I have a question: What is going on with the brouhaha over Dorje Shugden and the row between the Dalai Lama and the New Kadampa Tradition? (if this is too detailed a question for your site, that’s totally fine.)
My response:
It’s a big question, one that may be beyond the scope of this site, but here’s the story in a nutshell.
The New Kadampa Tradition was founded by Geshe Kelseng Gyatso in 1991 as a sort of offshoot of the Tibetan school of Buddhism. They grew rapidly, having dozens schools across the globe. The leader of the Tibetans was, and still is, the Dalai Lama. At first, the Dalai Lama approved of the new offshoot sect, but somewhere down the line, things changed. Kelsan Gyatso accused the D.L. of not doing enough to regain control of Tibet, while some Dalai Lama supporters have gone so far as to say the Chinese government is backing the NKT to make the D.L. look ineffectual. The competition between the two men continued, culminating with the Dalai Lama essentially saying “They’re not with me anymore,” and breaking the connections.
There are quite a lot of detractors out there calling the NKT nothing more than a cult. They have a single charismatic leader, and they teach only his words. In the bookstores they operate, they sell only his books, and literally threw out all the books by other teachers and traditions. Questions and discussion are discouraged; openness is frowned upon. There are even “recovery groups” that have sprung up for people who have gotten out of the group. Nonetheless, they are still growing rapidly, and are quite successful financially. They seem to actually be doing some good.
Is it a cult? Is it a valid Tibetan splinter-group? I’m not going to get in the middle of this battle, but that’s the overview. Do your own research and post your thoughts below. Just to start you off, here’s a BBC documentary that will introduce you to the situation:
We’ve talked about this a number of times before, but it keeps coming up, so at the very least, that means there a lot of wanna-be new Buddhists out there. That’s a good thing!
Although there are some traditions or denominations of Buddhism that have a very specific conversion process, such as the Tibetan approach, most don’t have a bunch of rules on the subject. It’s not like you can send away for a diploma or certificate that says “Now I am a Buddhist.”
Generally speaking, at least the way I look at it, Buddhism is not so much about what you believe, as it is about what you do. To use an old Christian expression, it’s about “Works,” not “Faith.” Or more technically, Buddhism is a religion of practice, not beliefs. If you agree with the Four Noble Truths, and try to live your life in agreement with the Eightfold Path, and the Precepts, then you are a Buddhist. Even then, you are allowed occasional failures.
That being said, you do need to understand what you mean by calling yourself a Buddhist. It’s an ongoing process of education and meditation for most. There are a number of good introductory books on the topic, including the one at the top of this page. There are many good websites as well. Learn about it. Keep on learning about it. But the only real rule is that you need to start acting and behaving as a Buddhist.
It really is as simple as that; You’re a Buddhist if you act like one. Also keep in mind that most Buddhists are lay practitioners, not priests or monks. You don’t have to be like those guys, at least not unless you really want to. Just do the best you can; relieve suffering, help others, be mindful. This is Buddhism.
Here are some links to older discussions on the topic:
Sen-no Rikyu, a tea-master, wished to hang a flower basket on a column. he asked a carpenter to help him, directing the man to place it a little higher or lower, to the right or left, until he had found exactly the right spot. “That’s the place,” said Sen-no Rikyu at long last.
The carpenter, to test the master, marked the spot and then pretended he had forgotten. “Was this the place, perhaps?” the carpenter kept asking, pointing to various places on the column.
But so accurate was the tea-master’s sense of proportion that it was not until the carpenter reached the identical spot again that its location was approved.
This one is the second guest posting by Dr. Douglas Gentile, who writes the American Buddhist blog at usbuddhist.blogspot.com. He has been training in multiple Buddhist traditions since about 1989. In his professional life he is an award-winning researcher, author, and university professor. His previous guest post on the DailyBuddhism was “What Does Meditation Do?”
Ernest Hemingway and Emptiness (Shunyata)
By Douglas Gentile
In 1933, Ernest Hemmingway wrote a three-page short story, titled A Clean, Well-Lighted Place. It’s a masterpiece of writing technique, and valuable for study simply for that. But for such a short piece, it is a profound description of the human condition as it relates to the Buddhist concept of Śūnyatā, which is often translated as emptiness or nothingness.
Westerners often become acquainted with this when hearing how Buddhists talk about non-self or egolessness. This is a difficult concept, and it usually gets misinterpreted in one of at least two ways. It can sound like Buddhists think you don’t actually exist, or that Buddhism is nihilistic and that there is no meaning to anything. This is incorrect. Buddhism does not deny that you or anything else exists, but instead that everything exists dependently on everything else and is constantly changing – so there isn’t a solid “thing” that is you. You are different in each new situation and with each passing moment. Furthermore, this understanding makes it clear that everything is actually much moremeaningful than we usually realize. If we are interconnected with everything else, then our actions matter for more than just ourselves.
Nonetheless, it is definitely disconcerting when you stare this truth in the face. Realizing that everything you think you are is not accurate, that there is nothing solid and unchanging, and that there is nothing about you that is really “you” can be terrifying. What happens when you come face to face with this nothingness? Hemmingway describes three paths. I recommend reading the story right now by clicking here.
There are three characters, the old man customer, the young waiter, and the old waiter. Each has a different approach to dealing with the inherent emptiness of existence.
The Old Man
“Last week he tried to commit suicide,” one waiter said.
“Why?”
“He was in despair.”
“What about?”
“Nothing.”
Facing the inherent instability of existence, what Pema Chodron often calls “groundlessness,” the “fundamental ambiguity,” or sometimes the “fundamental anxiety of being human,” is scary. I had a student who could easily be reduced to a terrified puddle of nonfunctionality any time she considered the fragility of her existence. Indeed, there are whole branches of psychology (e.g., Terror Management Theory) devoted to describing this fear and our reaction to it. The old man typifies one reaction – he despairs.
“He’s drunk now,” he said.
“He’s drunk every night.”
The old man tries to numb himself to the nothingness, and when even that doesn’t work, he leaps into it trying to annihilate himself.
The Young Waiter
“I wish he would go home. I never get to bed before three o’clock. What kind of hour is that to go to bed?”
“He stays up because he likes it.”
“He’s lonely. I’m not lonely. I have a wife waiting in bed for me.”
The young waiter exemplifies another typical response – he works harder to hold onto his selfish point of view. He clings to the perception that his way of seeing things is right and others are the selfish ones.
“I wouldn’t want to be that old. An old man is a nasty thing.”
“Not always. This old man is clean. He drinks without spilling. Even now, drunk. Look at him.”
“I don’t want to look at him. I wish he would go home. He has no regard for those who must work.”
He refuses to look at truth. Although the young waiter will get old like the customer, he wants instead only to rush off, distracting himself constantly and believing that his point of view is solid. When confronted with the difficulties of life, compassion, and uncertainty, he rejects them and cloaks himself in confidence.
“No,” the waiter who was in a hurry said, rising from pulling down the metal shutters. “I have confidence. I am all confidence.”
The young waiter is a personification of Avidyā, or ignorance. Traditionally, this is one of the “three poisons,” and is taken to mean a fundamental misunderstanding of the self as separate and solid. This is the not-knowing aspect of ignorance. The young waiter also demonstrates another aspect, however – the ignoring aspect of ignorance. He clings to his perceptions and actively ignores seeing anything else.
The Old Waiter
“I am of those who like to stay late at the café,” the older waiter said. “With all those who do not want to go to bed. With all those who need a light for the night.”
“I want to go home and into bed.”
“We are of two different kinds,” the older waiter said. He was now dressed to go home. “it is not only a question of youth and confidence although those things are very beautiful. Each night I am reluctant to close up because there may be some one who needs the café.”
The old waiter demonstrates a more mature and wise approach. He does not deny the fear that comes with the fundamental groundlessness of existence – indeed, he feels it deeply.
What did he fear? It was not a fear or dread. It was a nothing that he knew too well. It was all a nothing and a man was a nothing too. It was only that and light was all it needed and a certain cleanness and order. Some lived in it and never felt it but he knew it was all nada y pues nada y nada y pues nada. Our nada who art in nada, nada be thy name…
This is perhaps a type of right view – seeing things as they are. There is nothing to hold on to, and there is nothing outside ourselves that can fix that. Nonetheless, shining a light on it helps – in contrast to ignoring it or masking it with external stimulation and diversion (“Certainly you do not want music.”) You want to stand before it with dignity, and when you do you see that it is not as scary as it first seems. In fact, it has a type of orderliness to it that can be reassuring. Some of the fear comes from the words we use – we focus on words like emptiness, nothingness, and groundlessness. Instead, we could just as easily say “freedom.” Because we are not solid, we have much more freedom to act, react, and feel than we usually believe.
He disliked bars and bodegas. A clean, well-lighted café was a very different thing. Now, without thinking further, he would go home to his room. He would lie in the bed and finally, with daylight, he would go to sleep. After all, he said to himself, it’s probably only insomnia. Many must have it.
The old waiter still feels the anxiety. He cannot sleep in the dark. But he also recognizes that he is not alone – many must have this fear. For me, here is the heart of this parable. The old waiter not only can accept his own anxiety, but he has compassion for all others and the ways in which they deal with it, and he is willing to stay open later at night in case there is one whom he can help. This is the bodhisattva ideal – that as we achieve enlightenment, we remain open to help others who can benefit from it.
Yesterday we talked briefly about Bardo, which is a Tibetan concept and involves the afterlife.
I tend to lean more toward the Zen methods, and easily the most famous, most well-respected Zen teacher today is Thich Nhat Hanh. We’ve discussed him here before many times, most notably back when I introduced the Five Precepts. He’s a great man, and very entertaining as well. Here’s a LONG video of him discussing the Zen thoughts concerning Birth and Death. It’s roughly an hour and 40 minutes, so maybe you don’t want to watch this one at work.
His accent is a little hard to follow at times, but if you stick with him, you’ll be fine. Enjoy!
I am 17 years old. I have been alone for the last few months, doing a lot of thinking. I am realizing that I am very different from all of the people around me, and that after I have finished my school I would like to leave western society and practice spirituality. I have been reading a lot from the Tibetan book of the dead, and a lot of writings by different authors about the stages of Bardo, which brings me to what I would like to talk about. I am worried I will have a unpleasant journey through the afterlife because I have killed innocent creatures in the past for no reason. I feel very remorseful of this and would devote my life to peace to make up for it, I know that what I did is not who I am, It was wrong and I feel terrible. It was almost a year ago, but I wish to make it right somehow.
However, I have read that no matter how experienced you have become in spiritual travel, if you have unethically harmed the innocent you will have a negative afterlife experience. But I think that if I show brightness to all, for the rest of my days, and be a good loving human, my horrible actions of the past can be overcome by love and happiness. But this is all my own research, I have never had the opportunity to speak with someone who is educated with this kind of stuff, I am the only person I know that thinks like this, therefore I have pushed away all my friends. So it is just me all day alone with my thoughts. And I’ve realized that I want to become a Buddhist. I really need to talk to someone who knows about this.
My Response:
It sounds like you have the right idea about harming innocents and making up for it. There’s no way to know exactly HOW karma works, but it is certainly possible to keep working at it and improve your karmic balance. It depends heavily on the “bad things” that you did, but where there’s life, there is always a chance to reverse things. You realize now that whatever you did was wrong, and that realization alone means a lot.
No matter what you did, no matter how bad it was, working toward positive outcomes and living a life of peace will move your karmic balance in a positive direction. Can you make up for what you did? I don’t know; maybe, maybe not. You’re definitely not past redemption, if that’s what you’re asking.
Now, onto specifics. You mention “Bardo,” and I should probably explain that to everyone. The idea of Bardo is, as you said, a Tibetan concept. It’s roughly similar to the idea of a “Purgatory,” or middle area between two rebirths. It’s an intermediate state between two lives.
Just keep in mind that this is primarily a Tibetan thing; many Buddhists reject the idea of an afterlife, just assuming that rebirth happens quickly and simply. This is my view. The whole idea of a staging ground to punish and purify souls just seems very complex and hard to support in my opinion. Is there an intermediate stage between lives? I can’t say, but it seems unlikely to me that it’s anything elaborate.
Back in the old days, I’d post the weekly podcast on Saturdays, including any announcements or status reports that came up that week. Well, as you know, I’m not currently doing the podcasts anymore (although I’m reconsidering). Still, I’m going to do the occasional Saturday post of announcements or miscellaneous topics. That’s what this is.
The Site:
The Daily Buddhism has been back for three weeks, and everything is going well on this end. As I said back in my “Returning” post, I have quite the backlog of reader questions, but they’re starting to get thin. I need your requests and questions… What do you readers want to see here?
Podcasts:
I am considering bringing back the weekly podcasts, but I need something to work with… Let me know.
Book(s):
The Five-Minute Buddhist has been selling well, and has surprised me in its popularity. For a first book, it’s really taking off. You can find it in paperback format here or Kindle format here. I’m working on getting it listed though iBooks and a few other places as well. I have already started on the sequel, focusing entirely on the topic of meditation, and consisting of 100% new material. It should be available in the spring.
Mailing List/Updates
Up until my long break, I posted my daily posts on the blog and also sent them out to a long list of mailing list subscribers. You could get “A daily dose of Buddhist wisdom in your email box” After a few years of inactivity, I assumed it would be inappropriate to start sending out emails to such an old mailing list, so I deactivated it. The daily posts ARE still available by email, but you’ll need to sign up for them again on the blog. Look in the upper right-hand corner of the sight and sign up. It’s free and you’ll only get one message a day.
Another Site:
I’m also working on another site which may be of interest to you. Free Stuff Bulletin is a daily blog post/newsletter about free stuff. Really free stuff, I promise. No bait-and-switch, no catch, no strings. You may not be interested in every item every day, but there’s plenty of good stuff for everyone. We’ve had everything from free cookies to free pipe tobacco (on Monday), so watch the site. Here’s the contact info:
I’m just starting a new interest in Buddhism but I’m gay and I read that the Dali Lama thinks homosexuality is wrong for Buddhists. How should I handle that?
My Response:
I did a post on this back in 2008, and most of it is still true. As far as I know, the Dalai Lama has not changed his tune on gay folks. That being said, since I wrote that in 2008, LGBT people have made great progress both politically and socially. The most obvious sign of this is the growing acceptance of same-sex marriages, with more states allowing it all the time.
Keep in mind that Buddhism is heavily dependent on local customs. I hesitate to put this too simply, but right and wrong are often relative to the culture in question. What’s morally acceptable in one place may not be acceptable elsewhere.
The Dalai Lama is from Tibet. He used to be the “King” of Tibet. If anyone gets to say what is or isn’t proper in Tibet, it’s him. American culture, on the other hand, is not Tibetan culture. I believe that the Dalai Lama wants to reduce the level of suffering of his people, and he believes that being gay causes suffering. In Tibet, that may well be very true. In America, 20 years ago, that was often true as well. Today? Not as much.
Going all the way back to the foundations of Buddhism, the Four Noble Truths, the goal of all of Buddhism is to end or reduce suffering. If Homosexuality is considered evil and wrong by most of society, then an LGBT individual is going to have greater suffering than in a more accepting environment. This is certainly not good for the individual or society as a whole.
Is homoexuality a suffering-free lifestyle? No. straight people can’t claim that either. It is, however, becoming more and more accepted, and therefore more and more compatible with Buddhist beliefs.
I suspect we’ll have some discussion in the comment section; that’s what it’s for!
I’m having trouble finding a time to meditate every day. Meditation has been in my life for a long time, but structured meditation has been a difficult task to adhere to. Although I wish to, and feel the urge to, I am having a hard time sticking to it. Do you have any advice for this?
My Response:
I’m an English teacher, and I also want to publish more books, so I read lots of books about writing. One of the chief complaints that “wannabe” writers have is that they don’t have the time to write. I see this over and over in books about writing and from aspiring writers on Twitter as well. The old-timers and experienced writers always have the same answer for them. “A writer writes.”
A similar argument comes from those who don’t have time to exercise.
The same thing goes for meditation.
If it’s important to you, then you will find a way to fit it in. The problem is that right now, other things are more important to you. Maybe it’s work. Maybe it’s school. Maybe it’s sitting in a chair watching “Here Comes Honey Boo-Boo” on TV, I don’t know. But if you aren’t meditating, then it’s simply because something else is taking priority.
There’s nothing wrong with having some things in your life be more important than meditation. I’ll admit it; I don’t get around to it nearly as often as I should myself. The thing here is to take responsibility for your own lack of meditating. Don’t blame your calendar or the clock. If it’s important enough to you, you will make time for it, the way you make time for other things right now.
Maybe subconsciously you’re avoiding meditation for some reason. Maybe you simply don’t manage your time well. Get organized. See what other time-consuming thing you could cut back on or drop entirely. Maybe you really are that busy, and meditation won’t fit. That happens sometimes, but most of the time, this situation is easily fixed.
Just do it.
(And no, I just couldn’t resist that title. If you’ve watched Youtube recently, you know why.)
The Buddhist nun known as Ryonen was born in 1797. She was a granddaughter of the famous Japanese warrior Shingen. Her poetic genius and alluring beauty were such that at seventeen she was serving the empress as one of the ladies of the court. Even at such a youthful age fame awaited her.
The beloved empress died suddenly and Ryonen’s hopeful dreams vanished. She became acutely aware of the impermanency of life in this world. It was then that she desired to study Zen.
Her relatives disagreed, however, and practically forced her into marriage. With a promise that she might become a nun after she had borne three children, Ryonen assented. Before she was twenty-five she had accomplished this condition. Then her husband and relatives could no longer dissuade her from her desire. She shaved her head, took the name of Ryonen, which means to realize clearly, and started on her pilgrimage.
She came to the city of Edo and asked Tetsugyu to accept her as a disciple. At one glance the master rejected her because she was too beautiful.
Ryonen then went to another master, Hakuo. Hakuo refused her for the same reason, saying that her beauty would only make trouble.
Ryonen obtained a hot iron and placed it against her face. In a few moments her beauty had vanished forever.
Hakuo then accepted her as a disciple.
Commemorating this occasion, Ryonen wrote a poem on the back of a little mirror:
In the service of my Empress I burned incense to perfume my exquisite clothes.
Now as a homeless mendicant I burn my face to enter a Zen temple.
When Ryonen was about to pass from this world, she wrote another poem:
Sixty-six times have these eyes beheld the changing scene of autumn.
I have said enough about moonlight,
Ask no more.
Only listen to the voice of pines and cedars when no wind stirs.
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