roman statesman Cicero (106-43 BCE) and the philosopher, Baruch Spinoza (1632- 177), that virtue is its own reward. The Buddha’s pragmatic and behavioural test also has some similarity that of Jesus, albeit, the latter was said in a very different and more doctrinally restrictive context, when Jesus warns against the claims of false prophets “By their fruits ye shall know them” (Matthew 7 v.15-16).

Given the Buddha’s pragmatic and flexible approach to practice and spiritual development, and lack of reliance on theological dogmatism or theoretical absolutism, then it can be understood why Buddhism as a tradition tended to be tolerant towards other religions and their practice and teachings. Sadly, that tolerance has not always been reciprocated.

Returning to other details of the story of the Blind Men and The Elephant, it should not be thought that this ancient tale is attacking or making fun of the blind or disabled. It should not be seen as offensive. It is rather criticising the spiritually blind and dogmatic pundits and scholars. It is used in the same way as the metaphorical western saying, “like the blind leading the blind”. In the Buddhist view, we are all spiritually blind, unless we are enlightened. Similarly, a Buddhist text states that. “All worldly people are deranged”. In my own case, I am partially spiritually blind and partially literally deaf. As to whether I am also deranged, I shall leave others to judge. I make no similar apology for the joke about religious intolerance, as that is not a disability, but a voluntary condition, based on ignorance.

CHAPTER 7 The Man Wounded by an Arrow, or Questions That Do Not Help Gain Spiritual Release

Once the monk Malunkyaputta arose from his meditation, approached the Buddha, and paid his respects. He sat down and told the Buddha that certain questions had arisen in his mind during his meditation. The questions were:

1. Is the universe eternal or not eternal? 2. Is the universe bounded or boundless? 3. Is the soul the same as the body or separate from the body? 4. Does the Tathagata (The Buddha) exist after death or not exist, or both exist and not exist or neither exist nor not exist?

He goes on to state that if the Buddha can answer these questions he will remain in the Sangha and continue with his practice. But if the Buddha cannot answer them, he will leave.

The Buddha asks him whether he ever called him to join the Sangha and he would explain these questions to him. Malunkyaputta replied that he had not. Then the Buddha asked him did he ever say he would join the Sangha on condition that the Buddha answered these questions. Again, the monk said no. Then the Buddha said that if anyone made answering these questions a condition of joining the sangha, he would die before ever getting answers from him.

He compares the situation to a man gravely wounded by a poisoned arrow. His family bring a surgeon to remove the arrow and treat him. But the man refuses to allow the arrow to be removed until he knows the class of the man who fired it. Is he a kshatriya, a brahmin, a vaishya or a shudra, he refuses to allow the arrow to be removed until he knows if the man was tall or short, fair or dark, the name of his home town or village. He refuses to allow the arrow removed until he knows the kind of wood moved for the bow, and the arrow, the kind of bowstring, the kind of feathers to flight the arrow. In short, the man would be dead before all his questions were answered.

The Buddha continues, telling Malunkyaputta that leading the holy life and putting an end to suffering, ending disease, old age and death, the Path to Nirvana, does not depend on addressing these questions. What he teaches is what is relevant to leading the holy life and putting an end

to suffering, through the removal of its causes, which are selfish craving and grasping, greed, hate and ignorance. That is what his teaching is concerned with, the Path to detachment, tranquillity, full realization, Nirvana, that is what his teaching about. Accepting this response, the monk returns to his meditation.

COMMENTARY

This story does not revolve around philosophical or theological dogmatism, as in the previous story, but around philosophical and theological perplexity. In fact, it is really about priorities. Does the monk Malunkyaputta want answers to his metaphysical dilemmas or does he want to follow the Path to put an end to suffering and dis-ease? Furthermore, he was supposed to meditating when he was really pondering these metaphysical questions. Philosophers may contend, well surely these questions are relevant or at least interesting. The Buddha who is a spiritual physician or teacher and not a philosopher, answers that they are not relevant to the immediate and urgent task of refining the mind and consciousness. This task must be pursued through meditation, to equip the mind to overcome mental tendencies of ego assertion, craving and grasping. One of the problems that arise for all meditators is the tendency to be distracted by wandering thoughts. This is what has happened to Malunkyaputta.

These questions are of a type that inevitably raises more questions, rather than producing answers. For example, is the universe finite or infinite, well that depends on what you mean by universe, what you mean by infinite, and what you mean by time So the debate starts. Twenty years later, you could still be reading Stephen Hawking, trying to get past page 5, or if you are clever, you could be accumulating PhDs in math and astrophysics and still not have the answers, only more and more interesting questions. So on to the next question is it bounded or boundless? The same problem arises. If there is boundary to the universe, from what perspective in time and space do you determine that it is a boundary? Is the soul the same as the body? Well that depends on what you mean by soul. And since the body is impermanent, and constantly changing, and anything which might be regarded as a soul is also impermanent and constantly changing, how could we determine what one is in relation to the other. So, on to the final questions, does an enlightened being like the Buddha survive after death? Well it depends on how you define survive. And the simple answer is, just become enlightened and then you will know one way or another after death, unless the answer is no in which case you will be dead, so the question really is pointless. With all these questions, you could theorise and argue for years and have achieved nothing in terms of removing the very real suffering and dissatisfaction or sense of dis-ease in your life.

The Buddha could be very unforthcoming when confronted with philosophical questions. He knew on meeting a person, what their real problems were, and where their questions were coming from. This is why he could respond differently to the same questions on different occasions. On one occasion, a wandering philosopher named Vacchagota asked the Buddha, “Is there a self?” The Buddha simply refused to answer. When Vacchagotta left, the Buddha explained to the monk Ananda that he did not answer because Vacchagotta was already confused and full of opinions on the issue (Samyutta Nikaya 44.10. Ananda sutta). On another occasion, in discussion with a wanderer called Potthapada, the same question arises and the

Buddha gives him a detailed answer on the reality of no-self (NikayaDigha1.9 Potthapada sutta). The Buddha gives an analysis of the person and our inability to identify any part of the person with a permanent abiding self (see: my explanation of the story Bodhidharma and Emperor Wu, Chapter 22). In fact, the Buddha goes on to discuss in detail the above unanswered questions, explaining to Potthapada why they are not to be answered, because they are not conducive to putting an end to suffering. Potthapada, it seems, was asking genuine questions and looking for a spiritual solution. Vacchagotta was really seeking to confirm his prejudices and pre conceived views.

The Buddha does not give up on Vacchagotta, and a later date he gives him a detailed explanation of no-self and explains how it makes no sense to say that one who is fully liberated either exists or does not exist. It is like asking where a fire has gone when it as gone out. This results in Vacchagotta accepting the Buddha as his teacher,and taking refuge Three treasures of Buddha, Dharma and Sangha (Majjhima Nikaya 2.72 Aggi Vachagotta sutta). Malunkyaputta was already a monk, and was supposed to be meditating and following the Path to find release from suffering. So in one sense the Buddha’s response was simply about reminding Malunkyaputta to do what he was supposed to be doing rather than wasting his time with impossible questions. The immediacy of the problem and the urgency of the required solution for the man wounded by the arrow, Is a reminder by the Buddha that life is short and the problems generated by suffering, craving and grasping, greed, hate and ignorance, are urgent and in need of immediate attention.

CHAPTER 8 Buddhist Science Fiction and an Ecological Message

Two monks from the Brahmin class are on their probationary period, prior to full ordination. After evening meditation they pay their respects to the Buddha and attend him hoping to hear him teach. The Buddha asks them if their Brahman kinsmen criticize them for becoming monks. The Buddha knew they had problems because they were highborn Brahmans, in other words members of the priestly class of literate, ritual experts. Members of their class were condemning them for becoming monks. The Buddha’s sangha does not recognize class and caste distinctions and admits all suitable applicants. The Brahmanic critics were complaining that these Noble ones (Aryas) were lowering themselves and consorting with base, low born types in the Buddha’s Sangha, and were denying their birthright as Noble children of Brahma. Brahma is the creator god who the Brahmins say gave birth to their class. This is a reference to their knowledge of Sanskrit, the sacred ritual language, which conferred on Brahmans much of their power and prestige.

The Buddha pointed out that Brahmins and common people were all born in the same way, and that to be truly arya or noble, one needs to accord with Dharma, and lead a pure, and disciplined life, in which you do not harm or abuse others. Such a life is available to all from whatever class, and can be followed as a monk in the Sangha.

He then tells a story set in the far distant future. He tells of time when the present world is depopulated because the inhabitants have been reborn as radiant beings in the realm of radiance. Here they are incorporeal, self-luminous and travel by flying. After a long period of time they start to descend and be reborn in this world, but retain their radiant and incorporeal qualities. In the meantime, the earth has become nearly all sea, with just a few floating islands, partly made of a delicious earth substance that is like a mixture of butter and honey, but better tasting than you have ever tasted. The lack of land or much food is not a problem for the radiant beings as they do not eat and can fly through the air. They also have no gender differentiation. Seeing and smelling the strange substance, some of these beings taste it and are delighted at its sweetness, so they eat food for the first time. But they enjoy it so much they crave for more and more, and over thousands of years, as they eat, their bodies become more corporeal and solid. Some were more attractive than others were and they despised the less attractive ones and began to shun them. Even more serious he delicious earth substance disappeared as it was eaten by the greedy beings. They wailed and grieved, wondering what they would eat. Then they noticed that the delicious earth was replaced by soil, through which grew strange growths, like mushrooms but sweet tasting. So they feasted on these, and over thousands of years their bodies become more solid and human like.

The physical differences and body types increased and the beings increasingly despised others with different body types, and were vain and proud of their own bodies. Then the sweet mushrooms started to disappear, consumed by the greedy beings. Through the soil shoots like bamboo appeared. They were sweet- tasting so the beings fed on those. As they became more and more physical and vain about their bodies, and ate more and more, the sweet shoots disappeared. Again, they wailed, “Ah, what have we lost”. Then rice plants appeared. But this was fragrant rice which grew in a single day and needed no threshing, as it had no husk. The beings just went out in the morning and evening and ate the rice where they found it. Their bodies became more solid and gender differences emerged. So the males and females started to look lustfully on each other, and soon jealousy and conflict arose. The beings who engaged in sex started to build huts, so that they could have sex in private, and not be blamed for immorality.

Then a lazy being decided it was pointless going out to the forest every morning and evening. Now he had a hut, why not gather enough rice for the whole day and for the next morning. Soon others copied him and then extended the practice so they before long they were gathering and storing rice for eight days supply. But because of this the rice changed to a slow growing crop with husk, so it needed threshing.

Then those beings all gathered and reflected on how they had declined. First from ethereal, flying beings who fed on radiance and then to physical beings feeding on increasingly coarse and solid types of food, and then depleting each type, and becoming more immoral in the process. Now they had reached the point of having to labour to harvest rice and thresh it to remove the husk, and to store rice. So it would be better if they had separate fields in which to grow their own rice, mark them with boundaries, and guard them against theft.

But some of them became greedy and stole other plots of land, so conflicts and fights arose over land ownership. The land thieves were restrained and punished. The beings decided that they needed a strong and trustworthy leader, who shall be in charge of punishments and resolving disputes, and he shall be rewarded with a share of everyone’s rice. This man they called “Lord of the Fields” or Kshatriya, and this is origin of the ruling, warrior class.

Another group, seeing the tendency to theft and evil actions around them, retire to the forest and live in huts and meditate, only emerging in the evening to enter the villages and gather almsfood. These are the meditating Brahmins. Others, who cannot sustain such a meditative life in the forest, live on the edge of towns and villages and become repeaters of the teaching of the forest sages and record these teachings in books. These are the Vedas, the most sacred texts of Hinduism, and the specialist teachers of the texts are the priestly Brahmans. Other people were married and took up various trades. These are the vaishya or traders, and hence that class emerged. Finally, there were those who preferred to live by hunting, or becoming servants, and these became the shudras, the lowest class. Eventually some individuals from each of these classes wish to retire to the forest to meditate as ascetics and lead pure lives. So the beginnings of the non-class based forest ascetic movements, of the type which trained and gave rise to the Enlightened Buddha, concluding with the development and his Sangha, or monastic order, dedicated to following Path and teaching Dharma.

This then is a naturalistic rather than the traditional supernatural Brahmanic account of the origins of the four classes, and the sub classes, as well as an explanation of the origin of the ascetic forest movements, the shramanas, which gave rise to Buddhism. The Buddha points out again that members of all classes are subject to the universal law of karma. Those who perform evil actions will suffer rebirth in realms of purgatory and woe, while those who lead good lives

will be reborn in bright and happy realms. Those whose lives are a mix of good and evil deeds will experience future lives as a mix of happiness and unhappiness. The Buddha concludes the story by saying that those from any class who choose to become monks and overcome greed, hate and ignorance, putting an end to craving and grasping will become Arahants (Worthy Ones), and will achieve the abiding bliss and freedom of Nirvana, and the avoidance of all future rebirths on any level. Such a Worthy One deserves to be called the chief among them because they fully accord with Dharma.

COMMENTARY

This story comes from the Pali Nikāyas, the most authoritative texts of Theravada Buddhism and regarded as the word of the Buddha. The title of the original text is the Aggañña sutta. The reason I call it “science fiction” is that a careful reading reveals that it is set in the distant future. One translator of the text calls it “A Book of Genesis”, which suggests a cosmological tale set in the distant past. This is consistent with being set in the distant future, because in traditional Buddhist and Hindu cosmology the universe exists in vast cyclical patterns, which are in fact repeated in time. The concept of linear time, in fact becomes problematic for two reasons. The first is that just given; so that past events on the cosmic and the human scale are also future events. Also the gods and beings on other levels of existence, operate on a totally different time scale to that on the human and animal realms. We know that the lifespan of some mayfly species is thirty minutes, for others, it is just one day. They exist as a water dwelling larva for a few months, prior to becoming winged insects without mouthparts. They have no time to eat in their short lives on the wing, as they have to reproduce. The lifespan of most butterfly species, including the egg, caterpillar, pupa, and butterfly stages, is only a few weeks. By contrast, traditional Buddhists and Hindus believe that the lifespan of gods and similar celestial beings in the higher heavenly realms is 84,000 aeons. Since an aeon is usually defined as an immeasurably long period time, the apparently precise figure does not really help much. The beings in the lower celestial realms have a lifespan of a mere nine million years. So from the point of view of a being in a higher celestial realm, the being’s life in the lower celestial realm is like a mayfly, and the lifespan of human is like a short term bacteria, gone in seconds.

My point here is that Buddhist and Hindu cosmological and meditational teachings have been developing strange concepts of time, comparable to modern science fiction, or modern astrophysics, for a very long time. It is important to realise that the spiritual and ethical, in other words the karmic implications of these cosmological texts and teachings, is fundamental. Despite the fantastical nature of the realms of existence and how beings function there, Buddhist texts of this type are fundamentally teaching about human responsibilities in this life and to this environment.

One consequence of the idea that time is cyclical and universes arise and then cease, and are multiple, is that there are multiple Buddhas teaching Dharma in this multiple or cyclical universes. Even in the present world cycle in the present universe, there were a series of Buddhas in the distant past. The Buddha prior to the historical Buddha Shakyamuni is called Dipankara Buddha, and he appears in some of the Jātaka stories and is very important in that he confirms the resolve of Sumedha to become a Buddha in the future, Sumedha is the follower of

Dipankara and is reborn as Shakyamuni (see McFarlane in Harvey [ed] 2001, p 182). Not surprisingly, the careers of the previous Buddhas in this series follow a similar pattern to that of Shakyamuni Buddha. There is of course a Buddha to come, his name in Maitreya, and he resides on the Celestial Realm called Tusita, as a Celestial Bodhistattva, and has done so for many millions of years.

In Mahayana Buddhist cosmology, the number of Buddhas is expanded in accordance with the expanded number of Buddha lands or spheres of existence. Clearly each one requires its own Buddha or series of Buddhas, to teach Dharma. Indian Mahayana texts, such as the Vimalakirti nirdesa sutra, now only extant in Chinese and Tibetan, states that there are as many Buddhas as there are sands of the Ganges (see Harvey 2001 ed. 109-117). The science fiction like quality of this and many other Mahayana sutras is even more apparent than in the early Pali suttas. In chapter 10 of the above text, the Bodhisattva Vimalakirti describes a particular Buddha land where the “Fragrance Accumulation Buddha” teaches the Dharma. Here, beings communicate by smell, or chemical signals, think ants and bees. So this Buddha teaches Dharma by dispensing beautiful fragrances. Beings here also gain nutrition by simply smelling food; they don’t need to eat it (Vimalakirti Nirdesa Sutra, ch 10, see trans. Robert Thurman, at http://www2.fodian.net/world/0475_10.html). The science fiction quality of such scenarios is very clear, and the apparently detailed knowledge of other worlds, or at least potential other world is surprising, since the above text dates from around the 3rd Century of the Christian era.

Returning to the levels of existence in the current world or Buddha land, described in Pali texts such as the Aggañña sutta, which were being transmitted by monks memorising and chanting by the 4th century BCE, and which were being written down by the 2nd century BCE. According to these texts, beings are reborn at higher, more refined levels of existence with fewer limitations of gross physical bodies, because they achieved refined mental states during their lives, usually as humans. This usually means that they cultivated their minds through meditation, and trained their minds in the four major stages of absorption meditation called jhāna/dhyāna. Absorption meditation itself is a refined form of deep samādhi, or concentration meditation, such as that achieved by the young man in the story of the Game of Chess. Your familiarity and training with the level of mental absorption will determine which level of refinement your next existence will take. Unless of course you continue with the mental training and master the even more refined formless stages of absorption, and finally course through those and emerge from them. To emerge from these higher meditative states, shows true mastery and non-attachment to the blissful experiences arising from refined absorption. Then you apply your developed focused concentration skill to examining the real nature of existence, or seeing things as they are. This is wisdom or insight, in which you apply focused concentration to realise Three Marks of Existence: suffering, impermanence and no-self (explained in the story The Game of Chess). Then you examine and fully understand the Four Noble Truths, which are:

1. The reality of suffering. 2. Its cause and why it arises. 3. Its cessation which is the extinction of craving, attachment and becoming, in other words Nirvāna, and finally, 4. The Path leading to Nirvāna, which can be summarized as training in morality, meditation and wisdom.

(For a full account of the path and an explanation of Nirvāna, see: Harvey (ed) 2001, pp88-92, pp97-104, and for an table of the detailed correspondence between levels of jhāna absorption and levels of existence, with an explanation by C. Lamb see Harvey (ed) 2001 pp.261

As a skilful teacher, The Buddha is using this science fiction story, or morality tale, to make points about human responsibilities to each other and to the natural world in this current existence. In it, the flourishing of Dharma and the flourishing of humans, other species and the natural world in are directly linked. The basic message is that surrendering to greed, hate and ignorance, have practical, environmental, as well as karmic and spiritual consequences. It is a message about the right action in this life and this realm of existence, not just an entertaining fantasy about other worlds or realms of existence.

It is very clear in the story that the decline and then the ascent of conduct in the realm of humans, depends on their level of accordance with Dharma. Here Dharma has an intentional double meaning of, the specific teachings of the Buddha, in essence the Three Marks of Existence and the Four Noble truths, in other words the teaching which facilitates the overcoming of greed, hate and ignorance. Dharma also means “universal law”, to which conduct should conform to be right and correct. It would be this meaning which would have resonance with the Brahman critics of their Buddhist kinsmen. Of course, in the Buddha’s Dhamma (Dharma), or teaching the most fundamental universal law is the law of karma. The operation of this is illustrated clearly in the story.

On one level, the story is referring to destiny of Buddha dharma, and how the flourishing of Buddhadharma means the flourishing of the beings in the natural world, when they accord with it, and flourishing of the natural world itself. This being the case, living in accordance with Buddhadharma becomes an aspect of the Dharma itself; in other words, living in a way that accords with and reflects a knowledge of the law of karma, as a universal law. So in effect, the Buddha is deliberately conflating the two senses of Dharma. Dharma provides beings with the right way to live. On the down side, the decline of Buddhadharma in this story and the failure to accord with Dharma, and ignoring the law of karma, are directly linked to the increase in suffering both human and animal, and decline in the quality, health and wellbeing of sentient life forms, and of the environment in this realm of existence.

For example in this story from the Aggañña sutta, the non-corporeal existence of the radiant beings is compromised or corrupted because they insist on eating too much of the savoury earth on which they live. The eating of the land on which they live, to the point where no edible land remains, strikes me as a very powerful ecological metaphor. The story describes how the physical and gender differentiation develop, and humans do even more damage to themselves and the earth by overindulging in the mushroom like plants which abound, so these plants are quickly depleted. As human conduct degenerates, more and more sources of food become depleted. Consequently, the increasingly gross and immoral humans resort to storing and eating rice, hence the emergence of differences of wealth and poverty, greed, competition and the eventual blighting of the earth by over production of rice for storage by the greedy. As greater differentiation between ugly and beautiful people emerges, pride, vanity, sexual jealousy and conflict become rampant. As storage of food became the norm, laziness become rife and as food shortages occur, greater envy and inequalities emerge, leading to competition for resources and theft. Increasingly the story sounds more like a commentary on modern life. The difference being that in the sutra, humans realise the self-destructive course they are on, and start to improve morally. They elect a leader to ensure that rules and laws are observed and that food is distributed fairly. They even produce individuals who meditate in the forest and are supported by the rest of society. Civil and religious order are achieved with the emergence of kshatriyas leaders, meditating and teaching Brahmins, and forest ascetics drawn from all classes. In this way order and harmony is restored and Dharma prevails. What occurs here is a restoration of the Dharmic, moral and natural order.

This story clearly indicates that there is a direct correlation between human conduct and the health and flourishing of the natural world. Of course, the processes of nature are constantly changing, but the nature of that change here is crucially determined by the quality or wholesomeness of peoples’ conduct and moral orientation. The story is making a point about the need for Buddhadharma to ensure the flourishing and wellbeing of the human and the natural world. Of course, the story in the Aggañña sutta is a moral fable or fantasy. But to traditional Buddhists it is also the word of the Buddha. There could hardly be a more compelling environmental metaphor, than the image of humans greedily eating, and causing the disappearance of the earth on which they live.

The Aggañña sutta is saying that the flourishing of Buddhadharma can actually re-structure existence. In this text, it is the human response to dharma that makes the difference. The point being made in the text is unequivocally an ethical one and it refers throughout the parable or myth to the destruction of habitats by rapacious humans.

The environmental historian and biologist Jared Diamond provides a fascinating account of the fate of the Polynesian settlers of Easter Island, which in many ways anticipates our present environmental predicament. It also historically enacts the kind of scenario described in the Aggañña sutta. Within two or three hundred years of the Polynesian settlers’ arrival in about 900 CE, Easter Island’s population reached approximately 30,000. Their extensive stone statue building and the wooden runners use to transport the statues, and additional tree felling for cooking, boats and building, led to the almost complete loss of sizable tree cover. There were no longer any trees big enough to build ocean-going canoes, so they were unable to escape to other islands or fish in remote sites, so their diet suffered. The deforestation led to soil erosion and poor crop production. The tribes fought each other and destroyed each other’s ancestral statues, and by the end of the nineteenth century, the Polynesian population numbered just over a hundred weakened and malnourished individuals. Diamond sees this sorry history itself as a powerful metaphor for our own crisis (Jared Diamond, 2005 Ch2)

Following the “norm” of Buddha dharma, which overcomes craving and grasping after physical pleasures, and overcomes competition and greed, also foster cooperation and harmony between different groups and between individuals, and protects the physical environment which we need for our sustenance. In other words the cosmology, or science fiction or virtual future scenarios, are expounded in the interests of demonstrating the moral, spiritual and practical worth of following Buddha dharma. In addition they explicitly undermine the traditional Brahmin assumptions of class based purity and superiority. As much as anything, the fluidity of roles and indeed the fluidity of physical characteristics of humans as they devolve or evolve helps to undermine the notion of fixed immutable class differences. The Buddha is showing that reality and our roles within it are more fluid and impermanent than the Brahmanic class based cosmology and ritual system allows. I regard the Aggañña sutta as primarily a morality tale. Richard Gombrich sees it primarily as parody on Brahmanism and not intended as serious cosmology. He is correct in pointing out that the text parodies and undermines the Brahmin claim to moral and spiritual superiority, partly by presenting an alternative version of the origins of the four classes, to replace the version found in the Vedas and Brahmanas, according to which the class structure was divinely ordained in the act of creating the world and is part of the natural order of the universe (R.F. Gombrich 1996 pp81-83). The Buddha of course rejects this Brahmanic position. Whether taken as serious cosmology or not, the real message of the text is that pursuit of the holy life, under the guidance of Buddhadharma, is more effective in

achieving both spiritual worth, moral purity and human flourishing, than relying on class based Vedic myths and creation stories.

Rupert Gethin has a very interesting discussion of the Aggañña sutta, and relating it to wider issues of meditation and cosmology in the Mahāyāna texts, as well as Pali Buddhism. His paper also connects with the issues raised in Malankyaputta’s Unanswered Questions, as discussed in Chapter 6. It addresses the issue of how the Buddha’s practical refusal to engage with the Unanswered Questions can be consistent with the cosmological and mythological sounding material in the Aggañña sutta. Gethin argues that the two texts are addressing completely different issues. The Unanswered questions of the monk Malankyaputta are treated so by the Buddha because they are wrongly framed and therefore incoherent. They contain unwarranted assumptions by the monk about the “self” and the “world,” which he Buddha rejects. On the other hand, the cosmology discussed in Agganna sutta is supposedly based on the Buddha’s own jhanic (meditation) based experiences, and therefore is not on the same level as speculative questions. Gethin argues that they simply belong to separate areas of concern

(Rupert Gethin “Cosmology and meditation: from the Agganna-Sutta to the Mahayana. Buddhism” in History of Religions, Vol.36 No.3 (Feb 1997) pp.183-217.)

Online at: http://ccbs.ntu.edu.tw/FULLTEXT/JR-EPT/rupert.htm.

I would also add that the different contexts and issues that gave rise to both discourses are important. Particularly when we remember the spiritual pragmatism repeatedly demonstrated by the Buddha. The Unanswered questions and the story of the man with the arrow wound, which the Buddha gives in response, arise from the monk Malankyaputta’s difficulties in meditation. The questions it seems are distracting him and preventing his progress. The Buddha response is designed to gently remind him what he is there in the forest for, to pursue his practice and put an end to craving and suffering. The background and context of the Aggañña sutta discourse is the problem that certain monks who are former Brahmins, are being criticized by some their Brahmin class for following the Buddha, who is in their view a lower class person as he is of the warrior class, and are consorting with other monks of all classes, which is unworthy of Brahmins, who these critics see as essentially purer and superior all other classes. The Buddha’s response is that there are good and bad, pure and impure amongst all the classes. That by following the holy life of harmlessness and practice under the Buddha, these monks are in fact demonstrating the most worthy and purest life possible

“whoever among all these four classes becomes a bhikkhu, an Arahant, one who has destroyed the deadly taints, who has lived the life, has done that which was to be done, has laid down the burden, has attained his own salvation, has destroyed the fetter of rebirth, and has become free because he has perfected knowledge — he is declared chief among them, and that in virtue of a norm (a standard), and not irrespective of a norm. For a norm, Vasettha, is the best among this folk both in this life and in the next (Aggañña sutta, Digha Nikaya 27 verse 7).

It is then that the Buddha tells the extended story of the future and past time, explaining how these differences of class, and feelings of prejudice and superiority come about. Apart from completely undermining all Brahmin, or any class claims to moral, ritual, or spiritual superiority; he also explains that the overcoming of greed hate and ignorance, are not only spiritually superior pursuits but are also important in protecting the environment and natural world which support us.

I generally agree with Gethin that the Buddha is addressing very different problems in the two discourses. It is true that the philosophical issues raised in Malankyaputta’s unanswered

questions are different from the social and ethical issues confronted by the monks in the face of criticism from their Brahmin kinsmen. The Buddha chooses a simple analogy of the man shot by the arrow, to address the first set, and an extended science fiction narrative or myth of origin or “psycho-cosmology” to address the second. I use this term as I find that Gethin’s emphasis on the psychological and meditational implications of much Buddhist cosmology to be very plausible.

There is however some similarity in the Buddha’s way of handling the two sets of issues. His method is intended primarily to return the monks involved to their practice, and to re-enforce the practical orientation of Buddhadharma. The priority for both Malankyaputta and the former Brahmins, is the to pursue their practice, follow the Path and put end to suffering; and not to worry about complex philosophical, cosmological questions or to worry about the ill-founded criticisms of former kinsmen who are deeply prejudiced and too immersed in their own sense of superiority and purity.

The extended science fiction or psycho-cosmological myth of origins or evolution and devolution in the Aggañña sutta, serves to emphasise the importance of Buddha’s understanding of karma, which unwholesome and selfish actions, grounded in craving and grasping, will lead to unpleasant consequences in the future and in subsequent lives. These consequences include the degradation of the very means of support, and the natural resources on which beings depend. The alternative is leading the holy life and engaging in meditation, and so refining one’s mind and actions and attaining jhāna (absorption) and so achieving pleasant consequences in the future and future lives. These pleasant consequences include the flourishing of the natural world and its resources, and the removal of class hatred, social exclusion, greed and individual and group competition, which are so harmful to harmonious existence and flourishing. The fact that the Buddha is offering a strong alternative understanding of karma to the ritual based karma concept of the Brahmins, as well as an ideal of harmony and cooperation based on selflessness, rather than a class based hierarchy of ritual purity and caste exclusion, is clearly intended to directly criticize and expose the Brahmins’ world view as morally and spiritually harmful. The narrative is an indirect critique, but still very effective, and would not be lost on the former Brahmins who were now trying to follow the holy life under the Buddha’s guidance. It was intended to give them more confidence in the face of the criticism and class based hostility, they were receiving from their former kinsmen.

Some might argue that the state of the incorporeal, radiant beings in the story is preferable to the physical humans they become. In the incorporeal and radiant state, beings are godlike and require no food at all. Some scholars have described early Buddhism as a religion of “world weariness”, with no interest in the environment or the preserving of habitats (Harris 1994 p25). Harris sees the flourishing of Buddhadharma as irrelevant to the processes of nature, and argues that early Buddhism demonstrates an “instrumental” ethical approach, in which non- injury is only pursued because it is beneficial to the practitioner. Compassion and kindness are only practised because they will lead to a higher rebirth (Harris in Harvey ed. 2001 pp 252- 254). Unfortunately for Harris’ argument, the Aggañña sutta sees the flourishing of Buddhadharma and flourishing of humans and the natural world, are in fact closely interdependent. It is only instrumental in the sense that ensuring the harmonious cooperation between humans of all classes and social groups, and living without greed and destructiveness, also happen to protect the environment and natural resources, as and support for all beings.

Ian Harris makes a number of interesting observations, which really must be examined by reference to the above material. He cites the Aggañña sutta on the periodic decline and flourishing of the human and natural world, and argues,

“Ultimacy is not located within the natural realm, for the world with its habitants, both human and animal, its forest and vegetation, mountains, and rivers, are subject to an inexorable law of impermanency” (Harris 2000 p123)

However, it is not clear why the non-ultimacy of the natural realm, should militate against showing concern and compassion for it. We actually have very little choice, since it is the realm that all beings and we inhabit. Harris’ statement seems to be making the Eco Buddhist case for them. The realm of suffering and impermanence is exactly the realm in which Buddhas and Bodhisattvas do their work. He continues with some interesting claims,

“Perhaps rather unsurprisingly, Buddhist writers have shown little interest in detailed analysis of the stages of this cycle of degradation of the natural world although the topic of the deterioration of the Buddhist religion and its final disappearance (before the cycle is repeated once again), has provided a regular focus for debate throughout Buddhist history. This seems to suggest that the destiny of the Buddhadharma itself has generally been of far more interest and concern than the fate of nature. Liberation then comes from escape from the bonds that tie us to samsara, not through some fundamental restructuring of existence. In this light the environmentalist agendas of restoration, though well intentioned, misses the fundamental point.” (Harris 2000 p123.)

Whilst I agree fully that the primary Buddhist interest in these stories is the destiny of Buddhadharma itself, it is also a fact that the destiny of Dharma is itself repeatedly linked to the health and flourishing of the natural world. More specifically; the decline of Buddhadharma in these texts and the others, is directly linked to the increase in suffering both human and animal, and decline in the quality, health and wellbeing of sentient life forms. Far from ignoring these texts, Eco Buddhist writers have drawn on them to establish the very connection made here. It seems to be Harris who is missing the fundamental point, that these texts associate the strength of and conformity to Buddhadharma by humans, with the flourishing of human, animal and natural life.

The Aggañña sutta does not reflect a world-weariness and a rejection of the limitations of physical embodiment. In fact, it is in the very much embodied physical state, where beings have real bodies and depend on real food, that the state of greater natural and moral equilibrium is actually achieved. It is in the embodied physical state that Dharma starts to prevail, and groups of monks develop spiritual practices. Also the law of impermanence and change mean that existence in whatever realm or in whatever form, is going to change and will eventually end.

It is only when the beings develop bodies and start to endure physical hardship and when they have to start cultivating and threshing rice that they start to develop morality and spiritual disciplines. This view is entirely consistent with the traditional Tibetan position, that from the point of view of spiritual practice and progress, i.e. Dharma orientation; a human rebirth is preferable to either a god’s or an animal’s. The reason being, that in the animal realm, suffering is too overpowering for most animals, so they have few opportunities to develop morally and spiritually. In the god’s existence, life is too easy and lacking in sufficient incentive to develop morally and spiritually. The human existence has a sufficient blend of suffering and satisfaction, even bliss, so that the incentive to progress is provided by both. Human existence with its attendant suffering, pain, and joys, times of tranquillity and moments of bliss, provides a correct combination of the stick and the carrot to make beings want to improve themselves morally and spiritually. That is fundamentally what this amazing science fiction or morality tale from the Aggañña sutta is all about.

CHAPTER 9 Respect Your Teacher

Once upon a time, there was a poor young man who wandered from city to city in Thailand, begging and doing casual work. One day as he left small town with a bit of food in his pack, he met an old crippled beggar who asked him for food and water. The young man gave him some and prepared to go on his way. The old man took his hand, saying, “Since you have been kind to me and shared your food even though you have little, I shall return the favour and teach you a powerful magical utterance. Learn it well and it may help you one day.

The old man teaches the youth his spell in Pali (the language of the Theravada Buddhist texts) and tells him that after chanting it he must blow over a bowl of water and pour the water over the root of a tree. The spell will cause the tree to produce any fruit he desires out of season. However, the young man had to agree to respect his teacher throughout his life or the spell would lose its power. The young man agreed and paid his respects to his teacher and went on his way.

Later he came to a great city on the plain and heard a palace guard announcing that the Queen of Sukothai was pregnant and craved mangoes. If anyone could provide mangoes out of season for the Queen, they would be richly rewarded.

The young man hurried to the palace and told the guards that he could produce mangoes for the Queen by morning. He called for a bowl of water, chanted his Pali spell and blow over the water. Then he poured the water onto the roots of a mango tree, in the palace gardens, and told everyone to return next morning.

In the morning, the tree was laden with delicious ripe mangoes. The Queen was delighted. She lavished gifts on the young man and the king invited him to settle in a comfortable house near the palace. The young man was rich and successful and greatly enjoyed his new settled life as a palace celebrity. One day the King asked him where he learned his magical skill.

Too embarrassed to tell the King of a crippled old beggar, the young man said he studied with a great rishi, a holy sage deep in the forest.

A few days later, the Queen again craved mangoes. The young man was sent for and he performed his ritual. But the next morning the tree was bare. The King and Queen were angry, demanding to know why he had failed. The shamefaced and terrified young man confessed that he had lied about his true teacher, so the spell was broken. The king said he was a disgrace. For disowning and failing to honour his teacher he would lose all his possessions and be banished from the city. The young man left the city in rags and returned to wandering in poverty. He was full of remorse for failing to honour the person who had taught him a way out of poverty.

COMMENTARY

Respect for parents and for the family are central to Confucian social teachings, as well as to Buddhism. This respect is therefore central to East Asian societies where Confucian values have had a profound influence. This certainly applies to Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, Vietnam, Korea, Japan and to the Chinese communities of Malaysia, Indonesia and Singapore. Confucianism says that it is in the family where ethical behaviour and respect are nurtured and then extended out into the rest of society. In Chinese society and societies influenced by Confucian social teachings, establishing harmonious social relationships usually based on reciprocity and mutual support (guanxi) form the bond that binds communities and society together. Often this rests on establishing family type connections or fictive kinship relationships. An example would be calling older males “uncle” or women “auntie”. It may use the fact that people have as similar sounding surname, or are known to other members of the family.

After parents and one’s King, Emperor or Ruler, the next persons worthy of respect and honour in Asian societies are ones’ teachers. Skills, trades and crafts in East Asia, including martial arts, were traditionally taught within family lineages. The art and skill was passed down from father to son or uncle to nephew. Many of these themes are present in the recent “Karate Kid” movie set in China. His father taught Mr Han, the Jackie Chan character, martial arts. He then becomes a father figure and teacher (shr fu) to the fatherless American kid. Like the original Karate Kid movie, the movie is as much about the relationship of the fatherless kid with his father figure, the humble caretaker/janitor, (Mr Miyagi in the 1980’s movie or Mr Han in the 2010 version) who become the teacher and father figure (shr fu/sensei) to the kid. Both Karate Kid movies could be seen as accounts of what makes a true teacher (shr fu/sensei). This of course is a deeply Confucian and a Buddhist message.

Near the movie’s ending, after the kid wins the tournament, the students of the brutal and corrupt kung fu (gong fu) teacher realise that Mr Han is a true shr fu. They applaud the kid whom they had previously bullied. Then they all make the formal Kung fu salute to show respect to Mr Han. This confirms Mr Han’s earlier comment that there is no such thing as a bad student, only a bad teacher.

Here is another story of two young men who had to learn the hard way to respect the elderly and to respect teachers. In a poor district of Bangkok lives old man, originally from Fujian in southern China. He has lived in Bangkok most of his life and learned Hokkien White Crane Boxing and (chin na) locks and throws from his father. He works as a humble vegetable cutter and cleaner in the market. One evening he is trudging home with two bags of vegetables. Two street toughs, probably speed (yaba) users, decide he is an easy victim, and follow this frail looking old man into an alley. They pull out knives, and rush him, he instantly drops his bags, and delivers a pinpoint low kick to one attacker, who collapses in agony with a damaged kneecap, and the other is disarmed with a wristlock and is thrown to the ground screaming in pain. The old man picks up their knives and says,

“I’d better keep these to cut up my vegetables; you boys might hurt yourselves with them.”

So sometimes, just like in the song, there really is instant karma or at least instant retribution. This incident also reflects what can happen if the old are not respected. The martial arts master, teaches the young knife-wielding thugs a lesson in respect, and shows them not to assume that the old are weak and useless.

CHAPTER 10 Nanda and the Heavenly Maidens

The monk Nanda is struggling with his meditation because he misses his beautiful fiancée who is Shakya princess. He is so distracted that he is preparing to leave the Sangha. His feelings are perhaps understandable, because the Buddha called him to the Holy Life during his wedding. To strengthen the young monk’s resolve the Buddha mentally transport him up to a heavenly realm, filled with millions of heavenly maidens. Nanda is dazzled by their beauty and thinks his wife resembles a wretched monkey by comparison. He asks the Buddha how he can return to this realm and win the heavenly maidens, the Buddha assures him that by pursuing his meditation he can attain this heavenly realm. Nanda returns to his training with extra vigour. Later as he progresses in his meditation he abandons his desire to enter the heavenly realm to win the maidens, partly because the senior monks told him it was unseemly to pursue jhāna meditation for such a gross reason. Nanda makes more progress and eventually he becomes an Arahant, a Worthy One, who has attained Nirvana.

COMMENTARY

In the story about questions which do not help gain spiritual release, (Chapter7) we saw how Malunkyaputta’s problem was a universal one for meditators; it is the tendency to be distracted by wandering thoughts. The monk Nanda, also experienced a common problem for meditators, being distracted by emotional states, particularly those related to attraction and sexual desire. The conventional Buddhist method of dealing with this is the meditations on death, a series of meditations involving the visualization by the meditator of the phases of death and decay of their own body. Here the Buddha uses a different solution. He knows Nanda well, in fact, they are cousins. He knows Nanda’s longing and attachment to his princess is acute because, the Buddha called Nanda to the holy life just after his wedding. Because of these factors, the Buddha’s solution is radical. By taking him up to a realm of existence that corresponds with higher meditation state, The Buddha skilfully manipulates the situation so the Nanda sets one level of desire against another, and the higher level of desire, for the heavenly maidens is the one that requires the pursuit of his meditation.

Nanda then returns to his practice with great vigour. Having achieved the level of course, he realizes that the nature of the practice and the goal of Buddhism is not to access heavenly

realms and disport with heavenly maidens. Reinforced by the shame sanction of the elder monks, he ignores the possibility of heavenly maidens and progresses further in his practice. The skilful principle being used here by the Buddha is using a thorn to take out a thorn. Clearly, it is no more a part of Dharma practice for Nanda to be lusting after heavenly maidens, than was his lusting after his wife. But the trick works in disengaging him from his lower level of lust. The higher one evaporates as his practice deepens and he experiences the blissful levels of the jhāna states.

We saw in the chapter on Buddhist Science fiction that the early texts, state that beings are reborn at higher, more refined levels of existence with fewer limitations of gross physical bodies, because they achieved refined mental states during their lives, usually as humans. This usually means that they cultivated their minds through meditation, and trained their minds in the four major stages of absorption meditation called jhāna/dhyāna. Absorption meditation itself is a refined form of deep samādhi, or concentration meditation, such as that achieved by the young man in the story of the Game of Chess (Chapter 1). Your familiarity and training with the level of mental absorption will determine which level of refinement your next existence will take. Unless you do as Nanda did and continue with the mental training and master the even more refined formless stages of absorption, and finally course through those and emerge from them. To emerge from these higher meditative states, shows true mastery and non-attachment to the blissful experiences arising from refined absorption. So jhāna meditation involves increasingly refined states of bliss, as higher states of absorption are achieved. But the objective is not to linger in and enjoy these refined states of bliss, or be reborn in their corresponding refined heavenly levels of existence. The objective is to learn how to know these states and then move on. It is to be detached from them, however blissful they are to experience. The process is to progressively train and refine the mind, so it can deal with more and more refined mental states and then abandon them for higher levels.

To emerge from these higher meditative states, shows true mastery and non-attachment to the blissful experiences arising from refined absorption. Then you apply your developed focused concentration skill to examining the real nature of existence, or seeing things as they are. This is wisdom or insight, in which you apply focused concentration to realise Three Marks of Existence: suffering, impermanence and no-self (explained in the story The Game of Chess). Then you examine and fully understand the Four Noble Truths, which are:

1) The reality of suffering. 2) Its cause and why it arises, 3) Its cessation which is the extinction of craving, attachment and becoming, in other words Nirvāna, and finally, 4) The Path leading to Nirvāna, which can be summarized as training in morality, meditation and wisdom. This is exactly the Path followed by the monk Nanda, and he eventually achieves the goal, Nirvāna.

CHAPTER 11 Diamond Cuts Diamond, or the Taste of Curry and the Value of Money

A poor man was walking to a distant city to visit a sick relative. It was a full day’s walk, so the man’s wife had given a lump of rice in a basket to eat on the way. They were too poor to afford anything to go with the rice, not even soup.

As he walked near the house of a rich man, he smelled the delicious aroma of curry. The rich man’s maid was cooking curry in the kitchen. The poor man was so hungry he sat down under a tree near the house to eat his plain rice. As he ate, the delicious aroma of curry was all around him and it seemed to flavour his rice. It was the tastiest meal he had ever eaten.

After finishing the rice, he went to kitchen door to ask the maid for a drink of water. As she kindly handed him the beaker of water, he praised her cooking, telling her that her curry aroma had flavoured his rice and made it the best meal he had ever eaten. He politely thanked the maid and took his leave. She was very pleased by his words.

The maid then took the curry to serve to her master. The millionaire tasted it and pulled a face, saying it was bland and tasteless. The maid was shocked and also afraid of losing her job. She quickly said that a poor man, who ate his rice nearby, just as she had finished cooking the curry, must have taken the taste.

The millionaire was a mean and greedy man. He ordered his servants to catch the man who had stolen the flavour of his curry. They brought the terrified man before the millionaire, who immediately accused him of stealing his curry’s flavour. He also demanded payment for this act of theft. The poor man was bewildered and answered that while he must have accidentally taken the curry’s flavour, it was not intentional theft. As for compensation, the only money he had was a tiny coin. He needed this to complete his journey and buy medicine for his sick relative.

The millionaire wanted the coin so he brought the man before the village chief and told the whole story. The chief said it was an unusual and serious case. He called for a bowl a bowl of water to be brought, and told the poor man to put his tiny coin in the water. The man poor obeyed, and the millionaire eagerly looked on thinking the coin would soon be his. He thanked the village chief for his wise judgment and reached out to the bowl to take the coin. But the village chief pulled the bowl away and told the poor man to take his coin back. He told the millionaire he could only take the water in the bowl, this now had taken on the value of the poor

man’s coin, just as the poor man’s rice had taken on the flavour of the millionaire’s curry. He was to take the water only. The coin belonged to the poor man and the bowl belonged to the wise village chief. The greedy millionaire’s face turned pale and he left in disgust.

COMMENTARY

This delightful Thai folktale reflects village wisdom and justice as well as reflecting the Thai interest in flavours and food. It shows that even in a highly stratified society, with a wide gulf between rich and poor, the poor can sometimes get justice. It simply requires someone with sufficient wisdom, strength of character and sense of justice to be on hand and prepared to act. I have heard and read different versions of this tale. In the oral version, told by an old monk in northeast Thailand, the arbiter of justice was the senior monk in the local temple, rather than the village chief. The mark of the really poor in Thailand and all over Southeast Asia is that they only have plain rice to eat. The assumption is that every meal will be accompanied by rice, but it is very unfortunate if there is only rice. The assumption that rice should be part of every meal is reflected in the common verbs for eating and cooking in everyday Thai. “Eat” in colloquial Thai is kin kao (literally, “eat rice”). The everyday Thai word for “cooking” or “to cook”, is the verb phrase “tam kab kao”, or literally “make with rice”. So the frequent question to the cook, or the maid in wealthier families, or to the wife, or in my family, to me, when it is my turn to cook is, “what are you making with the rice?” (tam arai kab kao). My frequent answer, partly inspired by this story, and partly because I love curries, is: Thai green vegetarian curry or massaman vegetarian curry; though I have to say it in Thai. The latter is my veggie version of the Thai adaptation of Malay curry. The “massaman” means “Muslim”, and of course, Malay curry recipes are based on curries from India. Having said that, Thai curries have a completely different flavour to Malay and Indian curries. This is due to the kind of coconut milk used and the strength of Thai red and green chillies. At this point, despite my name, Anglo-Celtic roots and white skin, when I am in the kitchen or talking about food, you can clearly establish that I have turned into a Thai.

CHAPTER 12 The Exorcist

This story is from Ajahn Brahm about his teacher Ajahn Chah, who was one of the most respected forest monks in Thailand. One day the village headman hurried to see Ajahn Chah in his hut. He said that the villages were bringing a woman who had become possessed by evil spirits the previous evening. She was going crazy and the villagers could do nothing for her. As he spoke, a loud screaming could be heard as the woman was being dragged through the forest hermitage screaming obscenities. As the group approached the Ajahn’s hut, he told his novices to quickly start boiling lots of water, and to start digging a big hole. Neither the villages nor the monks knew what he was planning, but he told them to dig faster and get more boiling water. The villages were restraining the screaming woman who was now foaming at the mouth and spitting. Above her noise, Ajahn Chah shouted, “Is that hole finished yet? Hurry, bring the boiling water. The only solution is to throw her in the hole, pour the boiling water on her and bury her. It is the only way to remove these evil spirits”

The villages were perplexed, but no one was going to disobey the great teacher in his own monastery; so they started to carry her towards the hole. She immediately grew calm and stopped screaming and struggling. Within seconds, she was peacefully kneeling before the Ajahn receiving his blessing, and within minutes, she was led home by the villagers, no worse for her experience.

COMMENTARY

States of possession or temporary madness are quite common is Southeast Asia. Buddhist monks are often called on to help the victims, by exorcism rituals based around chanting Pali formulas, usually splashing the victims with blessing water, not boiling water. Some monks specialize in the exorcism, healing rituals. Ajahn Chah’s radical display was as a shock tactic designed to break through the woman’s confused mental state. He knew that even in this confused or possessed state, the human instinct for self-preservation is very powerful. The apparent threat to her life and the prospect of a very unpleasant end served to awaken that instinct. His skilful means along with his subtle understanding of the human mind, and his compassion, are very clear in this incident. Of course, in reality the teacher would have never caused real harm to the woman. His shock tactics do show us that, as in the story of the Game of Chess, a skilful teacher’s compassionate action is not always gentle and mild, and not always obviously compassionate and skilful, even when skilfulness and compassion are at its very core.

CHAPTER 13 The Prodigal Son

A son becomes estranged from his father and declines into a life of vagrancy and poverty. Many years later, the father recognizes his son, but the son has become so impoverished and lacking in self-esteem that he fails to recognize his now wealthy father. He is terrified of this great man in a carriage, with a retinue of servants and retainers, and he runs away. His experience as a beggar has taught him to avoid the rich and powerful. The rich man sends servants to trace his son. Knowing a direct approach would damage their relationship and trouble the son, he takes a subtle and indirect approach. He sends two shabbily dressed foremen to hire the son as a lowly day labourer. Then over a period of years, the father wins the young man’s confidence and promotes him. He gives him increasing responsibility and positions of trust on his staff. He watches him grow in ability and sees him develop good judgment and social skills in dealing with the wealthy and the privileged, and increasingly treats the young man as his son. Just before the father dies, he reveals the son’s real identity and he presents him with his complete inheritance.

COMMENTARY

A story of change and the vicissitudes of life, this tale of skilful means is a model for how enlightened Buddhist teachers including the Buddha himself will use gradual and indirect methods to disclose the reality of things as they are. When people are ready to understand and accept them. The story is from the Lotus Sutra, the core text of Mahāyāna (Great Vehicle) Buddhism, dedicated to the spiritual power of compassion and the effectiveness of Skilful Means. In the story, the Buddhas compassion is directly compared to the compassion of the father. The act of concealing his true identity is justified, because it arises from his compassion and love for his son. This is fundamental to the Mahāyāna Buddhist teaching of Skilful Means and is implicit in all forms of Buddhism. Subtlety, concealment and even not telling the whole truth are justified if the motivation is correct and the person using this method is sufficiently developed spiritually to use it wisely and compassionately. It is not a blanket dispensation to tell lies out of convenience or to pursue unworthy and unskilful ends. In the Mahāyāna sūtras and Zen texts, the exemplars of Skilful Means are always advanced teachers, Bodhisattvas or Buddhas.

The father’s skill in winning the son’s confidence is compared to the Buddha’s skill in teaching people at a level they can understand and apply. Not disclosing teachings they cannot understand or deal with. The Buddha is described as the Father of the World and all beings as

his children. The great treasure, which is the young man’s inheritance, is compared to the great treasure of Buddha wisdom, the Supreme Enlightenment, which is the spiritual goal of Mahāyāna Buddhism. The day wages that the young man received before are compared to the goal of Nirvana, as taught in Hinayāna (Lesser Vehicle) Buddhism. The Lotus Sutra states that this provisional goal was taught in the earlier forms of Buddhism until the Supreme Enlightenment as taught by the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, was within the comprehension of beings trained in the way to Nirvāna. Now that they were sufficiently spiritually developed, the teaching of Buddha Wisdom and goal of Supreme Enlightenment could be revealed. The Lotus Sūtra dates from around the first century BCE in India, and was translated into Chinese, Tibetan, Mongolian and Central Asian languages, as Mahāyāna Buddhism spread into all these regions. Certain chapters of the Lotus Sūtra are chanted in most Chinese and Japanese Temples on a daily basis. It contains many valuable stories and explanations of the power of Compassion and the effectiveness of Skilful Means.

CHAPTER 14 The Tea Master and the Samurai

An arrogant samurai visited a tea master who requested the tea ceremony. The tea master agreed and asked the samurai to leave his sword in the entrance porch, in respect to the peaceful ritual of the sword ceremony. The samurai proudly refused, saying, “I am a warrior, from many generations of warriors. I always carry my sword.” The tea master insisted that the samurai honour the ceremony, the samurai refused and become so angry he challenged the tea master to a duel in a week’s time. Unable to lose honour and show fear, the tea master accepted, reflecting, “In a week’s time I shall surely die”. He had never touched a sword in his life. Wanting to die well, the tea master visited his friend who was a sword-master and asked him to lend him a sword and teach him how to draw the sword and hold it in the ready stance. He trained these opening moves for a week. On the morning of the duel, he meditated and made his last bowl of tea. The samurai arrived and the duellists prepared. The tea master was completely composed and resigned to his certain death. He calmly drew his sword and stood in the ready stance. Seeing his opponent’s calm manner and composed skill, it was the samurai who was having doubts. He paused and then bowed to the tea master and apologized. “Forgive me sensei. I can see from your immovable stance and your skill in drawing the sword, that you are a great sword master.” With those words, the chastened samurai left the scene in a hurry.

COMMENTARY

In the face of death, the tea master was demonstrating “no-mind” (mushin) of a very high order. No-mind is the Zen Buddhist term for focused awareness free from intrusive thoughts and distracting emotions. It was the state achieved by the young nobleman in the opening story of The Game of Chess. In the case of the tea-master his state of no-mind was develop to such a high level that it manifested “immovable mind” (fudoshin). His stance was solid and yet flexible and appeared ready to respond. His mind was concentrated and attentive, but also flowing and flexible, not fixed on or attached to anything. Not on his opponent’s move’s not on the thought that he was soon going to die, and certainly not on any sense of fear. Where did the tea master’s, lack of fear, his mental skill and impeccable technique come from? From his many years training and experience in the tea ceremony, which is a traditional Japanese form of highly ritualised meditation. He had brought the same attitude of mind to his week of training in drawing the

sword and assuming the ready stance. The fundamental skills and attitude of mind are transferable.

Tea Ceremony and Japanese sword training, including duelling, are forms of “deep play”. The anthropologist Clifford Geertz used the term, ‘deep play’ to refer activities in traditional cultures which are ritually embedded, highly complex, and involve a personal investment which was often so high as to make participation irrational. The Game of Chess in our opening story is an excellent example of “deep play”. The point about ‘deep play’ activities is that they create opportunities for heightened experience, flow, exhilaration or even transcendence. They often contribute to the shaping of a new personality. They provide opportunities for social cohesion and group bonding, while at the same time produce moods and experiences that are intrinsically rewarding.

The American psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi has extensively researched ‘deep play’ activities and the states they induce, and the benefits they offer to individuals. He has identified the characteristics of ‘play’ activities such as sports, martial arts, creative activities in arts, science and technology. All of which, when pursued with focused attention, and high order skill, can produce states of tranquillity, heightened awareness, and absorption. He describes these states as ‘Flow’, and which often lead to what he calls ‘Optimal Experience’. In Zen terms these states are called “flowing awareness and no mind”, and in the higher stages of mental refinement they lead to “immovable mind” (fudoshin). These were the states attained by the tea master in the duel, and the young nobleman in his game of chess.

Since the 1970s, Csikszentmihalyi has studied cases of the kinds of activities that facilitate Flow and Optimal Experience; and catalogued the reported experiences of hundreds of participants. While initially his research was concerned with classifying types of deep play experience, his long-term project is therapeutic. He wants to establish what it is that makes play such a liberating and rewarding activity, in order to apply this knowledge to other areas of life.

Csikszentmihalyi and his co-researchers have documented the cases of heightened awareness and flow states reported by athlete, sports people and others. Many of their most striking findings occur in the reports of rock climbers, chess players and ocean going yachtsmen and surfers. Often the flow experience occurs in sport and activities, which are dangerous and involve risk taking. Other cases of flow occur in more peaceful and sedate contexts, such as gardening, dancing, playing chess, painting or playing music. It is interesting to note the number of reports of flow and optimal experience in activities that are associated with a purely recreational function, i.e. you climb or sail or surf just for the hell of it. As such, these are classic deep play activities in that they are useless as well as dangerous, from a utilitarian point of view. The following account reported to Csikszentmihalyi is quite typical of the accounts by climbers.

The mystique of climbing is climbing: you get to the top of a rock glad it’s over but really wish it could it could go on forever. The justification of climbing is climbing, as the justification of poetry is writing; you don’t conquer anything except yourself… The act of writing justifies poetry. Climbing is the same: recognising that you are in flow. The purpose of the flow is to keep on flowing, not looking for a peak or utopia but staying with the flow. It is not a moving up but a continuous flowing; you move up only to keep the flow going. There is no possible reason for climbing except the climbing itself; it is self-communication. (Reported in: Csikszentmihalyi 1992 p 180.)

In the same work Csikszentmihalyi reports the experience of a dance teacher and the joyful expression of bodily harmony she exemplifies in teaching the complex skills of her craft to

students (1992 p178) Another report from the climber and writer D. Robinson again illustrates the flow state derived from the deep play activity of climbing,

You get so immersed in the rock, the moves, the proper position of the body, that you’d lose consciousness of your identity and melt into the rock and the others you’re climbing with… you are not quite sure whether you are moving or the rock is…

You are climbing yourself as much as the rock… If you’re flowing with the something, it’s totally still… Lack of self-awareness is totally self-aware to me.

(Reported in Csikszentmihalyi 1992 p 185.)

In the same chapter, he lists the characteristic features of the flow experience.

All of these can be identified with the experiences of many martial arts practitioners and meditators.

1. Clear goals: an objective is distinctly defined; immediate feedback: one knows instantly how well one is doing. 2. The opportunities for acting decisively are relatively high, and they are matched by one’s perceived ability to act. In other words, personal skills are well suited to give challenges. 3. Action and awareness merge; one pointedness of mind. 4. Concentration on the task at hand; irrelevant stimuli disappear from consciousness, worries and concerns are temporarily suspended. 5. A sense of potential control. 6. Loss of self-consciousness, transcendence of ego boundaries, a sense of growth and being part of some greater entity. 7. Altered sense of time, which usually seems to pass faster. 8. Experience becomes autotelic: If several of the previous conditions are present, what one does becomes autotelic, or worth doing for its own sake.

(Csikszentmihalyi 1992 pp 178-179.)

As we have seen, Csikszentmihalyi identifies the key to the occurrence of flow and optimal experience is that they are “autotelic” (literally: self-goal) which he defines as, “…a self- contained activity, one which is done not with the expectation of some future benefit, but simply because the doing itself is the reward.” (2002, p67.) I discuss these themes specifically in relation to training in a Chinese martial art and moving meditation system, in my book: T’ai Chi for Life, Health and Fitness (Mowbray Publishing, www.taichi-exercises.com).

This notion of incidental benefits or by products of disciplined focussed activity, and particularly the notion of non-goal directedness, is one, which is highly developed, in eastern spiritual traditions and practices. It directly relates to the nature of the flow state and heightened level of awareness of Optimal Experience. It is the aspect of these teachings, practices and skill which western minds have most difficulty in understanding. It produces the paradox of effort or, trying without trying. How do you follow a way (Tao) without being

attached to the destination? How do you assiduously practise and train without being attached to the goal of practise? The simple answer is, just practise, and forget about the goal. In other words ‘just play’ practice for its own sake. Remember that to be in flow is to be fluid, and not distracted by things, including fear, tension or ambition. So to maintain flow and fluidity you need to remain focussed and attentive, and not attached or distracted. This message of non-goal directedness or non-attached action, developed and applied carefully, goes to the very core of many eastern spiritual teachings. It is what Confucius and his followers understood as true ritual propriety and following the way of Heaven, and the Taoists understood as naturalness, spontaneity and non-doing wu wei or non-volitional action, and is what the Bhagavad-Gita (Hindu text) understands as acting but renouncing the fruits of actions (nishkama karma yoga) and the Zen Buddhists understood at “letting go of body and mind” and the traditional Buddhists taught as simple non-attachment.

The Tea Master was unattached and undisturbed, even at the prospect of his imminent death. He simply focused on the task in hand, which was drawing his sword and assuming the reading stance. That was whole concern. It was his focus and his non-attachment and total absence of ego that saved him. He demonstrated all the skills of an advanced sword master, as well as the skills of an advanced tea master. He had in effect, mastered his life.

Structurally and morally, this story closely resembles the basic storyline of the Karate Kid movies; especially the recent one starring Jackie Chan and Jaden Smith. It is set in Beijing, where bullying Chinese kung fu students are picking on the American new boy Jaden Smith.

An old caretaker, Mr Han, who is a Master of Chinese Martial Arts, helps the kid by intervening when the bullying gets out of hand. He then takes the kid to the Kung Fu teacher’s school to ask him to stop his students bullying. But the Kung Fu teacher is himself an arrogant and cruel bully. Mr Han accepts the challenge thrown down by the teacher, let the kid compete in the forthcoming martial arts tournament, to prove his himself. Mr Han agrees, on condition that the bullying is suspended, so the kid can train. Unfortunately, the American kid knows no martial arts. Just as the tea master knew nothing about sword skills. Undeterred, Mr Han agrees to train the kid for the tournament. Despite this, the kid is convinced he will be beaten thoroughly in his first and last tournament fight. Mr Han says, “Win or lose, It doesn’t matter.” He says that if the kid fights well in the tournament, even if he loses, he will gain respect and the bullies will leave him alone. Mr Han repeatedly forces the kid to focus on the training itself, and not on whether he will win or lose in the tournament, or even whether he will get respect and end the bullying. In other words, the kid must train with non-attachment, and be resigned to his fate. Just like the tea master. He must, above all be focused. When he protests to Mr Han that he is focused, his teacher replies, “Your focus needs more focus.”

CHAPTER 15 A Tea Master Disarms an Assassin

This story starts with a similar scenario to the previous one, but the Master resolves the situation quite a different manner. A Japanese Lord studied tea ceremony with the Kyoto’s most respected tea master. One of the Lord’s samurai retainers felt that he was spending too much time on the ceremony and not enough on his political duties, and that the tea ceremony was making him weak, and damaging his strategic and political effectiveness. He decided to kill the tea master to resolve the situation.

The samurai pretended to be calling to take tea with the master, who immediately read the man’s intention. The master welcomed him and bid him leave his sword at the entrance porch. The samurai insisted that his sword went with him. The master agreed and bid him enter. He placed the water pot on the charcoal to boil, as the samurai placed his sword on the mat and kneeled in readiness for the ceremony. Suddenly the tea master knocked over the brazier, spilling boiling water and ashes everywhere, and filling the room with steam and smoke. The samurai ran out in panic, afraid of being burnt. The tea master calmly followed him, offering apologies and saying, “It’s OK now Sir, it was my mistake. See, here is your sword, it has ash and water all over it, but I’ll give a good clean and it will be good as new, then we can have some tea”. Realising that the Master was too clever for him, as well as showing him up as someone who showed fear and fled, the samurai gave up on his plan.

COMMENTARY

The tea master is using skilful means. He knows the intention of the samurai as soon as he sees him. How? He is an advanced meditator with acute mental focus and developed observational skills. He is also as skilled at misdirection and distraction techniques as any professional stage magician. He uses techniques not unlike those used by my student, while working to protect is Holiness the Dalai Lama (Chapter 18), specifically: distraction, misdirection and emotional disarmament. In this case, the tea master saves the samurai as well as himself, because the Lord would certainly have had the samurai retainer executed for killing his teacher. He also caused the samurai to revise his opinion on the weakness of tea masters and the political and strategic irrelevance of tea ceremony.

CHAPTER 16 The Art of Fighting Without Fighting

The famous Japanese swordsman Tsukahara Bokuden (d.1572) was in a small boat crossing Lake Biwa. Also on board was a rough and arrogant samurai, boasting about his skill. Bokuden ignored him. This seemed to annoy the bully. He demanded that Bokuden acknowledge him. Bokuden simply said that his art was one of not defeating others, and not being defeated. This puzzled the bully who demanded to know which sword school Bokuden belonged. Bokuden replied that he was of the no sword school. The bully demanded to know why it was that he carried a sword. Bokuden replied that his sword was for cutting through ego, not for killing others. The bully was by now really enraged and demanded to know if Bokuden planned to defeat him with no sword. Bokuden said he would, and suggested that they should fight their duel on a nearby island; they directed the boat to the island. The bully jumped off eager to start the fight. Bokuden quickly pushed the boat off, leaving the bully stranded on the island. As the boat pulled away Bokuden said, “This is my no sword art”.

COMMENTARY

Those familiar with Bruce Lee’s films will recognize this story, as Bruce used it in a scene in “Enter the Dragon” to illustrate the “Art of Fighting without Fighting”. In the movie, the bully is a New Zealand Karate Champion. Bruce Lee is playing the role of a Chinese boxer who is seeking to avenge the death of his sister and expose an evil kidnapper who runs a huge drug and vice operation.

The interesting thing about Bokuden’s trick is that he is saving the bullying samurai’s life. Such an ego would insist on a fight to the death, and since Bokudan was one of the finest swordsmen in Japanese history, the bully’s was sure to die if they fought the duel. Bokuden’s motive is compassion. He is also teaching the bully a lesson about boasting and throwing out stupid challenges. The strategy seems to have been used many times, especially when dealing with bullying drunks in public places.

One is set in Okinawa where the Shorin-ryu Master of Okinawan Karate, Gusukuma Shinpan Sensei (1890-1954) was teaching. He was a schoolteacher by profession, but is one of Okinawa’s most respected Karate sensei. One of his students was a bus driver. One time a drunk got on his

bus and started to cause trouble with the passengers and trying to pick a fight. The driver yelled at the drunk, "Do you really want a fight?" The drunk was quick to take up the challenge and demands that they fight now. The driver says he would be more than happy to give the drunk a good beating.

At this, the drunk becomes very angry and demands that the driver open the door so that they can get to it. When the door opens the drunk gets off and takes off his coat ready for action. As soon as he does so, the driver just smiles, quickly closes the door and drives off, with the drunk in hot pursuit. After a brief chase, the drunk fell and threw up on himself.

The driver had nothing to prove to the drunk or to himself. All the passengers laughed and told the bus driver that he had used good strategy. None of them knew he was an advanced student of Okinawan Karate.

I have heard of the same strategy being used to deal with an aggressive drunk on a crowded subway/underground train. An enterprising martial arts student apparently accepts the drunken challenge and suggests they settle matters on the platform. As the drunk gets off first, eager to get to it, the clever strategist, who knows the timing of the doors at rush hour, steps back onto the train just before the doors close.

In another variation, an advanced student of aikido is on a bus in Tokyo. A huge guy the size of a sumo wrestler gets on, he is clearly drunk and looking for trouble. He begins intimidating the passengers and being very unpleasant. The aikido man is about to leap up and play the hero, secretly delighted at a chance to test his skills and sort out the drunk. Before he can move a little old Japanese man gets up, takes the elbow of the drunken giant and says, “Hey pal, you been drinking sake? Me too, I love warm sake, but every time I drink the wife gives me hell so I have to get out the house. Can’t even relax in my own house, life is shit eh…”

In no time, the drunk is sobbing on the old man’s shoulder, saying he doesn’t want to get drunk, but his wife died and left him alone, and sometimes he just drinks for hours.

The aikido student is suitably chastened and reflects that the old man is a true teacher and that sometimes, drunken giants need some compassion and understanding. The aikido student is right. The old man is a true teacher. He does the bravest thing possible, the thing that the other terrified passengers will not do. He reaches out to the drunk and makes contact. He leads him by the elbow, a soothing and non-aggressive gesture, which is re-enforced by his tone and language. The old man appears unconcerned for his own safety. But as the aikido man should have realized, the physical contact allows him to monitor the drunk’s mood, and to anticipate from contact, any aggressive gesture. Muscle tension and resistance always betray this. There is none because the old man has completely disarmed the drunk by accepting his drunken state and empathizing with it, and by appearing to open up himself, he quickly gets the drunk to open up and reveal the true nature of his problem. This is real Skilful Means in action.

CHAPTER 17 The Compassion and Skilfulness of Dirty Harry

In the 1971 movie “Dirty Harry”, Clint Eastwood is Harry Callahan; a tough uncompromising San Francisco detective, with a reputation for unconventional policing methods. In an early scene in the film, he is called to a high building where a would-be suicide is threatening to jump. Harry asks the fire department to put him up to same level in a cherry picker. He shows the distressed man his badge, the man says, “Don’t try to grab me” Harry replies, “No way, I’m no hero. I’m not being pulled down to my death with you. No, all I want is your personal details. See, if I wait till you’ve hit the sidewalk it’s going to be a real messy job for me, finding your wallet in the blood and guts an all.”

The jumper’s face goes white, and then he responds, “Why you cold hearted bastard, and takes a swing at Harry, who grabs him and knocks him out with a punch and takes him down in the cherry picker.

In a later scene, Harry arrives at a bank robbery in progress. He has a shootout with the robber, and eventually wings him. The robber is on the floor leaning against a counter, his gun just in front of him. Harry cautiously moves forward and stops. He knows he is out of bullets. He is sure the robber’s gun is still loaded. So he bluffs,

“I know what you're thinking. “Did he fire six shots or only five?" Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement I kind of lost track myself. But being as this is a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world, and would blow your head clean off, you've got to ask yourself one question: Do I feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk? “

The robber weighs up his odds, makes no move for his gun, and Harry kicks it away.

Still on the floor the robber says, “I gots to know”

Harry puts his Magnum to the punk’s head and pulls the trigger. There is a click.

COMMENTARY

Oh I know what you’re thinking. Why is this guy quoting a 1971 Clint Eastwood cop movie in a book about Buddhism? Well putting it simply, in these two scenes Harry Callahan saves three lives. The would be suicide, his own, by preventing the bank robber from shooting him, and the bank robber’s, as he would certainly be headed for the electric chair for killing a cop.

First, some background. Harry is a tough but compassionate cop. He just hates anyone knowing about the compassionate part. For example, Harry goes against orders and tails a suspected serial killer who is evading the charges through lack of evidence. The killer gets a friend to beat him up and goes on the TV News accusing Dirty Harry of harassing him and giving him the beating. Harry’s chief is furious.

Chief: Have you been following that man?

Harry Callahan: Yeah, I've been following him on my own time. And anybody can tell I didn't do that to him.

Chief: How?

Harry Callahan: Cause he looks too damn good, that's how!

Now we can look at the scenes in detail. With the would-be suicide, Harry knows that conventional counselling type methods are unlikely to work; the man is too overwrought. He may also have been drinking. For all Harry knows the guy really doesn’t have anything to live for. So he uses shock tactics, misdirection and the fear of a bloody and gruesome death to shock the jumper out of his confused state.

By pretending he doesn’t give a damn and by not playing the conventional calming, counselling role, he disorientates the jumper. He then uses fear and confronts the man with the image of his own mangled body on the sidewalk. Buddhist meditations on death, in which the practitioners meditate on their own death and decay, also perform the role of shock tactics, often used to overcome lust and bodily attachment. Here the image, coupled with Harry’s apparent indifference, shocks the man and distracts him from his task. He finally loses his temper and takes a swing at Harry, giving our hero his chance to rescue the guy and save his life. The strategy is the same as that used by Ajahn Chah to shock or “exorcise” the afflicted woman out of her distressed or “possessed” state. The great teacher led her to believe she was about to be thrown into a grave, doused with boiling water and buried. This prospect of a violent and painful death did the trick and she came to her senses.

In the next incident, again Harry doesn’t know what the robber is on, speed, booze? He knows he is pumped up with adrenalin because of the robbery and shoot out. He knows that conventional methods of getting the guy to surrender have a slim chance. So again, he uses shock tactics and fear. He graphically confronts the robber with the image of his own violent death. His head blown clean off by a Magnum .44. Of course, he is out of bullets, so he is bluffing and saving his own life, but that is also saving the robber from killing a cop and going to the chair. So his compassion and skilfulness is manifested through his toughness. In both scenes he also lies. He promises not to grab the jumper, and seconds later does just that. He tells the punk he doesn’t know if he is out of bullets or not, when he knows his is. Traditional Buddhist stories and teachings of Skilful Means make it very clear that lying or breaking other Buddhist moral

rules are justified in order to save beings from themselves and lead them out of suffering. We know that that Ajahn Chah was not really going to have the poor “possessed” woman thrown into a grave and killed (Chapter 12). We know that the Buddha did not really have a miracle cure for the dead child when he sent Kisagotami to find the mustard seeds (Chapter 2). The Buddha had no intention of allowing the monk Nanda to pursue jhāna meditation states in order to be reborn in the heavenly realms of the maidens, to spend several million years there (Chapter 10). He was just tricking Nanda into overcoming his lust and attachment and developing himself spiritually, and even to progressing beyond jhāna states and heavenly realms, and eventually to attain Nirvāna. The Buddha and other compassionate teachers were just using a thorn to take out a thorn, so their methods are justified in spiritual terms. Dirty Harry’s methods are justified in humanitarian terms, as he is saving the lives of some very troubled people.

CHAPTER 18 Conflict Resolution and Skilfulness Demonstrated by the Dalai Lama’s Security Guard

The confrontational or shock tactics method of dealing with temporary insanity or possession, demonstrated by Ajahn Chah in the previous story may be contrasted with that demonstrated by one of my own students in a very different context. Some years ago, I was in charge of a security team, with the responsibility of protecting his Holiness The Dalai Lama when he was visiting the UK. His Holiness was giving public addresses and teachings to diverse audiences in different venues in London. My team was very experienced blend of martial arts and combat instructors, ex-military, and anti-terrorist personnel, and many with language skills, including Chinese, Tibetan, Japanese, Russian, Arabic, Turkish, and West European languages, medical and counselling skills as well as specific close personnel protection training. Most of the team were devout Buddhists and most had performed this role for His Holiness in three separate UK visits during the late 1990’s and early in the present Century, and were very experienced.

Some of The Dalai Lama’s audiences in the Wembley Conference Centre and were particularly difficult to keep secure, as the access and exits, at many levels are designed from public safety interests rather than anti-terrorist or containment of protest perspectives. We had an expanded team with security contractors working with the Wembley ticketing staff, supported by my team members at potential trouble spots. I had a call on the radio that there was trouble at one of the checkpoints giving access to concourse. A crazy woman was creating a major disturbance, demanding admission to the auditorium, claiming to be a leading journalist, and claiming the right to interview his Holiness. She had failed to show any security clearance, any press credentials, and didn’t have a ticket. I called my nearest team member to get him to the spot quickly and headed down myself from the stage. He is Japanese and a very experienced martial artist, an advanced instructor, with a degree in Psychology and a good understanding of human behaviour. As he arrived, the woman was engaged in a slanging match with ticket and commercial security staff.

Taro knew exactly what to do. Within the woman’s hearing, he spoke to me on his radio in street Japanese. I knew immediately what he was doing. This, along with his sharp but conservative suit, and his air of authority meant he that had her attention. The other staff stood back and acknowledged his authority, giving him direct access to the woman. Probably the ticket staff and

certainly the woman thought he was Tibetan. This gave him his edge. The woman clearly assumed he was a senior member of His Holiness staff, and clearly in her confused state, thought she had a chance of an audience. He gave his name quickly and identified himself as a senior member of his Holiness personal security team. This was true. We all wore official security clearance badges and wore earpieces and radios, so she could see he was who said he was. To a non-specialist European, his name sounded right and he looked vaguely Tibetan. And since he was wearing the right kind of suit and was on his Holiness personal staff, she guessed he was Tibetan. He took her to one side, sat her down and engaged in a long conversation. I arrived at the scene shortly after Taro, and he had already defused a potentially violent and disruptive situation. So I gave him a bow, to reinforce his seniority in the mind of the woman, stood by for a few minutes and left him to deal with it. Getting another of the team to cover his position, I left our potential troublemaker to her audience with a senior Tibetan on his Holiness Staff. I later asked Taro if had actually lied about his identity. He said not really, he let her make all the assumptions, and then once he got her distracted and talking, he asked all the questions. She was a very troubled person.

COMMENTARY

Taro had quickly established that he woman had personal problems and craved attention, which was what she was doing demanding access to his Holiness. So rather than resorting to violence, or even legal threats, and probably making the situation worse; he had given her the attention she craved, apparently from a senior Tibetan on His Holiness staff. Of course, neither Taro nor I are Tibetan, but he looked the part, and gave her the right clues.

His skilfulness defused a dangerous or at least very disruptive situation, and she appeared to have made a lifelong friend and counsellor in this mysterious Tibetan. All his professional security work revolved around reducing conflict, talking to people, and above all listening to them, and so resolving problems without resorting to violence or legal measures. He is of course a very proficient martial artist, but has never had to use these skills in a security capacity, preferring to get results with his counselling and communication skills.

CHAPTER 19 Angulimala: A Buddhist Transformation Story Conveying the Complexities of Karma

Angulimala was the son of the Chief Brahmin at the court of King Pasenadi of Kosala. His original name was Ahimsaka (Harmless One). As a member of the priestly elite at court, he was sent to receive the best education possible under the most respected Brahmin Guru at Taxila, the centre for education in the Vedas. He was a favourite of his guru. Handsome, intelligent and strong, he really irritated his less able fellow students. They grew increasingly jealous and plotted against him. They told the guru that Ahimsaka was having an affair with his wife. The guru dismissed these claims, but then began to have doubts, because of the amount of time the brilliant handsome student spent around his household. He finally became convinced it was true. He could not simply kill this highborn Brahmin with royal connections. Instead, he told Ahimsaka that if he killed a thousand victims and presented him with the right little finger of each one then he would reveal to the student the secret inner knowledge that all Brahmins seek.

Because Ahimsaka had been taught to always trust and obey his guru, he could do no other than comply. He went far and wide killing people, at first he only tried to kill bandits and thieves he met on the highways, but this proved difficult as people became more wary and suspicious, with a serial killer on the loose. He began to kill more or less at random, and took the little finger of each victim and tied them into a necklace or garland which he wore all the time, to keep count of his gruesome tally. The fearful population called him “Angulimala” which means “Finger Necklace” or “Finger Garland”.

The king grew concerned about this strong, cunning and resourceful killer roaming his kingdom, and he sent out troops to the forest to hunt him down and capture him. Ahimsaka’s mother at court knew of the manhunt and also went to the forest to try to warn her son and dissuade him from his evil deeds. Meanwhile Angulimala had claimed 999 victims, and was using his skills to try to encounter his 1000th. The Buddha using his psychic powers knew of Angulimala’s presence and his intentions. He also knew that in is confused mental state Angulimala was even a danger to his own mother if she managed to find him.

Increasingly desperate to complete his grisly assignment, Angulimala hunted for his final victim. Then at a crossroad of trails deep in the forest, he saw his mother approaching and resolved to

make her his final victim. Then he immediately saw a saffron robed monk walking away down another trail. Deciding to kill the monk rather than his mother, he drew his sword and began to chase the monk. But the faster he ran, the further away the monk seemed to get. This perplexed Angulimala because he could see that the monk had stopped walking. He ran even faster the called out, “Hey monk, stop, stand still!” The monk, who happened to be the Buddha, said, “I have stopped. I am still. It is you who has not stopped.” Angulimala, getting more and more confused, asked the monk what he was talking about. The Buddha explained, “I have stopped because I have given up killing or harming all beings. I am established in compassion, patience and wisdom through meditation. It is you who have not stopped killing living beings, and not yet become established in compassion, patience or wisdom through meditation. It is you who needs to be still.”

On hearing the Buddha speak, Angulimala’s mind was stilled and he immediately experienced the spiritual awakening known as dhamma-cakkhu (Dharma eye), which marks the entry onto the Higher Path, the condition of Stream entry. This is often explained in commentaries as the process of seeing Nirvana, albeit at a distance. So the adept knows of the real possibility of putting an end to suffering, ignorance, craving and grasping, but has not yet fully achieved that goal.

On acquiring the Dharma-eye Angulimala throws away his sword and asks the Buddha for admission to the Sangha. The Buddha assents saying, “Come monk”. Angulimala follows the Buddha to the forest monastery and devotes himself to the Path. But his meditation practice is often disturbed by his feelings of remorse for the 999 killings.

Shortly after, King Pasenadi arrives at the forest monastery with five hundred mounted troops, still hunting for the murderous “Finger Garland” serial killer. The King tells the Buddha of his manhunt, and the Buddha asks him what he would do if he told the King that the killer he sought was now a harmless saffron robed monk, living on alms and quietly pursuing the holy life and following the precepts. The King said it was impossible for such an evil one to change so radically, but if he were to be told this he would salute the monk and make sure he was protected and provided for. With that, the Buddha pointed to the monk on his right and said, “This Sire is Angulimala”. The King went white with fear, but remembering the Buddha’s words he composed himself, and questioned Angulimala, to establish his identity. Since the King knew the monks parents well, and when he looked close he recognised the young man who was Ahamsaka. He asked the monk if he needed any more robes or requisites for his practice in the forest. The monk politely declined saying he was fully provided for. The King in amazement said to the Buddha. “You have tamed and calmed he who could not be tamed. I couldn’t tame this one with all my armed men and military powers, yet you have tamed him with words. I salute you. I leave him in your care. I must return to my duties at court”

One day while on his alms round he encounters a woman in difficult labour with much blood, and reflects, “Beings are indeed impure”. When he returns to the monastery, he tells the Buddha what he has encountered. The Buddha tells him to go back and help the woman by the following “Act of Truth” by uttering the words, “Sister, since my birth into the Aryan path I have not intentionally killed another living being. By this truth may all be well for you and the unborn child.” The woman immediately recovers and the child is delivered safely.

Realising that this truth act confirmed his new pure status as a stream entrant and monk on the Noble (Ariya) path, and that his new life effectively began at that point. He put his doubts and guilt feelings behind him. He devotes himself to his meditation with new resolve. Very quickly, he achieves Nirvana and become an Arahant.

Shortly after this, he is on his alms round when he is struck on the head by stick and stones thrown by villagers. The Pali commentaries explain this as an accident, saying the villagers were simply throwing things at marauding dogs and didn’t see the monk. Angulimala returns to the forest monastery with blood streaming from his head. The Buddha tells him, “Endure it Brahman. You are experiencing now the ripening of karma which would otherwise cause you to be reborn in the Niraya Hell for thousands of years.”

Angulimala does endure his karmic punishment and feels no enmity or anger towards those who injured him. He renews his commitment to harmlessness and nonviolence, and lives out his days in peace.

COMMENTARY

This highly dramatic story indicates just how dangerous and short life could be in 5th century BC India. With mad religious fanatics as assassins who were ready to become serial killers on the orders of their gurus. It was not always a peaceful and ordered society. Even monks and ascetics were not immune from danger.

Buddhist teachings on karma are sometimes criticized as being deterministic and fatalistic. Some critics claim that they lead Buddhists into a resigned and passive acceptance of their role in life, seeing their own misfortunes as the result of previous unwholesome actions, and therefore unavoidable. I would agree that some Buddhists do mistakenly reflect these attitudes. But in fact they represent a completely mistaken view of karma and a failure to understand its complexities. This is not surprising, since we have already seen in the Great Ape Jataka (Chapter 4), that a full understanding of the detailed operation of karma and its implications is only available at the highest levels of attainment and practice.

Buddhist teachings and biographical examples in the texts and stories indicate clearly that however unfortunate a person’s present circumstances may be, and whatever unwholesome and evil actions they have done, in this life or previous lives, the situation can always be turned around, by direct understanding of Buddha-dharma and a comprehension of the acts and processes which have led them to where they are. This is exactly what happens to Angulimala, with surprising consequences for him, and interesting implications for our understanding of the intricacies of karmic processes.

The first thing to note is that Angulimala was definitely doing evil. Killing 999 people certainly counts as such. However, the fact that he was doing so under orders from his guru, and remembering the respect given to gurus in Indian culture, does explain the context. It does not constitute a defence or justification, as the Buddha’s later explanation makes quite clear. Angulimala was about to make things a whole lot worse for himself karmically speaking, by setting out to the kill the Buddha and make him his 1000th victim. Or almost as bad, if the Buddha had not intervened, Angulimala had been about to kill his own mother. Apart from killing a Buddha, an Arahant or a monk, killing one’s mother or father was one of the worst evil actions imaginable.

The Buddha with his advanced psychic abilities, knows the assassin’s intentions, as well as identifying his troubled life history and evil past actions. He also sees something else, the real spiritual potential of this young man. We know from the story that Angulimala was very able, dedicated and accomplished; learning quickly from his Brahmin teacher (guru). He was therefore trained in Vedic ritual, some form of meditation, as well as having memorized a large body of Vedic hymns, chants and some Theological commentaries and discussions. Indeed, it was Angulimala’s skill and diligence as a Brahmin student that led to his problems. The other students became jealous of him and invented the account of his wrong doing in order to discredit him in the eyes of the guru.

The Buddha is able to use his higher psychic knowledge (abhiññā) to observe the previous lives of all living beings, giving a vivid and direct understanding of the nature of Angulimala’s actions and the attendant consequences (karmavipāka). So it can be said that the Buddha knows exactly where Angulimala is coming from, in ethical, spiritual and karmic terms

The Buddha further uses his powers (iddhi) to create a situation where Angulimala is forced to confront his own evil actions as well as being forced into a direct and powerful encounter with the Buddha and Buddha-dharma. The pointless pursuit of the Buddha, serves to heighten the drama of the situation, but it also starts to disorientate Angulimala and make him wonder what he is dealing with. The Buddha is using his own absence of physical movement to reflect the peaceful nature of his mind, contrasted with Angulimala’s frenzied pursuit, which reflects his agitated and troubled mind, which was intent on violence. “Stop and be still”, here uttered by the Buddha means, “Still your agitated mind and stop the violence which it is giving rise to”. On hearing the Buddha speak, Angulimala’s mind was stilled and he immediately experienced the spiritual awakening known as dhamma-cakkhu (Dharma eye), which marks the entry onto the Higher Path, the condition of “Stream Entry”. This is often explained in commentaries as the process of seeing Nirvāna, albeit at a distance. So the adept knows of the real possibility of putting an end to suffering, ignorance, craving and grasping, but has not yet fully achieved that goal.

Shortly after his dramatic first encounter with the Buddha, Angulimala does achieve that goal and becomes an Arahant, but only after he has been able to calm his troubled thoughts and remorseful feelings because of his former evil actions. The intervention of the Buddha and the incident with the poor woman in labour, and Angulimala’s “Act of Truth”, testifying to his harmlessness since entry into his new higher spiritual life, serve to deal with his guilt and remorse and pacify his mind, so he can progress. Notice that it is in helping another, in this case the mother and the unborn child, which enable the monk to progress to a higher level of understanding and attainment. (“The Act of Truth is discussed in Chapter 5, The Cane Drinking Jataka story.)

According to Buddhist action theory (karmavipāka), as an Arahant, Angulimala is devoted to harmlessness and nonviolence, and has put an end to greed, hate and ignorance. He no longer acts in such a way as to generate results and consequences in the future. In that sense, karma formation is ended for him. His mental and volitional processes that could generate further results are all still and he is liberated from them. But, as the Buddha makes clear, he is still subject the consequences of unwholesome actions in his past, prior to his spiritual transformation to Arahant. That process is demonstrated vividly by the terrible head wounds he suffers. The Buddha urges him to endure them, because first he is an Arahant, and second were he not an Arahant and if were still producing actions with future consequences, such as remaining a deluded serial killer, tormented by greed, hate and ignorance, he would at death be reborn in a particularly unpleasant hell realm for thousands of years. The Buddha’s explanation

of this incident shows clearly that Buddhist action theory or karma understanding is not deterministic or fatalistic.

Karmic processes and their consequences are inevitable in human existence in the world of life, craving, grasping suffering, death, and rebirth for more of the same. But those karmic process can be considerably modified by the purifying effects of higher practice on the Buddhist Path, and unwholesome results of previous actions can be almost eliminated by the highest attainment of liberation, Nirvana. Even the Buddha himself, though free of any karma forming volitions and actions, due to his transformed and liberated status, is still subject to the results of unwholesome actions long ago in his past. On one occasion, he suffers an injured foot. As the Buddha of course he endures it, but explains to the monks that it is the result of unwholesome action he performed many lives in the past. He once kicked a stray dog. This perhaps partly explains why monks today are so kind to stray dogs, feeding them left over rice and any other scraps, and it explains why Thai temple compounds are so densely populated by stray dogs.

Although this story often presented as a tale of redemption it is better interpreted as story of personal transformation. Angulimala was not redeemed by any divine intervention, but by the natural purifying of his own motivations, his volitional mental tendencies and the refining of his consciousness through advanced meditation practice. The final attaining of Nirvana refines most of those residual mental tendencies, and renders them almost entirely ineffective. Hence, the unwholesome results of his terrible life as a serial killer are modified and reduced to the head wounds he appears to suffer by accident. Though there is no redeeming divine intervention involved, the psychic powers and compassion of the Buddha, intervening at the significant crossroads in Angulimala’s life, are coming very close to functioning in the same way. Ultimately it is Angulimala’s own decisions and own efforts which win him liberation. But it is the Buddha who places him in the situation and engineers the encounter which gives the killer the chance to redeem and transform himself. The Buddha then supervises Angulimala’s future practice and assists him in dealing with his terrible burden of guilt and remorse. The conventional Buddhist view would be to say that in transforming himself in this way Angulimala was saving himself, with the help of the Buddha from a very long time in hell, for the 999 murders already committed. One could also say that in his deranged and confused violent mental state, when he was on the brink of killing either his own mother or a holy monk (the Buddha), things were about to get a whole lot worse for him. One could also say that in this deranged mental state he was already in hell. This kind of immanentist and psychological perspective is found commonly in Zen and Tibetan Mahamudra, direct paths of Buddhist practice. Angulimala is already in hell because his life of conflict and violence makes him see the world and himself in a certain way. This hell is not the realm he will go to after death because of his evil actions, it is the realm he has created through his deluded view and violent intentions and actions. It is the realm in which he is already in. In this realm, he is hunted by the kings’ soldiers, and feared and shunned by ordinary society. As soon as his mind transforms, the realm he is living in transforms. He becomes a different person; his new robes and new name as a monk signify this. His interaction with the world changes and the soldiers no longer hunt him. He no longer threatens others so they do not threaten him. His response to the woman suffering in childbirth is pity and concern, and suddenly he has the means as a transformed person, to help her.

Apart from what it tells us today about transformation or redemption, the complexities of karma, the compassion of the Buddha and the nature of progress on the Buddhist Path, the story is also important because it includes the incident where Angulimala helps the woman in painful labour. This provides the basis for the Angulimala paritta, a Pali protection chant and ritual,

performed usually by monks to assist and psychically protect pregnant women, especially those with complications. (See: P. Harvey ed. 2001 pp136-138.)

There are many different paritta (Singhala “pirit”) ceremonies performed and chanted by monks to assist lay Buddhists through the crises and trials of life and death. In an emergency, a paritta can even be chanted by a layperson, if they happen to know it. They can be used to pacify and calm the minds of overwrought or aggressive persons, animals or ghosts. Paritta, especially when performed by monks also serve to generate merit. A full paritta ritual performed by monks, joined by a fine white cord that connects them to a Buddha image, is the most effective protection ritual generally available in the Theravada Buddhist countries such as Sri Lanka, Thailand, Burma, Laos, and Cambodia. After the ceremony, the white cord is cut into sections that the monks tie around the wrists of the lay participants. This extends the protective power of the paritta and gives the laity a tangible memory of their participation in an important Dharma ritual. The Mahayana and Vajrayana (Tantric) traditions of Tibet, China, Korea and Japan, have their own versions of protection rituals (see Harvey ed. 2001 pp138-144).

Based on detailed lexical analysis of the Angulimala story and especially of the sometimes- confused Pali commentary on it, Richard Gombrich argues that Angulimala was an early Shaiva/Shakti tantric practitioner. His strange and violent behaviour is then explicable in these terms. In this scenario, it would appear that Angulimala’s guru has a very different agenda to that described in the Pali commentary. Although the god Shiva is briefly referred to elsewhere in the Pali Canon, and his role as the Vedic god Rudra was familiar to all Brahmins, there is a problem with the above theory, as Gombrich admits, in that Shaiva practices were not attested until over 1000 years after the time of the Buddha, and they did not include the specific details of Angulimala’s strange behaviour. However, the Gombrich theory on Angulimala as a proto Shaivite, which even finds evidence of Kali, Shiva’s consort, in the Pali Canon, is worth examining (Richard F. Gombrich 1996 ch.5).

Another very different contemporary development inspired by the life of Angulimala is the Buddhist Prison Chaplaincy Organisation of the United Kingdom, which is simply called Angulimala. It was founded in 1985 and its Spiritual Director is, Ven. Ajahn Khemadhammo (Chao Khun Bhavanaviteht) OBE. It is an ecumenical Buddhist Chaplaincy organisation, accepting all schools and traditions of Buddhist practice. Ven Khemadhammo is an English monk who trained in the forest hermitages and monasteries of Northeast Thailand under the famous meditation Master Ajahn Chah, who already features in the story of the Exorcist in this book. (See also Ajahn Brahm Opening the Door of Your Heart 2004.)

The Angulimala Buddhist Prison Chaplaincy website also includes an account of the story of Angulimala, as well as a brief history of the organization and Ven Ajahn Khemadhammo’s role in founding it in 1985. Those seeking further information about this organization should visit the website: http://angulimala.org.uk/.

The website lists the specific responsibilities of a Buddhist Prison Chaplain as follows:

 To exercise a pastoral ministry to the whole establishment, and to ensure the availability of Buddhist Teaching and Practice.  To encourage the development of Morality, Meditation and Wisdom.  To be a kalyana mitta or ‘good friend’ to the registered Buddhists.  To make a Buddhist contribution to the life of the prison.

The Angulimala Buddhist Prison Chaplain is not there to convert prisoners to Buddhism. It serves to offer Buddhist teaching, meditation, services and friendship only to those interested and who request them. It is nondenominational as an organization and its primary focus is on making core Buddhist teaching and basic meditation practices available to prisoners who request these. Angulimala will also try to offer a chaplain from the particular Buddhist tradition, if that is what is requested. Consequently Angulimala Prison Chaplains may be from Theravada, from Zen, from Pure Land (Shin) Buddhism or Sokka Gakai (based on faith in and chanting of the Lotus Sutra), or from the many of the traditions and lineages of Tibetan Buddhism.

On the Angulimala Buddhist Prison Chaplaincy website, Ven Ajahn Khemadhammo explains why Buddhist Prison Chaplaincy work is so important. He points out that there are some obvious general similarities between the life of a prisoner and that of a monk; both are living in regulated institutions, bound by rules and sometimes spending time in solitude. More importantly, Ven Ajahn Khemadhammo points out that,

“…we all imprisoned by our greed and aversion, by our ignorance, and our prejudices and attachments? It was my belief then, as it is now, that Buddhist techniques equip us with the means to escape that imprisonment and enjoy a secure and lasting peace. Thinking along these lines, I decided that I did have something to offer those in prison…

…what I do in the prisons is more or less what I do in the monastery. The difference is that while for most people they can come to the temple, for prisoners we have to take the temple to them”.

It should be pointed out that Angulimala Prison Chaplains are not necessarily Buddhist monks, nuns or priests. Experienced Buddhist lay practitioners who observe the precepts and follow a meditational or similar discipline, are also qualified to serve. Ven Ajahn Khemadhammo continues by reflecting on the need for prisons in our society, and suggests how Buddhist teachings may be able to help prisoners in rebuilding their lives, and hopefully avoid wrongdoing in the future.

“I really wish there weren’t prisons. Buddhism teaches that none of us are perfect and that all determined actions have their results so we might question whether it is right for anyone to sit in judgement on another and impose penalties and whether indeed it’s necessary. But the reality is that prisons do exist, society does demand something from those who offend against its interests and many thousands of human beings now and in the future will spend portions of their lives in prison. To me it is shameful that that time should be wasted. So, as anywhere else, in order to alleviate suffering and offer people the hope of a better and happier future, but especially for prisoners to salvage something positive from their predicament, we try to make the Teachings and Practice of Buddhism available in the prisons.” http://angulimala.org.uk/the-story-of-angulimala/

As a young lecturer in the late 1970s and early 1980s I was a volunteer teaching on a prison education program at the prison nearest my university. This was in the days before the founding of Angulimala by Ven Ajahn Khemadhammo. Although I was there to teach social studies, general studies and some study skills lessons, what many prisoners were interested in was religious and spiritual matters, and when they heard I was Buddhist, that what was what they wanted to know about. Consequently, many classes were re-structured and based around their interests. Even though this was an adult prison, even in my tender years I was struck by how young many of the inmates were. Often the same age as my students at university. I was

also struck by the seriousness of some of their questions, and the thoughts and experiences that lay behind them. Often their questions arose from a genuine desire to understand life and the world around them, unlike in the university, where students had already learned to “play the academic game” and where most discussions were tinged with a kind of artificiality and were usually designed to impress the tutor or to learn how to accumulate the highest essay marks and exam scores. Students and lecturers are, and sometimes feel themselves to be, part of a privileged elite. The prisoners were not so privileged and not so fortunate. One thing that struck me was how easy it was to make mistakes, use poor judgment, make friends with the wrong people, and find oneself behind bars. This downward process is even easier in some countries such as the USA and most countries in Asia, where custodial sentences are more automatic as the first choice in those legal systems. I can firmly recommend the work of the Angulimala Buddhist Prison Chaplaincy Organisation, and wish it could be reproduced for prison populations all over the world.

CHAPTER 20 The Fisherman and the Businessman: Buddhism and Wealth

In a quiet Mexican village by the sea in mid-morning, a fisherman was unloading a few fish from his small boat in the harbour. An American businessman and international business consultant there on vacation was watching him from the harbour wall. The American couldn’t resist asking the Mexican why he was finishing so early with such a small catch. What was he going to do for the rest of the day? The Mexican replied that it was enough to feed his family and with some left to sell to a fishmonger in the market. He would walk back to his house by the sea, have some lunch with his wife, take a siesta in the afternoon, and then play with my kids. After to dinner he would go to the cantina for a drink with his friends and play his guitar a little.

The American tells him he has it all wrong. He needs to stay out fishing for the rest of the day and increase his catch. With the profits in a year or so, he can buy a bigger boat, hire crew, and increase his catch and his profits. In a few more years, he can buy more boats, and be the owner of a fishing fleet. Then he can move to Mexico City or LA and float his company on the stock market with himself as CEO with a generous share option and a big salary. Then a few more years’ expansion and he can launch a company share buyback scheme, and make himself a multimillionaire. He assured the fisherman he knows about such things as he is a highly successful businessman himself.

The fisherman says that is very interesting, but what would he do with all these millions of dollars. The American says, “Well you can take it easy. With all that money you can retire and buy a house near the sea, go fishing in the morning, have a long lunch and siesta, spend time with your family and in the evening play your guitar in the cantina and have a drink with your friends”.

“But Señor”, says the fisherman, “I do all these things already.”

COMMENTARY

This is another contemporary story from Ajahn Brahm, an English Buddhist monk who trained with Ajahn Chah, one of the most respected Buddhist teachers of the 20th century, in his forest monastery in northeast Thailand. Ajahn Brahm is now head of Bodhinyana Monastery in Western Australia.

Two very different worldviews and lifestyles are described in this story. Though he is a Mexican, the fisherman very much reflects the worldview and the lifestyle of a typical rural based South East Asian Buddhist. He is content with what he has. He is not seeking to accumulate great wealth or build a business. He only takes enough fish to provide for him and his family, and spends the rest of his day in “quality” time with his family. He also does not overfish and so does not contribute to depleting the fish stock in the Gulf of Mexico. By contrast, the American businessman is like a missionary for capitalism and the American way. He immediately wishes to impose his values, worldview and lifestyle on the Mexican. He wants him to increase his catch, get a bigger boat, then get a fleet of fishing boats, then builds and run a whole fish production business. The obvious question is what about the fish stocks? And the next obvious question is the one raised by the Mexican, why? To work, slave and compete for 20-35 years, hardly ever see his family, miss seeing his kids as they grow up, in order to secure a wealthy and leisured life, the desirable parts of which he already has. The question is, what insecurity lies behind the Americans capitalist missionary zeal?

Just over a hundred years ago, one of the founders of modern sociology came up with some answers to that one in his famous treatise, “The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism.” It is a fascinating and quite complex historical, theological, psychosocial argument, and it has in my view much to commend it. Weber argues that the religious ideas of groups such as the Calvinists played a role in creating the capitalistic spirit. Weber first observes a correlation between being Protestant and being involved in business, and declares his intent to explore religion as a potential cause of the modern economic conditions. He based his thesis partly on his detailed study of the Reformation of the 16th century and the Protestant sects and churches that emerged from it, including the New England Puritans. His study was also based on the Protestant businessmen he observed first hand in his own country Germany and on a visit to the USA in 1904. The first, and probably most vital, feature of the spirit of capitalism was that it invested “economizing” with high moral significance. The individual engages in capitalistic economizing not only for the expediency of making a living, but in the expectation that such activity would test his inner resources and thus affirm his moral worth. In this regard, the American novelist Walker Percy observed, “As long as I am getting rich, I feel well. It is my Presbyterian blood.” It should be noted that Presbyterianism is strongly Calvinistic in its theology.

Weber argues that the modern spirit of capitalism sees profit as an end in itself, and pursuing profit as virtuous. Weber's goal is to understand the source of this spirit. He turns to Protestantism for a potential explanation. Protestantism offers a concept of the worldly "calling," and gives worldly activity a religious character. While important, this alone cannot explain the need to pursue profit. One branch of Protestantism, Calvinism, does provide this explanation. Calvinists believe in predestination, the doctrine that God has already determined who is saved and damned. As Calvinism developed, a deep psychological need for clues about whether one was actually saved arose, and Calvinists looked to their success in worldly activity for those clues. Thus, they came to value profit and material success as signs of God's favour.

Other religious groups, such as the Methodists, and the Baptist sects had similar attitudes to a lesser degree. Weber argues that this new attitude broke down the traditional economic system, paving the way for modern capitalism. However, once capitalism emerged, the explicitly Protestant religious values were no longer necessary, and the ethic took on a life of its own. The modern world is now locked into the spirit of capitalism because it is seen as so useful for modern economic activity. It is now no longer the case that the modern businessman in the USA or anywhere else, is necessarily a Calvinistic Protestant, because capitalism has a momentum of its own. In fact, it was not essential to Weber’s theory that all European and later, American businessmen were Calvinistic Protestants. The theory only required that enough of them were such to influence the dominant ethos and values of capitalism decisively. It is quite surprising, at least to Europeans, as to how many capitalists are still Protestants of various sorts in the USA.

Throughout his book, Weber emphasizes that his account is incomplete. He is not arguing that Protestantism caused the capitalistic spirit, but rather that it was one contributing factors. He also acknowledges that capitalism itself had an impact on the development of the religious ideas. The full story is much more complex than Weber's partial account, and Weber himself constantly reminds his readers about his own limitations, and that his study is incomplete. Weber went on to write detailed studies of the Religions of China: Confucianism and Taoism, and the Religions of India: Hinduism and Buddhism. He died in 1920. Weber was an intellectual giant in late 19th and early 20th century Europe.

For understanding the different values behind our story, it is sufficient to realise that behind the American faith in the moral and religious legitimacy of economic growth and expanding consumption, is a deep-seated insecurity. Weber locates this insecurity in the capitalist need to feel that his economic success is in itself a clear indication and his redeemed status as one of the Elect. After all, God is not going to back a bunch of economic losers is he? Since God knows already who is to be saved, he might as well allow them to flourish.

We may think, as did Weber that such thinking or assumptions are deeply flawed and deeply egocentric. But much religious and theological thinking is deeply egocentric and seriously flawed, so that should not surprise us. The point is that it seems to work as an explanation for the American thirst for economic growth and personal wealth, and the missionary zeal with which it these attitudes and beliefs are proselytized. Our businessman in the story feels the evangelical need to preach the ethics of hard work and the rewards of material success, to the Mexican fisherman, and hence the missionary endeavour to turn him into a capitalist. Whereas capitalist values and modern economics focus on high rates of economic growth, Buddhist economics relies on harmony and sustainable relations between humanity and the environment. Instead of promoting a maximum of consumption to boost the economy and to foster growth, well-being and a spiritually healthy life should be attained with simple means and a minimum of consumption. Buddhist economics is in sharp contrast to the classical economic equation of maximum consumption leading to maximum satisfaction. Instead, it offers the Middle Way, which is a model of balance and moderation. Buddhism therefore advocates the wisdom of moderation and contentment. When using resources, we should reflect on their true purpose rather than using them regardless of natural environment and the interests of other beings.

Buddhist Economics

Teachings on Economics are scattered through the scriptures. Most of them refer to the Buddha`s teachings of the four requisites: food, clothing, shelter and medicine. For ordained people on the one hand and householders on the other end, the Buddha gave different teachings that refer both to the different spiritual aims that they pursue and to different conditions they live in. The monastic discipline is much stricter than the rules on how to be a good householder. The monastic discipline exemplifies a lifestyle that on the least possible amount of material goods, so that ordained people can devote as much time and energy as possible to study, practice and teaching the Dharma. The Buddha however, did not condemn the acquisition and possession of wealth for ordinary people. The possession of wealth is even praised and encouraged in the Pali Sutta. But all wealth should be acquired and used in a right way. In the Anguttara Nikaya we find a list of wrongful trades and the pathways to ruin which one should not follow. The five kinds of wrongful trade are:

1. trade in weapons; 2. trade in human beings; 3. trade in flesh; 4. trade in spirits and inebriating substances; and 5. trade in poison.

Those involved in that kinds of trade not only harm other beings, but also create unwholesome states for his or her further existence. The four pathways that lead to ruin are debauchery, drunkenness, gambling and bad company. Note that in the Pali Suttas the Buddha gives as specific dispensation to fisherman in coastal regions, so they are excluded from the Buddhist ban on hunting, because fish is fundamental to their diet and economy. The pathways to ruin can be contrasted with the four bases of social harmony as described in suttas in Digha Nikaya and the Anguttara Nikaya: generosity, kindly speech, service and participation that benefit both social life and individual well-being. In the Samyutta Nikaya we find a ranking of altogether 10 levels of householders with respect to the way they earn their living. To seek wealth unlawfully, and causing hardship and unhappiness for others, is considered the worst. Those who seek wealth unlawfully, but in so doing providing happiness for themselves and others rank a bit higher, even though they do not perform meritorious deeds. Hoarding of wealth, miserliness and unwillingness to share with others are seen as the most evil uses of wealth. Highest ranked are those who seek wealth lawfully, and in so doing providing happiness for themselves and others; they share it and perform meritorious deeds. If they are moreover not attached to or infatuated with their wealth, they are heedful of its dangers, and possess thereby the insight that leads to spiritual freedom. The theme in the scriptures is not wealth as such but the way it is gained and used. Harmful actions associated with wealth are seeking wealth in dishonest or unethical ways; hoarding wealth for its own sake; and using wealth in ways that are harmful to oneself and others. Blameworthy qualities are greed for gain, stinginess, attachment to possess and the pure accumulation of wealth without willingness to share it with others. There are no objections to using wealth in way that are in accordance with the Dharma. Even wealthy people are praiseworthy as long as they seek wealth in rightful ways and use it to create happiness for themselves and others. Acquisition is considered acceptable as long as it is helpful in the practice of the Dharma.

It is interesting to note how much of these guidelines revolve initially around the notion of intention, and then around the notion of benefits. Are the householders, as businessmen,

seeking to do good and bring long-term happiness to others? Are they actually delivering on this intention? Are they actually sharing benefits with others, or simply accumulating for themselves? All their actions of course are producing results and consequences far beyond the immediately observed outcomes. This is because they are subject to the laws of long-term cause and effect, volitional and psychological modification, in other words, subject to operations of karma. This explains why there are no specifically named sanctions or punishments, even for the worst types of greed and exploitation, trading in narcotics and trading in humans for labour or sex. Whatever legal sanctions are in place, they will often take their course against such people. But even more important from Buddhist perspective is the “karmic damage” of unwholesome effects they are storing up for themselves in the future.

(See Website; Buddhist Scriptures in Multiple Languages: http://www2.fodian.net/world/ and Hans-GuenterWagner On Buddhist Economics as a Science of Right Livelihood http://www.buddhanetz.org/texte/economic.htm.)

CHAPTER 21 The Cabbage Leaf in the Stream: Buddhism and Work

Once a young monk was wandering through China, looking for a true teacher of Ch’an (Zen) Buddhism. He heard about a wise old teacher living in a hut in the mountains, so he walked for days to find him. He followed a stream that flowed past the old teacher’s hut, which he could see in the distance. Then as he got closer, he saw a cabbage leaf floating down the stream. He looked disappointed and was turning around to walk back down the mountain. As he did so he saw an old man run by the stream, grab the cabbage leaf and walk towards his hut. The monk knew he had found his teacher.

This story was told to me many years ago by my teacher, Rev Jiyu Kennett Rōshi, in the context of her exposition of the Tenzo-kyōkun (Instructions for the Chief Cook), completed by Dōgen Zenji in 1237 CE. In the following section, I shall cite several passages from this text and then discuss Dogen’s teaching on the importance of work as spiritual practice.

Dōgen cites the existing monastic regulations for the Chief cook (Tenzo) in Ch’an temples, which state that the cook should put his awakened mind to work, making a constant effort serve meals full of variety and appropriate to the need and the occasion. The meals should enable the community to practice Zen fully with their bodies and minds without any hindrance. He adds that the Chief Cook should handle all the ingredients he cooks with as if they are his own eyes. He should handle the food with respect as if it was meal to serve the Emperor.

He states that the Tenzo should not leave even the most basic tasks of cooking to others such as servants or temple juniors. Washing and cleaning vegetables or sorting rice should be the work of the Tenzo’s own hands. He continues, “Put your whole attention in to the work, seeing just what the situation calls for. Do not be absent minded in your activities, nor absorbed in one aspect of a matter that you fail to see other aspects. Do not overlook one drop in the ocean of virtue by entrusting the work to others. Cultivate a spirit which strives to increase the source of goodness on the mountain of goodness”.

(Dogen Zenji & Kosho Uchiyama Roshi trans. Thomas Wright: “From the Zen Kitchen to Enlightenment, Refining your life” Weatherhill Inc, New York. 2001 p4.)

He goes on to state that when washing the rice, every grain of sand or grit must be removed and no grain of sand should be lost. He describes the following incident,

Xuefeng Yicun was once the tenzo under Dongshan Liangjie. Once day while Xuefeng was washing the rice, Dongshan happened to pass by and asked, “Do you wash the sand and pick out the rice, or wash the rice and pick out the sand?” Xuefeng said, “I wash and throw away both the sand and the rice together.”

Dongshan said, “What on earth do the residents here eat?”

In reply, Xuefeng kicked over the rice bin.

On seeing that Dongshan said that Xuefeng would one day be Enlightened, but under a different master.

Dogen concludes this section saying,

“…in this same way, the greatest teachers from earliest times who were settled in the Way have carried out their work with their own hands… The Way seeking mind of a tenzo is actualised by rolling up your sleeves.”

Dōgen continues,

“When you prepare food, never view the ingredients from some commonly held perspective, nor think about them only with your emotions. Maintain an attitude that tries to build great temples from ordinary greens, that expounds the Buddhadharma through the most trivial activity. When making soup with ordinary greens, do not be carried away by feelings of dislike towards them or regard them lightly; neither jump for joy simply because you have been given ingredients of superior quality to make a special dish… Your attitude towards things should not be contingent upon their quality…

“Handle even a single leaf of a green in such a way that it manifests the body of the Buddha. This in turn allows the Buddha to manifest through the leaf. This is a power which you cannot grasp through your rational mind. It operates freely, according to the situation, in a most natural way. At the same time, this power functions in our lives to clarify and settle activities and is beneficial to all living things.”

(See: Dogen & Uchiyama trans. Wright, 2001 pp 5-8.)

COMMENTARY

Dōgen came to an understanding of how the work of the Tenzo chief cook illustrates the heart of Zen practice during his three-year training period as a monk in China, where he observed and spoke to the Chief Cooks at various Ch’an temples between the years 1223-1227. The whole text of the Tenzo-kyōkun celebrates the ordinary nature of Zen training, “The way seeking mind of a Tenzo is actualised by rolling up ones sleeves”

The ordinary kitchen tasks of the cook, chopping vegetables, washing rice, cooking soup, making pickles, washing pans, are in fact the actions of Buddha, so the text celebrates both the ordinariness and the extra ordinary nature of Zen training,

“Handle even a single leaf of a green in such a way that it manifests the body of a Buddha. This in turn allows the Buddha to manifest through the leaf”

We can see from this that here is a Zen Buddhist work ethic, and it is very different from the “Protestant work ethic” illustrated in the previous chapter. While we can perhaps see rationally how serving the monastic community by preparing the food, is a form of Buddhist service. We can also see how the specific tasks of cooking and kitchen duties; the focus, care, and attention to detail required, are opportunities for meditation. We can see how humble tasks such as cooking or any work can be opportunities to mediate and experience mushin (no mind) non- discriminatory attention and flowing awareness, as discussed in the Stories of “The Tea Master and the Samurai” and “The Game of Chess”. But in Tenzo-kyōkun and his other writings Dōgen is making even bigger claims and greater demands of Buddhist practitioners. He is saying that performing these tasks and doing this kind of work is the work of a Buddha, and that by performing any task correctly, you are demonstrating Big Mind (daishin). Wright & Uchiyama translate this term as “Magnanimous Mind”.

“Magnanimous Mind is like a mountain, stable and impartial Exemplifying the ocean, it is tolerant and views everything from the broadest perspective. Having a Magnanimous Mind means being without prejudice and refusing to take sides. When carrying something that weighs an ounce, do not think of it as light, and likewise, when you have to carry fifty pounds, do not think of it as heavy. Do not get carried away by the sounds of spring, nor heavy hearted upon seeing the colours fall. View the changes of the seasons as a whole, and weigh the relativeness of light and heavy from a broad perspective.” (Dogen & Uchiyama, trans. Wright, 2001 p 18.)

“Big mind” or “Magnanimous Mind” (daishin) includes the notion of non-discriminatory awareness. Dōgen explains and exemplifies this in the text saying it as includes the quality of even mindedness, or impartiality. In traditional Indian Buddhism, even-mindedness is one of the four Brahmaviharas or sublime states, which are cultivated in specific exercises by Theravada Buddhist meditators. The four Sublime States are:

 loving kindness,  compassion,  sympathetic joy and  impartiality/even-mindedness

These qualities are fundamental to Zen training and to all Buddhist practice. They have been demonstrated in many of the stories in this book.

“Big Mind” is another expression for Prajñā, Buddhist wisdom or non-dual insight.

In the Mahāyāna and especially the Prajñāpāramitā sūtras, this is the quality of seeing dharmas as empty of own being, and seeing beings as empty of self. As empty, all dharmas and all beings are fundamentally equal (samata) and of the nature of sameness, and fundamentally pure as they are reflecting the nature of suchness (tathatā). One radical conclusion form this teaching of sameness and impartiality is that ordinary beings are not to be discriminated from Buddhas, and samsāra (the world of suffering and rebirth) is not to be discriminated from Nirvāna. In this Mahāyāna soteriology, and Zen way of seeing, samsāra is simply Nirvāna seen from the viewpoint of ego centred discriminatory thinking, while Nirvāna is simply samsāra seen from the perspective of non-discriminatory insight (Prajñā) or Big mind.

Based on this, the Zen strand of Mahayana, and particularly in Dōgen’s writings, there is a clear emphasis on the Buddha nature of ordinary things. It is notable that in Tenzo-kyōkun, Dōgen warns cooks to beware of stray insects or mice falling into the food being prepared. Chinese and Japanese monks are strictly vegetarian, so they do not want to be killing and eating creatures, even accidently. The tenzo also has to aware of cleanliness and hygiene issues.

From the point of view of spiritual liberation, the theoretical knowledge that all dharmas are empty, and all beings are fundamentally Buddhas, and that Nirvāna is fundamentally no different from samsāra, doesn’t seem to change anything. The theoretical understanding of these statements does not make us enlightened. Dōgen makes it perfectly clear in all his writing that a theoretical knowledge of the highest teachings of the Mahāyāna is of no value, unless it is underpinned by real practice and experience. In other words, you have to roll up your sleeves, and have the skill and ability to handle the leaf so that it manifests the body of a Buddha. So in Tenzo-kyōkun he is actually talking about the quality of attention and the level of skill in Zen practice.

Dōgen introduces an equally import and practical concept. This is “rōshin” which he explains as “parental mind” and this is the mind which asks, “well, what will the community eat?”

So having said that that theoretically in Big mind, all things are pure, i.e. all things are empty, Parental mind understands that it is still necessary to functionally distinguish between things, and sees what is appropriate and what is inappropriate, what is edible and what is inedible, and can act accordingly. It distinguishes between what is appropriate to eat and what isn’t, but it does not discriminate. It does not say, rice and vegetables are good, sand and soil are bad. It is simply that they have their own time and place.

Parental mind can even distinguish functionally between ordinary beings and Buddhas, and distinguish functionally between samsāra and nirvāna. In other words, parental mind is an expression of compassion, adaptability and skilfulness in dealing with the multiplicity of beings and situations that occur in the course of life. The text of the Tenzo-kyōkun repeatedly revisits the notions of the identity of things in terms of their ultimate nature (i.e. emptiness or Buddha nature) along with the need to deal with things in terms of their plurality and differentiation. It goes further, by describing the appropriate frame of mind or quality of attention needed to achieve this in the course of Zen practice.

In short, the text is about the kind of attention required to deal with multiplicity & complexity in the light of the identity or sameness of things, and how this is quality of attention is achieved in the context of Zen practice in the kitchen. This explains the extraordinary behaviour of the cook Xuefang in his kitchen. His teacher’s question is not just about how he washes the rice. It is about whether he does so with a discriminatory mind. Does he view the rice as “good” and the sand as “bad”?

Xuefang is saying he doesn’t discriminate, “Not at all, I throw both out.”

In other words, he is not seeing rice as good and sand as bad. But Master Dongshan points out that there is an important distinction between not discriminating and seeing differences. His response indicates that it is perfectly possible to see the difference between rice and sand and treat them accordingly, without discriminating or applying value judgements to the process. That is practical and allows the community to eat. Xuefang acknowledges this insight and kicks the rice bin over to celebrate or memorialise what Dongshan has taught him. This action is important and memorable because it is the last thing a tenzo would normally do. So he was making sure that the exchange and the incident were remembered.

Dōgen’s comments confirm the point that seeing the differences between things is not the same as discriminating about them. He is saying that from an ultimate or higher standpoint ordinary beings are Buddhas, everything is imbued with Buddha nature, but we nevertheless need to recognise the differences between things, and act appropriately or skilfully. In the Tenzo- kyōkun Dōgen is saying that “Big mind” (daishin) non-discriminatory awareness, even mindedness and impartiality and non-dual insight must be cultivated and practised in the light of parental mind or compassionate mind, which sees to the sustaining the basic needs of the community and feeding them. So the incident for Dōgen is fundamentally about reconciling wisdom (non-dual insight) with compassion, and how to reconcile them in terms of Zen training and practice.

When I was a high school student in the 1970s, I had a summer job working in strawberry canning factory. The strawberry-picking season was brief and the fruit had to be processed and canned quickly before it rotted. We would start work around 4.30 in the morning unloading pallets of strawberries from the Lincolnshire fields. Then we would have to destalk, sort, grade and wash them ready for canning. The debris of waste leaves, stalks, etc. was simply thrown on the factory floor, to be washed away later. The work would go on for hours, usually until 9.00 in the evening. My self-appointed task for most of the day after unloading, was rescuing the moths, beetles and caterpillars that were all over the strawberries, and taking them outside to let them go. If challenged by a supervisor I simply replied that we couldn’t have all these insects getting into the strawberry cans and we couldn’t have them dead all over the factory floor. I was already a Buddhist and I think this was in my humble way of trying to practice “Magnanimous Mind”. It did earn me the nickname, “nature boy” from all the factory workers.

Then when I lived in a Zen monastery, I was given the job of cook. It was a very small community so no senior monk could be spared as tenzo. I learned a great deal about cooking in that job, and about Zen. The Head monk, outlining my duties said, “Ho-un (my Buddhist name), when you have washed the sand and grit from the rice, and the soil from the vegetables (we grew our own), make sure you return it all to the garden, along with the ‘waste’ water. We need all the soil and nutrient filled water we can get.” The monastery was up in the hill country with very poor soil. I never had to chase a cabbage leaf down a stream, but every bit of “waste” vegetable matter was donated to the compost heap, and recycled to the soil. We grew some of the best vegetables I have ever tasted, even after I had cooked them.

CHAPTER 22 Bodhidharma and the Emperor Wu: Merit Making, the Buddhist Path and the Nature of Reality

Bodhidharma followed the Silk Road, walking from India to China to bring his understanding of Buddha Dharma to the lands of the east. He was granted an audience with Emperor Wu, who ruled in Southern China and was a devout supporter of Buddhism. The Emperor told the Indian sage that throughout his reign he had funded the building of temples, the copying and distribution of sutras, and the supporting of monks and nuns. He asked Bodhidharma what his store of merit would be for all these worthy acts.

Bodhidharma replied bluntly, “No merit whatsoever sire.”

The Emperor was astonished and demanded to know why.

Bodhidharma replied, “All these are inferior deeds, which cause their author to be reborn in the heavens or on this earth again. They still show traces of worldliness, they are like shadows following real objects. They appear real but are actually nothing, illusions. As for a true act of merit, it is full of pure wisdom, perfect and mysterious. Its real nature cannot be grasped by the intellect. It cannot be gained by worldly achievements.”

The Emperor asked, “What is the first principle of the Holy Dharma?”

Bodhidarma answered, “Vast emptiness sire. There is nothing in it to be called holy.”

The Emperor asked, “Then who is it that now stands before me?”

Bodhidharma answered, “I know not sire.”

COMMENTARY

Bodhidharma was the famous Indian monk who is said to have transmitted the Zen (Ch’an) lineage from India to China around the Fifth Century CE. The accounts of his meeting with Emperor Wu are to be found in the Zen compilations: the Hegikanroku of Setcho dating from the 11th Century, and the Shoyoroku of Bansho, dating from the early 13th Century. In his encounter with Emperor Wu, he is taking the perspective of “higher truth” of an Enlightened Buddhist teacher. This of course is the standpoint of one of the spiritual elite.

Buddhist texts and authorities from all schools and traditions accept models of spiritual understanding and moral attainment that are both developmental and hierarchical. Such models are implicit in the notion of "Path" itself. This means that beings at different levels of understanding and attainment are taught in ways and at levels appropriate to their understanding and attainment. The Buddha's and any enlightened teacher's skill in teaching consists in their capacity to identify and adapt to the level of those being taught. This explains why the Buddha's response to what appear to be the same questions could vary according to the situation and understanding of the questioner.

One way of articulating this kind of differentiation is through the concepts of conventional truth (saṃvṛti-satya) and ultimate truth (paramārtha-satya). This distinction is usually associated with Mahāyāna Buddhism, particularly the philosophical tradition of Mādhyamika. Steven Collins has shown convincingly how it is equally appropriate to the Pāli texts and the Theravāda tradition. He applies it specifically to the various levels and types of discourse developed around the notions of person (pudgala/puggala) and no-self (anātman /anattā), and relates these levels to the social categories in Theravada Buddhist societies and to the distinction between 'Kammatic Buddhism' and 'Nibbanic Buddhism' (Collins 1990: ch. 5).

Collins is employing a distinction applied to Buddhism by the scholar Melford Spiro forty years ago. I would say that Bodhidharma in his exchange with the Emperor Wu, is discussing the issue of merit and the Buddhist Path, from the perspective of higher truth or in the context of Nibbanic Buddhism. Spiro defines Nibbanic Buddhism which relates to the teachings, practices and concerns of the "spiritual elite" within the sangha (monastic community), who are directing their practice to the attaining of liberation (Nibbāna /Nirvāna).

Spiro explains Kammatic Buddhism (relating to kamma/karma) as Buddhism that is concerned with the performance of wholesome actions, and through them the attaining of a desirable rebirth, either as a god, a wealthy and powerful man, or as a monk who will then be in a position to follow the path to liberation more fully. Spiro sees the orientation and concerns of the majority of Theravada Buddhists as participating in this type of Buddhism.

Spiro developed a third distinction which he called Apotropaic Buddhism, which is concerned with using the "magical" or meritorious power of Buddha-dhamma and its representatives, to protect people from natural and supernatural calamities. It includes using Buddhist ritual chanting to protect against demons, droughts and in exorcism and healing procedures. Spiro acknowledges the extent to which the activities and concerns within these categories can interact and overlap. He clearly does not present them as self-contained systems or as completely rigid categories (Spiro 1971:12). These categories are of considerable value in understanding the structured appropriately to different beings on different levels of

understanding. Therefore, Buddhist teaching as delivered by advanced teachers is never standard.

This is certainly true of Bodhidharma in his encounter with Emperor Wu. As a devout lay Buddhist, the Emperor’s perspective is clearly of the Kammatic type, as defined above. His standpoint as an ordinary lay Buddhist is from the perspective of ordinary truth or conventional truth. Bodhidharma makes some concession to this viewpoint by saying that his merit making actions may well allow him to be reborn in a lower heavenly realm, or back on earth. But that is not what the higher practices and teachings of Buddhism are directed to. Furthermore, there is as Bodhidharma points out, more than a trace of worldliness about the Emperor’s actions and intentions. This is indicated by the Emperor’s blunt question to the sage, “What meritorious rewards am I going to get out of it?”

This attitude does not even accord with the correct mind-set which formal acts of ritual giving (dāna) are meant to embody, according to Lance Cousins, a noted teacher and scholar of Buddhism.

The inner intention of the giver is reflected in the care, attention and joy with which the giving is performed. The higher the state of mind, the more powerful the action (kamma). Important too is the state of mind of the recipient, made infectious as it were by the special nature of the act of giving. Either of these is sufficient to make the act effective. The two together are even more powerful.” (Cousins in Hinnells ed. 1985 p301.)

The emphasis on the intention and attitude underlying the act is characteristic of Buddhist ethical teaching and practice. The popular understanding of the merit (puñña) which results from the practice of giving (dāna) is an important feature of lay Buddhist practice in all Buddhist countries For those aspiring to systematic practice and attainment on the Path, dāna helps the preliminary settling of the mind, and reduces selfishness, and provides a natural preparation for undertaking the Precepts. For the laity there are normally five precepts. Again, the formal undertaking of the precepts, which usually follows the "going for refuge" to Buddha, Dharma and Sangha, constitutes a religious act that brings about benefits and merits. The refuges and precepts are therefore chanted at the outset of most formal Buddhist activities. The wording of the precepts is significant; it translates as follows:

I undertake the training rule of refraining from:

- destroying life;

- taking what is not given;

- wrong behaviour in regard to sense pleasure;

- untrue speech;

- causes of intoxication.

The precepts are formulated not as imperatives or commandments, but as training rules voluntarily undertaken to facilitate practice. For the laity there are no externally imposed sanctions for transgression of the precepts. According to Buddhist action theory, unwholesome acts will result in unpleasant tendencies and results. Spiro observed in Burma that the main

motivation for complying with the precepts was fear for the "karmic" consequences of non- compliance, rather than the positive meritorious benefits of compliance (Spiro 1971 p99). Behaviourally one could argue that this amounts to the same result, but Spiro is rightly concerned with the psychological or motivational factors behind moral behaviour.

In his study, he lists the set of conventional Burmese beliefs about the specific consequences of failure to comply with specific precepts. They are as follows: for adultery the man will be reborn with a small penis, the woman will be reborn as a prostitute. For adultery with a married woman, the consequence is hell. For killing, the consequence is usually an interminable period in one of the hells, the length of duration depending partly upon the moral, spiritual and "biological" status of the victim, and sometimes on their relationship to the killer. Killing a monk or one's parents is clearly amongst the gravest of offences. Killing other people or animals is certainly serious but the time in hell will be shorter. For less grave cases of killing, a short human life rather than hell may be the result. Killing mammals is graver in its consequences than killing reptiles; killing invertebrates is the least grave. Stealing will result in an impoverished future life; the consequences of white lies can be removed by meritorious acts. As Spiro points out, there are many variations in the detailed "karmic" correlations which ordinary Burmese people maintain (Spiro 1971 pp98-102). Spiro observed that amongst Burmese Buddhists positive acts such as giving (dāna), the support of monks or building pagodas, or the purchase and release of animals intended for slaughter, are considered more effective methods of acquiring merit rather than simple compliance with the precepts (Spiro 1971:103-113). Similar findings can be observed amongst Thai, Lao and Cambodian Buddhists.

As Lance Cousins points out, the cultivation of giving (dāna) and moral conduct (sīla) will themselves refine consciousness to such a level that rebirth in one of the lower heavens is likely if further practice and entry on the Path are not developed (Cousins in Hinnells ed. 1985 p 304). It should be underlined that there is nothing improper or un-Buddhist about limiting one's aims to this level of attainment. It is the “kammatic” level of practice of the majority of lay Buddhists and indeed most monks in most Buddhist societies.

As described by Spiro, and as observed in much lay practice in many Buddhist countries, it is clear that there are problems with the kind of ‘moral calculus’ reflected in the conventional thinking of many Buddhists. The notion of scales of merit and demerit, which in both Burma and China were actually tabulated and distributed for popular consumption, is clearly missing the point. First, because karmic processes are not mechanical, they are complex and variable, according to a whole range of motivational factors and co-existing mental and spiritual conditions. The story of Angulimala, and the radically transforming effect which spiritual cultivation has upon karmic processes, clearly demonstrates that (Chapter 19). Second, karmic processes are not predictable, at least not to ordinary unenlightened persons. And third because the “moral calculus” attitude is a form of craving and attachment, or as Bodhidharma says, they are inferior deeds still reflecting traces of worldliness. Rejecting precisely this kind of “moral calculus” approach of conventional “kammatic” Buddhist practice, David Loy points out that karma is best seen as the key to spiritual development or “how our lives are transformed by our motivations” (Loy in J. Watts (ed) 2009 p 237). Loy understands Buddhist ”no self”, impermanence and karma teachings in psychological terms, and points out that if our sense of self is a mental construct, then karma is not something which we have, but is what we are. According to these teachings, what we are changes according to our conscious choices. He points out correctly that we reconstruct ourselves according what we intentionally do. Our habitual ways of thinking and acting are what constitute our sense of self. People are not therefore punished or rewarded for what they have done, but for what they intentionally become. He correctly indicates that this Buddhist understanding anticipates Spinoza’s point that

happiness is not the reward for virtue; happiness is virtue itself (Loy in J.Watts (ed) 2009 p237). For Loy this raises the issue of agnosticism towards the reality of rebirth and reality of karma operating from one life to the next. If karma is understood in the context of spiritual development, and is really about transforming the mind and its motivations and so changing how we interact with the world now, then is there any need to posit other realms and other lives in which karma process continue? The conclusion of the Pali Kalama Sutta, which I discussed in the context of the conflicting views of reality in the story of the Blind Men and the Elephant (Ch6), is very interesting in this context. The Buddha points out that the advantages of a purified mind and karmically transformed person are of benefit whether or not there is rebirth in another realm after death (Loy in J. Watts (ed) 2009 p233 & Kalama Sutta, complete translation by Thanissaro Bhikkhu. Access to Insight, June 8, 2010, http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/an/an03/an03.065.than.html)

Of course, as Loy points out the Buddhas hypothetical agnosticism abut re-birth may be seen as rhetorical or tactical because he is in discussion with the Kalamas who are not Buddhists, and are exasperated by the rival and dogmatic reality claims being made by different teachers. The Buddha’s answer is that the Kalamas should doubt everything that is taught dogmatically and test it within terms of their own experience. The test is actually a pragmatic one, does this teacher demonstrate a life of skilfulness, blamelessness and the removal of greed, hate and ignorance. If so, then the teaching is worthy of acceptance. Christopher Lamb points out that the emphasis by many modern Buddhist teachers such as Ajahn Buddhadhasa is upon the operation of karma within this life, and the transformations we go through within this life, rather than on storing up merit for future life (Lamb in P Harvey ed. 2001 p 259).

The problem in Emperor Wu’s case, is that because of his great power and wealth, his acts of dāna, rather than purifying his mind and facilitating progress to a higher level of practice or deeper understanding, have been corrupted by egocentric thinking and attachment to the merit and rewards he can expect now and in the future. Bodhidharma skilfully attempts to rid the Emperor of such attitudes, by shock tactics; telling him there is no merit, and exposing to the higher order “Nibbanic’ perspective of ultimate truth (paramārtha-satya) and confronting him with the real nature of existence.

What lies behind Bodhidharma’s blunt statements is the idea that a true act of merit, such as giving (dāna) of a superior non-worldly type is conducted without attachment, without egocentric notions of rewards and benefits. It is of the supermundane (lokuttara/transcendent) type, or giving, infused with wisdom. It must be performed in the light of reality, in the light of non-discriminatory wisdom or prajñā. In other words, it must be giving which is empty of self, or any notion of self-interest, or even any notion of a recipient or beneficiary.

The ultimate purpose of the Buddha dharma is enable those who respond to it to find release from suffering, by removing its causes, ignorance, selfish craving and grasping. At the root of these is the notion of a permanent self, soul or person, separate from the rest of existence with their own interests and unique characteristics. To break down this notion, the Buddha analysed the individual into five psychophysical elements or sets of factors. These are called the skandha (khanda) which means “heaps” as in piles of earth. They are:

1) Form (the body) 2) Feelings, 3) Perceptions 4) Volitions 5) Consciousness

The Buddha pointed out that all of these heaps are subject to change, impermanent, and are without any entity that equates to a soul or permanent self. The individual person only exists for as long as these skandhas organize themselves together. The individual is in fact a stream of constantly flowing and changing moments of consciousness, arising from feelings, perceptions and volitions. When they disperse, that person is gone. Consciousness, in this analysis is a process, not an entity.

The early followers of the Buddha who were more analytically inclined adopted this method of analysis, incorporated it into their practice of meditation and in order to demonstrate the impermanence and insubstantiality of all conditioned things, they analysed all phenomena into their constituent elements. They called these “dharmas” and the method of analysis and the texts it generates became known as Abhidharma. Every combination of these dharmas was seen as a nominal, not an ultimate reality, and like the person, are subject to change and impermanence. Some schools of Abhidharma posited that even dharmas themselves are momentary and therefore insubstantial. The number of dharmas that different Abhidharma schools posited varied, one school claimed there 75 another identified 82. We shall return to discuss the significance of these dharmas shortly.

The Buddha taught that the human condition and its attendant suffering, pain and dis-ease, in fact the whole cycle of birth, growth, illness, pain and pleasure, old age, death and rebirth come about because of rules of cause and effect. Cause an effect applies also at the level of dharmas. Nothing exists independently in its own right, everything depends on its preceding cause and co-existing sustaining conditions. This sequence was called conditioned co-production.

In analysing the human condition, the Buddha said that it was best to start with ignorance, because that was one of points the causal chain of suffering could be broken. He said because we are ignorant and deluded, we cause mental processes or volitions to develop, these in the form of intentions, volitions the will to act even on vague desires, are the primary active processes in the formation of karma becoming, and therefore of re-birth taking place. These processes in turn give rise to the processes of consciousness. The arising of consciousness the gives rise to the forming of the skandhas, particularly of the body and the functioning senses. Because we have a body and senses, they naturally form sense contact, and feelings or sensations. These in turn give rise to cravings, and these in turn give rise to acts of grasping and appropriation. Grasping at its most fundamental level is grasping after life itself, and this is called becoming, and becoming, the desire to exist inevitably gives rise to existence in terms of rebirth. Unless this cycle of ignorance, consciousness forming, craving and grasping and more becoming is broken out of, then re-birth will go on and on.

Buddhist training and practice, the training in moral purity, training the mind in meditation, training the mind to understand directly the insight or wisdom of the Three Marks of Existence and the Four Noble Truths, are what enable the Buddhist to break the chain or jump of the cycle.

Noting the causal nature of the above analysis and of the whole process of karma, the early Mahayana monks around 100 years before Christ, said that understanding causality was the key to understanding the whole process. They looked again at the causal processes just outlined and observed that since each element in the process was dependent on its prior causes and co- existent conditions, then nothing can be said to exist independently in its own right. This is exactly what the Buddha said about the skandhas or heaps of psychophysical processes that constitute the so-called “self”. The Mahāyāna monks agreed and said that in fact nothing exists independently in its own right, in its own self or own being, in fact for things to exist at all, they must be empty of own being. Hence, the famous Mahāyāna teaching of emptiness (shūnyatā)

emerged. It is that teaching which Bodhidharma is reflecting, along with its corresponding teaching of “no-self”.

We have seen that the Hinayana Abhidharma teachers demonstrated the impermanence and insubstantiality of existence by analysing phenomena into their basic constituents or dharmas. The Mahayanists agreed and pointed out that these dharmas are themselves insubstantial and impermanent and are empty of own being. In other words, they only exist relative to the preceding dharmas that caused them, and the temporary conditions that sustain them.

The intention behind such teaching, and the practical consequences of it were the same as those of the original no-self teaching of the Buddha. Since nothing is self-determined and really existent as a permanent entity, and since all dharmas are without self and are empty of own being, then the only sensible attitude to take towards them is one of radical detachment. Let them go. Give up any precious notion of self, give up any notion of permanent phenomena to be attached too. Furthermore, such a radical teaching also enjoins the abandoning of any permanent self or person to be attached with.

Huang Po a famous Zen Master in the 9th Century declared,

“If you students of the Way wish to become Buddhas, you need study no doctrines whatever, but only learn how to avoid seeking for and attaching yourselves to anything. Where nothing is sought this implies Mind unborn; where no attachment exists, this implies Mind not destroyed; and that which is neither born nor destroyed is the Buddha.

The eighty four thousand methods for countering the eighty four thousand forms of delusions are merely figures of speech for drawing people to the Gate. In fact, none of them have real existence.

Relinquishment of everything is the Dharma. One who understands this is a Buddha. Relinquishment of all delusions leaves no Dharma in which to lay hold.”

(John Blofeld trans. The Zen Teaching of Huang Po Rider Press 1958 p40)

This statement is the fundamentally same as that I quoted from Dogen at the end of chapter One. Both are taking the radical higher truth perspective of Bodhidarma in this story. So in this perspective, in the light of emptiness there is no permanent characteristic of the Dharma which can be called “holy”. And there is no permanent self who can be called “Bodhidarma”.

All three are saying, “just let go, relinquish everything”. Emperor Wu in this particular encounter is above all being urged to relinquish his attachment to his supposed treasury of merit and his putative rebirth in a pleasant heavenly realm.

Of course, many further questions may arise from the radical teaching of emptiness and no self. For example, if all dharmas are empty and all beings are without self, what is it that is Enlightened, what is it that attains Nirvāna? Rather than echoing Bodhidharma and saying,

“I know not sire”

I shall echo the Arahant Sariputta when asked essentially the same question.

The monk Udayi asked him

“In the absence of feeling and sensation, how can there be bliss?”

Sariputta replied, “The absence of feeling and sensation is itself bliss.”

(See W. Rahula What the Buddha Taught Ch 4 p43)

In other words, if the apparatus of the self or person that is the skandhas, is dismantled at death, including the apparatus of experiencing and sensing things, including mental processes, then how can the blissful state of Nirvana be known or experienced after death. The cryptic answer of Sariputta is that the purest or most blissful sensation or feeling is the absence of sensation and feeling. Similarly, when the monk Upasiva asked the Buddha whether one who goes to rest, meaning attains Nirvana and later dies. Does such a person not exist or exist forever without disease?

The Buddha replied, “There is no measure to one who has gone to rest, they keep nothing that can be named When all dharmas are abolished, all paths of speech are also abolished” (Sutta Nipata quoted in Edward Conze Buddhist Thought in India pp77-79)

In other Pali texts, the Buddha insists that Nirvana is not complete annihilation and states that there is, ‘… an unborn, unbecome, unmade, unconditioned. If monks there was not….then no escape from the born, become, made conditioned would be known.” (Quoted in Walpola Rahula What the Buddha Taught, 1974 Ch 4. From Udana 80 trans. F.L Woodward, in Minor Anthologies of the Pali Canon vol 2)

According to the Buddha, ordinary consciousness is created by its prior causes and co-existing conditions. The mental and physical apparatus provides the preceding causes and the senses reacting to external stimuli sustain it, along with internally generated thought and emotional processes reacting to internal or external stimuli. That is ordinary consciousness, a set of processes filled with mental objects (dharmas).

In the case of a being that attains Nirvāna is liberated and gone beyond. Mental objects no longer sustain their consciousness, and they no longer grasp after and appropriate any dharmas. So according to the Buddha, “… such a one has nothing that could be named.”

The best analogy to illustrate this is that of silence in relation to noise. The “noise” of our lives of suffering, ignorance, craving and grasping (samsāra) is like the noise in a busy factory. Walk into it for the first time and the noise is deafening and hard to tolerate. Work there for a long time and you get used to it, possibly even becoming partially deaf in the process. In other words, you try to adjust to the suffering. Then leave the factory floor and go to the dispatch office. Peaceful, compared to the factory floor, but in fact still quite noisy. This is like the lower stages of meditation, we feel peaceful compared to the noise of working life in the factory. Then go to the MD’s office, it is even quieter, the plush carpets and curtains, feels like bliss or heaven. This can be compared to the absorption (jhāna) meditation states that correspond to the lower heavenly realms that the monk Nanda, initially aspired to in chapter … But if you stay in the MD’s office a while, you will still notice some noise; phones will ring, computers hum. Actually, this is still samsāra. Then leave for the peace of the countryside; Nirvāna, complete tranquillity, total bliss. Then notice that the tranquillity and bliss are part of our reaction to this wonderful calming silence. They are not properties or characteristics of the silence itself. Nirvana tends to be defined in negatives, in terms of what it is not. How do you characterise silence, by the absence of noise. How do you characterise Nirvāna, by the absence of suffering. Silence like Nirvāna is ’ unborn, unbecome, unmade, unconditioned”. Notice that the underlying silence is there in the middle of the factory floor and in the office. It is merely a matter of taking away the noise. Nirvāna, in this way of thinking underlies samsāra, you just have to take away the suffering, the mental noise of ignorance, craving and grasping.

Some scholars posit that this does not rule out the possibility of an unsupported consciousness, which because it has no content and is not subject to craving and grasping, is pure and unstained. To distinguish this from ordinary stained and content filled consciousness, it is called in some early Pali texts, “the brightly shining mind (citta)”.

Some scholars argue that this is the forerunner of the later Mahāyāna idea of the seed of Buddhahood in all beings, and the Zen/Chan notion of Buddha-nature. Though these two concepts can also be seen as the logical outcome of the notion that all beings have the potential to attain the same level of Enlightenment as that of the Buddha (see Peter Harvey Buddhism 2001 pp81-83). Dōgen further develops this to the point where he states that all beings are already fundamentally enlightened Buddhas, it’s just that they don’t know it yet. So Dōgen rejects the notion of Buddha-nature as future potential to become an Enlightened Buddha. He states that Buddhist practitioners should not train, meditate, keep the precepts, follow the Path, not in order to become Buddhas. They should train, meditate, keep the precepts, follow the Path, because they already are Buddhas, and these actions are the actions of a Buddha. In other words, do no train to gain anything, train to express the Buddha who you already are.

The other way at arriving at this startling revelation of the Buddhahood of all beings is to go back to the analysis of the causes of the human condition re-examined by the early Mahāyāna teachers. We have seen that in the causal processes involved in explaining the arising of the human condition and of karma processes, they observed that since each element in the process was dependent on its prior causes and co-existent conditions, then nothing can be said to exist independently in its own right. The Mahāyāna monks said that in fact nothing exists independently in its own right, in its own self or own being, in fact for things to exist at all, they must be empty of own being. Dharmas are themselves insubstantial and impermanent and are empty of own being. In other words, they only exist relative to the preceding dharmas which caused them and the temporary conditions which sustain them. The Mahāyāna teaching of emptiness (shūnyatā) also concludes that if all dharmas are empty of own-being, if they are empty of essential, permanent self-determining characteristics, then they are also fundamentally identical. Multiplicity and differing characteristics are simply the result of our own processes of mental appropriation, discrimination, craving and grasping, in others words, they arise from ignorance. The non-differentiation of dharmas or the fundamental identity of dharmas in sameness (samata) means that ultimately there is no difference between one being and the next. The same conclusion arises from the Mahāyāna understanding of no-self teaching. One “no- self” is pretty much the same as the next. So there is really no ultimate distinction between ordinary beings and Enlightened Buddhas. Hence, we are all fundamentally Buddhas, whether we know it or not. Similarly, there is no ultimate difference between the world of birth, suffering, old age and death (samsāra) and the release from it (Nirvāna). The following early Mahayana text makes this position very clear:

“Those who are afraid of the suffering arising from the discrimination of birth and death (samsara) and who seek for Nirvana, do not know that birth/death and Nirvana are not to be separated. They don’t see that all things subject to discrimination have no reality, and they imagine that Nirvana consists in the future annihilation of the senses and their fields”.

Laṅkāvatāra Sūtra II 18 trans. D.T.Suzuki p 55)

So from the Enlightened no dual perspective of supreme wisdom, suffering in samsāra is illusory. Having been told this we notice that we still continue to suffer. That is because we are still discriminating from the standpoint of ignorance. So the solution to the problem is the same as it always was, abolish ignorance and the discriminatory processes of craving and grasping.

The situation in the Hinayāna and Abidhamma analysis is one in which beings are drowning in a sea of suffering. They will panic and trash around in reaction, some will calm down and develop swimming skill, in other words, they learn mediation and spiritual practice, and they make or the shore, and so free themselves from drowning. The “further shore” is one of the old Pali terms for Nirvana. In the Mahāyāna view the situation is one of beings who are already on the shore, in fact they are asleep on the beach. They dream they are drowning. In fact, the sea is a mental construct a dream. But their reactions are real enough, just like the first group. They struggle in the sea of suffering (samsāra), start trying to swim to the shore, and suddenly they wake up. There was no sea, and they are already on the shore. But the efforts they made to save themselves from drowning in the illusory sea are what woke them up. Interestingly the root verbal meaning of the term translated “Enlightenment” is bodhi and it means “to wake up”. So “sambodhi” is awakening, and Bodhisattva is “awakened being”. The Zen term satori is the translation of sambodhi, so also means “awakening”.

So in Mahayana Buddhism and Zen which is form of Mahayana, reality is the same, samsāra is not separate from Nirvāna. As the Lankāvatāra Sūtra says, it is our perspective on them that is faulty. Get rid of mental appropriation, discrimination, craving, grasping; in other words get rid of ignorance, and you will see things as they are. Putting this another way, samsāra is simply reality viewed from the standpoint of ignorance, craving and grasping, Nirvāna is simply reality viewed from the standpoint of non-discriminatory, non-dual insight or wisdom (prajñā).

When Tao Hsin asked his Master Seng Ts’an:

“What is the method of liberation?”

Master Seng said, “Who binds you?”

Tao Hsin said, “No one binds me.”

Master Seng said, “Why then should you seek liberation?

Chao-chou asked, “What is the Tao?”

Master Nan-chu’an said, “Ordinary mind is the Tao.”

Chao-chou asked, “How can one get into accord with it?”

Master Nan-chu’an said, “By intending to accord you immediately deviate.”

Chao-chou asked, “But without intention how can one know the Tao?”

Master Nan chu’an said, “The Tao belongs to neither knowing nor not knowing. Knowing is false understanding; not knowing is blind ignorance. If you really understand the Tao beyond doubt, it’s like the empty sky. Why bring in assertion and negation?”

From the Ching-te Record of the Transmission of the Lamp T 51, No 2076 ch3 &10

(See A. Watts The Way of Zen p 108 & 118)

For the purposes of the above discussion, ‘Tao’ means both Buddha Dharma and Buddha Mind, Enlightenment. But these are equated with the common and the ordinary, on the basis of the non-differentiated nature of dharmas, the non-difference of samsāra and nirvāna and the fundamental identity of ordinary beings and Buddhas. It therefore follows that the way to accord with Tao or Dharma is to avoid all attachment, including the attachment to Dharma or

Buddhahood or Tao. As Huang Po declared, “Relinquishment of everything is the Dharma. One who understands this is a Buddha. The relinquishment of all delusions leaves no Dharma on which to lay hold.” (John Blofeld, trans. The Zen Teaching of Huang Po 1958, Rider p.40.)

This is the radical non-attachment of higher Buddhist practice. This is the level of practice and understanding that Bodhidharma is addressing with Emperor Wu. Not surprisingly, it is unlikely that the Emperor knew what the great Indian monk was talking about at the time.

CHAPTER 23 Publishing the Sutras: Buddhism and Charity

The Zen monk Tetsugen decided to raise the funds to publish the Buddhist sutras and distribute thousands of copies from woodblock printing. He needed huge sums to finance the project and walked all over Japan gathering donations. After 10 years, he had raised enough funds. Then a region of Japan suffered flooding followed by food shortages and famine. Tetsugen used the money to feed the starving people. He set out again raising money to fund the sutra publication project. It took him 5 years. But then there was a widespread epidemic. Tetsugen used the funds to buy medicines and distributed them to the victims. He again set out to raise more funds for the project. After five more years, he had the money. The wood blocks were engraved and the sutra copies were produced. These sutra printing blocks are still preserved in the Obaku Zen Temple in Kyoto.

Zen tradition says that Tetsugen made three sets of sutras, he first two are invisible and are the most valuable, as they saved thousands of lives.

COMMENTARY

It is clear from the previous chapter that in the provisional perspective of “Kammatic Buddhism”, activities such as publishing and distributing the sutras, sponsoring their chanting by monks and building libraries and temples to house them, are highly meritorious actions. But in Tetsugen’s case, accruing merit was not the motive behind his sutra distribution project. He simply wanted to spread the treasure of Buddha-dharma among the people. How do we know that his motives were and pure and altruistic? First, he was a monk and as such already had a vast store of merit according to traditional Buddhist thinking. Second, from the way he unselfishly gave the funds freely to feed starving people and save the lives of the epidemic victims. He recognized that these actions were also just as valid as expressions of Buddha- dharma. It is important to note that he still continues to raise the funds and goes ahead with the sutra printing and distribution project, at the third attempt. This clearly indicates that giving Dharma in form of sutra distribution and giving help to those in need, are not alternatives. It is not a case of either/or; Tetsugen does both.

CHAPTER 24 The King’s Three Questions

It once occurred to a certain king, that if he always knew the right time to begin everything; if he knew who were the right people to listen to, and whom to avoid; and, above all, if he always knew what was the most important thing to do, he would never fail in anything he might undertake.

And this thought having occurred to him, he had it proclaimed throughout his kingdom that he would give a great reward to anyone who would teach him what was the right time for every action, and who were the most necessary people, and how he might know what was the most important thing to do.

And learned men came to the King, but they all answered his questions differently.

In reply to the first question, some said that to know the right time for every action, one must draw up in advance, a table of days, months and years, and must live strictly according to it. Only thus, said they, could everything be done at its proper time. Others declared that it was impossible to decide beforehand the right time for every action; but that, not letting oneself be absorbed in idle pastimes, one should always attend to all that was going on, and then do what was most needful. Others, again, said that however attentive the King might be to what was going on, it was impossible for one man to decide correctly the right time for every action, but that he should have a Council of wise men, who would help him to fix the proper time for everything.

But then again others said there were some things which could not wait to be laid before a Council, but about which one had at once to decide whether to undertake them or not. But in order to decide that, one must know beforehand what was going to happen. It is only magicians who know that; and, therefore, in order to know the right time for every action, one must consult magicians.

Equally various were the answers to the second question. Some said, the people the King most needed were his councillors; others, the priests; others, the doctors; while some said the warriors were the most necessary.

To the third question, as to what was the most important occupation: some replied that the most important thing in the world was science. Others said it was skill in warfare; and others, again, that it was religious worship.

All the answers being different, the King agreed with none of them, and gave the reward to none. But still wishing to find the right answers to his questions, he decided to consult a hermit, widely renowned for his wisdom.

The hermit lived in a wood that he never quitted, and he received none but common folk. So the King put on simple clothes, and before reaching the hermit's cell dismounted from his horse, and, leaving his body-guard behind, went on alone.

When the King approached, the hermit was digging the ground in front of his hut. Seeing the King, he greeted him and went on digging. The hermit was frail and weak, and each time he stuck his spade into the ground and turned a little earth, he breathed heavily.

The King went up to him and said: "I have come to you, wise hermit, to ask you to answer three questions: How can I learn to do the right thing at the right time? Who are the people I most need, and to whom should I, therefore, pay more attention than to the rest? And, what affairs are the most important, and need my first attention?"

The hermit listened to the King, but answered nothing. He just spat on his hand and recommenced digging.

"You are tired," said the King, "let me take the spade and work awhile for you."

"Thanks!" said the hermit, and, giving the spade to the King, he sat down on the ground.

When he had dug two beds, the King stopped and repeated his questions. The hermit again gave no answer, but rose, stretched out his hand for the spade, and said:

"Now rest awhile - and let me work a bit."

But the King did not give him the spade, and continued to dig. One hour passed, and another. The sun began to sink behind the trees, and the King at last stuck the spade into the ground, and said:

"I came to you, wise man, for an answer to my questions. If you can give me none, tell me so, and I will return home."

"Here comes someone running," said the hermit, "let us see who it is."

The King turned round, and saw a bearded man come running out of the wood. The man held his hands pressed against his stomach, and blood was flowing from under them. When he reached the King, he fell fainting on the ground moaning feebly. The King and the hermit unfastened the man's clothing. There was a large wound in his stomach. The King washed it as best he could, and bandaged it with his handkerchief and with a towel the hermit had. But the blood would not stop flowing. The King repeatedly removed the bandage soaked with warm blood, and washed and re-bandaged the wound. When at last the blood ceased flowing, the man revived and asked for something to drink. The King brought fresh water and gave it to him. Meanwhile the sun had set, and it had become cool. So the King, with the hermit's help, carried the wounded man into the hut and laid him on the bed. Lying on the bed the man closed his eyes and was quiet; but the King was so tired with his walk and with the work he had done, that he crouched down on the threshold, and also fell asleep--so soundly that he slept all through the short summer night. When he awoke in the morning, it was long before he could remember where he was, or who was the strange bearded man lying on the bed and gazing intently at him with shining eyes.

"Forgive me!" said the bearded man in a weak voice, when he saw that the King was awake and was looking at him.

"I do not know you, and have nothing to forgive you for," said the King.

"You do not know me, but I know you. I am that enemy of yours who swore to revenge himself on you, because you executed his brother and seized his property. I knew you had gone alone to see the hermit, and I resolved to kill you on your way back. But the day passed and you did not return. So I came out from my ambush to find you, and I came upon your bodyguard, and they recognized me, and wounded me. I escaped from them, but should have bled to death had you not dressed my wound. I wished to kill you, and you have saved my life. Now, if I live, and if you wish it, I will serve you as your most faithful slave, and will bid my sons do the same. Forgive me!"

The King was very glad to have made peace with his enemy so easily, and to have gained him for a friend, and he not only forgave him, but also said he would send his servants and his own physician to attend him, and promised to restore his property.

Having taken leave of the wounded man, the King went out into the porch and looked around for the hermit. Before going away, he wished once more to beg an answer to the questions he had put. The hermit was outside, on his knees, sowing seeds in the beds that had been dug the day before.

The King approached him, and said:

"For the last time, I pray you to answer my questions, wise man."

"You have already been answered!" said the hermit, still crouching on his thin legs, and looking up at the King, who stood before him.

"How have I answered? What do you mean?" asked the King.

"Do you not see," replied the hermit. "If you had not pitied my weakness yesterday, and had not dug those beds for me, but had gone your way, that man would have attacked you, and you would have repented of not having stayed with me. So the most important time was when you were digging the beds; and I was the most important person; and to do me good was your most important business. Afterwards when that man ran to us, the most important time was when you were attending to him, for if you had not bound up his wounds he would have died without having made peace with you. So he was the most important person, and what you did for him was your most important business. Remember then: there is only one time that is important - Now! It is the most important time because it is the only time when we have any power. The most necessary person is he who is front of you, for no one knows whether they will ever have dealings with anyone else: and the most important affair is, to do good, because for that purpose alone were people sent into this life!"

COMMENTARY

Leo Tolstoy wrote this beautiful story, and in 1903, he submitted it along with two others to a volume on behalf of persecuted Jews of Russia, especially those attacked that year in the terrible pogroms at Kishinev. Other distinguished authors, including Chekhov, freely offered manuscripts for the proposed book. Tolstoy's three brief stories for this purpose were

translated into Yiddish by the eminent Jewish writer Sholom Aleichem and appeared in a volume published in Warsaw.

The story is used with a modern adaptation by Ajahn Brahm in his fine book, Opening the Door to Your Heart, 2004, pp112-116. He summarises this message from Tolstoy over 100 years ago, and describes how it changed the life of one former school Principal in Perth, Western Australia, who resigned from teaching and admin and devoted her life to setting up programs for street kids, drug addicts, underage sex workers, to help give them purpose and a new start in life.

The important thing to notice is that in the story he King learns he answers to his questions by actions, not by theorizing or listening to his advisers and experts. He actually knows the answers intuitively and demonstrates them in his actions, before he actually formulates them as verbal answers. Like the young nobleman in the first chapter, he learns the lesson through doing, through his actions. This is why the lessons are so profound and meaningful for them, because they directly experience the solutions through action, not through theory.

Similarly, Tetsugen, the monk in our previous story (Chapter 23) also demonstrates in his actions the same fundamental message that Tolstoy expresses:

1. When is the most important time for Tetsugen? Is it in the future, when the sutras will be copied and distributed and the beneficiaries are receiving the treasure of Buddha- dharma? No, it is now. He sees the people starving and sick, and responds to their needs immediately. He uses the funds he has taken 10 years and then 5 years to raise, forgets about all his past efforts, and helps the people immediately. Their need is the most urgent as they are suffering now.

2. Who are the most important people to Tetsugen? Is it himself and his life’s ambition to raise the funds and publish the sutras, and so increase his merit and prestige? No. Is it donors and the future beneficiaries, who will receive the merit and treasure of Buddha dharma through the distributed sutras? No, their benefits can wait.

The most important people to Tetsugen are those in front of him who are starving, suffering and sick and need immediate care and attention.

3. What is the most important thing for him to do? Carry on with the project and get the sutras copied and distributed? No. The answer is, to listen to his heart or Buddha-nature and care for those who are starving, suffering and sick, immediately, so that is what he does. Caring for others is the priority.

The twentieth century Zen Master Kosho Uchiyama Roshi describes Zen meditation as a process of waking up to the reality of the present moment. Zen Master Dōgen writing in the 13th Century describes an exchange that perfectly illustrates the importance of facing the reality of the present situation, and how to deal with aspirations for a liberated state of transcendence.

A monk asks Master Tozan (Tung Shan):

“When cold or heat come our way, how do we avoid them?” The master replied, “Why don’t you proceed to that place where there is no heat or cold” The monk then asked, “What is that place where there is no heat or cold?” The master answered, “When it is cold, my acharya, give yourself up to the cold, When it is hot, my acharya, give yourself up to the heat.”

(Translation of Dōgen’s Spring and Autumn (Shunju) Chapter 64 of Shobogenzo is at http://www.thezensite.com/ZenTeachings/Dogen_Teachings/Shobogenzo/064shunju.pdf)

The monk’s question is really about how to escape the suffering of samsāra and find liberation. The Master seems to direct him to a transcendent liberated state, a Nirvāna which is beyond suffering. Only to withdraw the possibility, and point to liberation by confronting the reality of the present moment and finding acceptance of that reality and its suffering as the way to really overcome it. This again is a typical Zen statement of radical immanence. It is saying that ultimately samsāra and nirvāna are not to be differentiated. By seeing samsāra from a non- dualistic viewpoint and not discriminating, or grasping after putative states of peace or bliss when you’re suffering. Then you find that there is peaceful repose even in the cold of winter, and in the heat of summer.

The importance of the now or the reality of the present moment is also apparent in the story of The Game of Chess (Chapter 1). The rich young nobleman’s entire life and its meaning, become concentrated into the present reality of a game of chess. That is certainly the most important time for him.

The answer to the King’s second question is also addressed in the same story. The most important person for the nobleman is the monk he is playing against in the game of chess. Initially of course, it is himself, because he is playing for his life. His perspective and priorities change in the course of the game.

The young nobleman in the game of chess also resolves the third question. At the start of the game, he thinks that the most important thing for him to do is win the game, save his life and become apprenticed to the Master. By the end of the game, he has realized that this isn’t the case. The most important thing for him to do is to show compassion, and in doing so, he thinks he will lose his life. But in losing self-importance and showing that he cares for another and is not prepared to see his opponent die, he shows that he has listened to his heart or Buddha- nature and learned the lesson of caring for others.

SOURCES FOR THE STORIES

Note: I have extensively paraphrased or re-written all of the stories in this collection, for emphasis and clarity, but always adhered to the central ideas and narrative. The exception to this is The King’s Three Questions by Tolstoy, the original title is, “Three Questions”. This story has only been slightly rephrased in places, and adheres closely to the English translation of the great writer’s original Russian story. Stories from film narratives are fully referenced.

Many of the stories are available in variant forms in different publications, though some were first made known to me in oral versions, and I managed to identify published versions later. Where the story only exist s in oral form, this is indicated. Where a story is from personal experience, this is also indicated.

Chapter 1: A Game of Chess

Trevor LEGGET A First Zen Reader Charles E. Tuttle Company, Vermont, USA, 1960

Chapter 2: Kisagotami: Facing Death and Impermanence

Eugene Watson BURLINGAME Buddhist Parables Yale University Press, 1922 & reprint by Motilal Banarsidas Publishers Pvt. Ltd. 1999 (The Parable of the Mustard Seed)

Eugene Watson BURLINGAME Treasury of Buddhist Stories from the Dhammapada Commentary Buddhist Publication Society, Kandy, Sri Lanka, 1996

Edwin Arthur BURTT (ed) The Teachings of the Compassionate Buddha Mentor, New American Library, New York 1955, & Penguin (USA) reprint 2000

Lucian STRYK (ed) The World of the Buddha Doubleday, New York, 1968.

Chapter 3: A Truckload of Dung, or “Shit Happens”

Ajahn BRAHM Opening the Door of Your Heart Lothian Books, Melbourne, 2006

Chapter 4 The Great Ape Jataka

Caroline A.F. RHYS-DAVIDS (trans/ed) Stories of the Buddha. Being Selections from the Jataka Chapman & Hall, London 1929, Reprint: Dover Publications Inc. New York, 1989

Chapter 5: The Cane Drinking Jataka

Caroline A.F. RHYS-DAVIDS (trans/ed) Stories of the Buddha. Being Selections from the Jataka Chapman & Hall, London 1929, Reprint: Dover Publications Inc. New York, 1989

Chapter 6: The Blind Men and the Elephant

This traditional Indian story appears in many forms in Jain, Buddhist, Hindu and Sufi teachings. For a comparison of several versions, source references and background information see Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blind_men_and_an_elephant

For Kalama Sutta see: " Kalama Sutta: To the Kalamas" (Anguttara Nikaya 3.65), translated from the Pali by Thanissaro Bhikkhu. Access to Insight, June 8, 2010, http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/an/an03/an03.065.than.html.. .

Or: http://www.what-buddha- taught.net/Books5/Bhikkhu_Buddhadasa_Help_The_Kalama_Sutta_Help.htm

See also discussion in Wikipedia: Kalama sutta

And:

David LOY “The Karma of the Rings. A Myth for Modern Buddhism” in Jonathan S. WATTS (ed) Rethinking Karma Silkworm Books, Bangkok, 2009

“Not far from Buddhahood”

This story appears in Paul Reps (ed). Zen Flesh Zen Bones Charles E Tuttle Co. Inc 1957, Pelican reprint 1971, Story No. 16, p30

Chapter 7: The Man Wounded by an Arrow, or Questions Which Do Not Help Gain Spiritual Release

There are many excellent accounts and discussions of this incident from the Pali Canon (Middle Length Sayings of the Buddha, Majjhima nikaya, Sutta No. 64)

See: Buddhist Scriptures online http://www2.fodian.net/world/

At: http://www.metta.lk/tipitaka/2Sutta-Pitaka/2Majjhima-Nikaya/Majjhima2/064-cula- malunkhyaputta-e1.html

Chapter 8: Buddhist Science Fiction and an Ecological Message

Translation of full text of Agganna Sutta ( sutta No. 27 of Digha Nikaya (Dialogues of the Buddha Part 3, by T.W & C.A,F Rhys-Davids (1921) is available at Buddhist Library online: http://www.buddhistlibraryonline.net/en/the-teachings/suttapitaka/dig

Or at: http://www.metta.lk/tipitaka/2Sutta-Pitaka/1Digha-Nikaya/index.html

Aganna Sutta is sutta No 27 in Digha Nikaya, Volume 3

or access Digha Nikaya through: http://www.fodian.net/world/

An edited version of the Rhys-Davids translation can be found in:

Trevor LING (ed) The Buddha’s Philosophy of Man J.M. Dent & Sons Ltd, London 1981 part 2, pp 101-113.

Also, Agganna sutta: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Agga%C3%B1%C3%B1a_Sutta

Chapter 9: Respect Your Teacher

Thanapol (Lamduan) CHAICHAIDEE (Ed. & Trans.) Fascinating Folktales of Thailand (in Thai and English. 5th Edition 2552 (2009) D.K Today Co.Ltd., Bangkok, Thailand. The title chapter in the above volume is “Ungrateful Man” (ch3).

The additional story of the incident in Bangkok is a personal story, told to me by a Bangkok based Chinese Martial Arts Teacher, who wishes to remain anonymous.

Chapter 10: Nanda and the Heavenly Maidens

Peter MASEFIELD (trans) The Udana Vol 1, Pali Text Society, Oxford, 1994, Ch 3, pp39-43

Peter MASEFIELD (trans) The Udana Pali Text Society, Oxford 1997 (Nanda suttam 22)

Chapter 11: Diamond Cuts Diamond, or The Taste of Curry and the Value of Money

Thanapol (Lamduan) CHAICHAIDEE (Ed. & Trans.) Fascinating Folktales of Thailand

(in Thai and English. 5th Edition 2552 (2009) D.K Today Co.Ltd., Bangkok, Thailand. Ch4

A slightly different version of the above story was told to me in Issan. In this version, the arbitrator was a wise monk, not the village chief.

Chapter 12: The Exorcist

Ajahn BRAHM Opening the Door of Your Heart Lothian Books, Melbourne, 2006 p149

Chapter 13: The Prodigal Son

This story is from chapter 4 (Belief and Understanding) of the Lotus Sutra (Saddharamapundarika sutra) which is the main Mahayana text expounding the theory and practice of Skilful Means. It is an influential text in Tibetan and East Asian Buddhism.

Various translations can be found at:

www.fodian.net/world/Lotus sutra and in:

Edwin Arthur BURTT (ed) The Teachings of the Compassionate Buddha Mentor, New American Library, New York 1955, & Penguin (USA) reprint 2000, Bk2 Part 4, along with other Skilful Means stories from the Lotus Sutra.

Chapter 14: The Tea Master and the Samurai

A recent re-telling of the story can be found in:

Harris FRIEDMAN “Problems of Romanticism in Transpersonal Psychology: A Case Study of Aikido” in The Humanistic Psychologist 33 (1) pp3-24, 2005, Lawrence Erlbaum Associates Inc. page 16.

Chapter 15: The Tea Master and the Assassin

Paul REPS Zen Flesh, Zen Bones Story No. 57, Charles E Tuttle Inc 1957, & Penguin Books UK 1971

Chapter 16: The Art of Fighting Without Fighting

Daisetsu Teitaro SUZUKI Zen & Japanese Culture Princeton University Press 1959 pp 128-129

Also in:

Stewart McFARLANE “Fighting Bodhisattvas and Inner Warriors: Buddhism and the Martial traditions of China and Japan” Buddhist Forum, Volume 3, 1991-1993. D. Seyforth-Ruegg Felicitation Volume (ed) T. Skorupski and Ulrich Pagel, SOAS,1994, pp 185-210.

Note also the same story is used in modified version in Bruce Lee’s final film

ENTER THE DRAGON 1973 Dir: Robert Clouse, Company:Warner Bros Productions

The story of the Bus Driver, who was a student of Gusukuma Shinpan Sensei on Okinawa can be found at:

http://www.shidokankaratedojo.com/Shinpan%20Gusukuma%20Sensei.htm

The other story of another drunk on a bus can be found at: http://www.huntsab.org/fighting%20without%20fighting.pdf

See also the drunk on the bus at: http://books.google.co.th/books?id=9sFsXNAxfsIC&pg=PA18&lpg=PA18&dq=aikido+story,+Jap anese+drunk+on+a+bus&source

Chapter 17: The Compassion and Skilfulness of Dirty Harry

Dirty Harry 1971 Starring Clint Eastwood, Dir/Pro: Don Siegel, Distr: Warner Bros.

Chapter 18: Conflict Resolution and Skilfulness Demonstrated by the Dalai Lama’s Security Guard

Source: personal experience

Chapter 19: Angulimala: A Buddhist Transformation Story Conveying the Complexities of Karma

Buddhist Scriptures in Multiple Languages: http://www.fodian.net/world/

MAJJHIMA NIKAYA (Middle Length Sayings) II, II. 4. 6. Angulimàlasutta (86)

Also in: The Dhammapada Verses & Stories trans. Daw Mya TIN

Sri Satguru Publications, Indian Books Centre, (reprint edition Delhi, 1990, Verse173, Section: 13, pp 312-315.

Chapter 20: The Fisherman and the Businessman: Buddhism and Wealth

Ajahn BRAHM Opening the Door of Your Heart Lothian Books, Melbourne, 2006

(Story: The Mexican fisherman p167)

Chapter 21: The Cabbage Leaf in the Stream: Buddhism and Work

The Story of the Cabbage Leaf in the Stream can be found in:

Ven. Sunyana GRAEF The foundations of ecology in Zen Buddhism

In: Religious Education, Vol. 85 Issue 1 Winter.1990, Pp.42-48

Also at: http://ccbs.ntu.edu.tw/FULLTEXT/JR-ADM/graef.htm

Quotes from the works of Dogen and insights from Kosho Uchiyama’s commentary are in:

Dogen Zenji & Kosho Uchiyama Roshi, trans. Thomas Wright: From the Zen Kitchen to Enlightenment, Refining your life Weatherhill Inc, New York. 2001

See also: Tenzo kyokun: Instructions for the Tenzo by Eihei Dogen zenji translated by Yasuda Joshu Dainen roshi and Anzan Hoshin roshi

(published in "Cooking Zen," Great Matter Publications 1996) at: http://www.wwzc.org/book/tenzo-kyokun-instructions-tenzo-0

Chapter 22: Bodhidharma and the Emperor Wu: Merit Making, the Buddhist Path and the Nature of Reality

Trevor LEGGET A First Zen Reader Charles E. Tuttle Company,Vermont, USA, 1960

Daisetsu Teitaro SUZUKI Essays in Zen Buddhism First Series, New York: Grove Press 1927 p189

Daisetsu Teitaro SUZUKI Essays in Zen Buddhism Third Series, Rider Books, London, 1953/1970 p.305

Chapter 23: Publishing the Sutras

Paul REPS Zen Flesh, Zen Bones Story No. 37. Charles E Tuttle Inc, USA 1957, Penguin Books UK 1971

Chapter 24: The Kings Three Questions

The original story by Tolstoy is reproduced here with minimal changes, from: http://www.online-literature.com/tolstoy/2736.

Title: Three Questions.

Ajahn Brahm tells his own version of this story in: Ajahn BRAHM Opening the Door of Your Heart Lothian Books, Melbourne, 2006, page 112.

REFERENCES, FURTHER SOURCES AND MATERIALS

INTRODUCTION http://www.buddhistethics.org/5/reeve981.html

Chapter 1: A Game of Chess

Translation of Genjo Koan that is chapter 3 of Shobogenzo by Dogen Zenji translated by Rev. Hubert Nearman, Shasta Abbey, California, can be found here: http://www.thezensite.com/ZenTeachings/Dogen_Teachings/Shobogenzo/003genjo.pdf

Chapter 4: The Grate Ape Jataka

For a detailed account of sila, samadhi and panna, the core elements of the Buddhist Eightfold Path, see Ch2, P. HARVEY (ed). Continuum, UK, 2001, pp 86-90)

Chapter 7: The Man Wounded by an Arrow, or Questions Which Do Not Help Gain Spiritual Release

Search in Google/Yahoo etc for “Malankyaputta, Unanswered Questions”

Also see: Walpola RAHULA What The Buddha Taught Chapter 1, Grove Press, New York, 1959 & revised edn 1974

Or see above book on line:http://buddhasociety.com/online-books/what-buddha-taught- walpola-rahula-9-2

Or: http://www.samadhi- buddha.org/Theravada/Books/WalpolaRahula/What_the_Buddha_Taught%28eng%29.pdf

Also:

See discussion and text at: http://www.as.miami.edu/phi/bio/Buddha/questions.htm

For a full translation account of the Buddha’s refusal to answer Vacchagotta’s question, “Is there a self?”

See:

"Ananda Sutta: To Ananda" (Samyutta Nikaya 44.10), translated from the Pali by Thanissaro Bhikkhu. Access to Insight, July 1, 2010, http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/sn/sn44/sn44.010.than.html.

For a full translation of the Buddha’s detailed teaching to Potthapada see: http://www.metta.lk/tipitaka/2Sutta-Pitaka/1Digha-Nikaya/Digha1/09-potthapada-e.html or see: "Potthapada Sutta: About Potthapada" (Digha Nikaya 9), translated from the Pali by Thanissaro Bhikkhu. Access to Insight, June 8, 2010, http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/dn/dn.09.0.than.html.

For a full translation of Majjhima Nikaya 2.72 Aggi Vachagotta sutta, see: http://www.metta.lk/tipitaka/2Sutta-Pitaka/2Majjhima-Nikaya/Majjhima2/072-aggi- vacchagotta-e1.html

Chapter 8: Buddhist Science Fiction and an Ecological Message

Rupert GETHIN, “Cosmology and meditation: from the Agganna-Sutta to the Mahayana. (Buddhism)” in History of Religions, Vol.36 No.3 (Feb 1997) pp.183-217

Online at: http://ccbs.ntu.edu.tw/FULLTEXT/JR-EPT/rupert.htm

For a discussion of Aggañña sutta as a parody of the Brahmin creation story and a critique of Brahminism, see:

R.F. GOMBRICH How Buddhism Began Ch 3 pp81-83, Athlone Press, 1996, London & New Jersey

Ian Charles HARRIS "How Environmentalistic is Buddhism?" Religion 1991, Vol 21, pp101-114.

Ian Charles HARRIS “Buddhism” in Jean Holm & John Bowker (eds) Attitudes to Nature 1994 London: Pinter Publishers, Ch1, pp 8-27.

Ian Charles HARRIS “Buddhist Environmental Ethics and Detraditionalisation: The Case of EcoBuddhism” Religion 1995 Vol 25, pp199-211

Ian Charles HARRIS Buddhism and Ecology” in Damien Keown (ed) Contemporary Buddhist Ethics 2000 London,Curzon Press, Ch 5, pp113-135