Benedict's Dharma 2
Day
2 - Wednesday - April 30, 2003
Rev. Kusala Bhikshu
REV.
KUSALA: I'd like to start off this morning with a reading.
It's from a book called, "Teaching's of the Buddha," by
Jack Kornfield, and is a compilation of sayings, reflections, thoughts
and ideas. This comes from a Buddhist text called the Samyutta Nikaya.
It's entitled, "Soma and Mara."
"Once
the nun, Soma, having returned from her alms round and after her meal
entered the woods for a noonday rest. Plunging into the depths of
the woods, she sat under a tree.
When the tempter, Mara, desirous of arousing fear, wavering and dread
in Soma, and wishing to cause her to interrupt her concentrated meditation,
went up to her and said, "The goal is hard to reach, even for
sages. It cannot be won by a woman with whatsoever wisdom she may
have.
Then Soma thought: Who is this, a human or nonhuman? Who is saying
this? Surely it is Mara, who wants to interrupt my concentrated meditation.
Knowing that it was Mara, she said to him, "What does one's gender
matter to one whose mind is well composed, in whom insight is functioning,
and who comprehends the Dharma?"
Then Mara thought: The nun, Soma, knows who I am. Being sad and sorrowful,
he vanished then and there."
I've
chosen three topics for the morning session. The first is freedom,
the second is ownership and nonattachment, and the third is forgiveness
or acceptance.
___A
few years ago I started looking into the idea of freedom.___
A
few years ago I started looking into the idea of freedom. Am I really
free? Do I have true freedom? Am I controlling my life, or is my life
being controlled? What is ultimate freedom anyway?
I then
reflected on freedom of choice. Do I have the freedom to choose? Or
is my choice based on... Do I want the red one, or blue one? Do I
have the choice, of "No Choice?"
I have
come to understand through the practice of meditation and following
the precepts, that the freedom of a monk is really based, on the choice
of no choice. Sounds strange doesn't it. That true freedom can come
out of having no choice? Like holding the 227 precepts of an early
Buddhist monk. Somehow, those precepts become 227 chances to be free.
One day wisdom and compassion will take all our choices away, and
we'll be left with enlightened intention, speech, and action, not-self
and no choice.
So,
how do we find freedom in renunciation? What holds us in bondage?
Is it the things we own, the things we want, or the things we need?
I found
myself sitting in the Zendo (meditation hall) on a hard, cold floor,
quietly, looking for "No Choice." About ten minutes into
my sitting both knees really started to hurt. I envisioned myself
sitting with gangrene, and because of that, an ambulance would soon
come to the Zendo and take me to the hospital. The doctor would say
in a soft and comforting voice, "We have to amputate your leg,
because you were sitting in meditation too long."
Wow,
what a story my mind was making. I suddenly became aware Mara, the
great tempter, was sitting on my shoulder and whispering in my ear,
trying to scare me. (Mara is not a devil, but a manifestation of desire
and craving). So, I said to Mara, "I'm going to sit here anyway.
I'm going to choose not to have the choice to move." Weird isn't
it, to choose no choice, very Zen in a way.
After
a half hour of sitting quietly, I stretched my legs and the blood
came back. I was able to stand and walk. I didn't have to go the hospital.
I started to see the choice of no choice, had allowed me to sit with
much more discomfort than ever before. No choice in a way, let me
transcend my discomfort with no dire consequences.
Could
I choose not to be comfortable and simply suffer, even when friends,
family, body, and mind told me not to? Sometimes my spiritual journey
is all about not choosing comfort.
Freedom
is never found in security
___ and seems to lie outside most of the comfort zones.___
Freedom
is never found in security, and seems to lie outside most of the comfort
zones.
I'd like
to stop here and do a reading. This is something from the Dhammapada
a famous Early Buddhist text. It's called, "Crossing the Stream."
"Few
cross over the river. Most are stranded on this side. On the riverbank
they run up and down. But the wise person, following the way, crosses
over beyond the reach of death.
Free from desire,
Free from possessions,
Free from attachment and appetite,
Following the seven lights of awakening,
And rejoicing greatly in one's freedom,
In this world the wise person
Becomes oneself a light,
Pure, shining free."
Okay
something about ownership and attachment. This is a tough one for
me, because I like the stuff I have. I don't have much stuff, but
that makes the stuff I have even more valuable to me.
Back
in the 1980's I bought a brand new Opal Manta, $3700. What a wonderful
car -- flag blue, four-on-the-floor, my first new car. I was so happy,
I'd drive to work every day and glow in the luxury of my new car.
Then
one day I left my apartment to go to work, and found somebody had
broken into my brand new car. The passenger window was shattered and
the radio was gone.
I was
confused. I was angry. I went over to my car, and I yelled, "Car,
who owns you? Who owns you, car? Don't I own you? Aren't I making
the payments? Aren't you mine?" I listened carefully for a response,
but my car said nothing back.
It was
a big insight: I didn't own my car. I was simply using it until somebody
wanted it more than I did.
I thought
about myself. Do I own me? Can I prevent my body from getting old?
Can I prevent it from getting sick? Can I prevent it from dying? What
part of me do I really own? Can I ever really have a perfect hair
day?
As a
monk with a shaved head, it seems I can have a prefect hair day.
MC:
I'd say it's perfect.
REV.
KUSALA: The problem with ownership is... It's an illusion!
There is no one to own the stuff, and no stuff to be owned.
The
Illusion of ownership causes much suffering. A better way to go through
life, is with an open hand. Sometimes people give me things out of
kindness and generosity. But things change, and those things I think
I own, will always be taken away.
Every
time I close our hand and try to own the things I use, I suffer.
Can
I just walk through life with an open hand, receiving and giving without
ever closing my hand? I think I can, but it takes a lot of practice.
That's what I call true renunciation, never closing your hand or your
heart.
Okay
a little shift here.. What about forgiveness? You know, in Buddhism
we don't really have forgiveness, it's more like acceptance. There
is no One in Buddhism to forgive us, and there is no One
to be forgiven. It's sad sometimes, it feels good to be forgiven,
you sort of get off the hook. But Karma has no ears to hear, and no
eyes to see.
A short
story... A few years ago Father Gill from the LA Archdiocese and I
were at a Los Angeles Buddhist/Catholic dialogue. I said to Father
Gill, "Father Gill" -- and let me say now, he is a much
wiser man than I -- "Father Gill, I don't believe we have forgiveness
in Buddhism."
I felt
so proud, I had found something to challenge him with, and make a
Buddhist point. I said, "You know, the forgiver is up here, and
the forgiven is down there. In Buddhism we don't have forgiveness;
we have acceptance. Acceptance is much better, because it's a more
equal playing field. There is equanimity in acceptance. There is no
greater or lesser in acceptance.
Gosh,
I felt so good about the point I had just made.
Father
Gill said in a kind and forgiving tone, "Reverend Kusala, that's
an interesting idea, but don't you think forgiveness and acceptance
can do the very same thing?" I said, "But, what do they
do, Father Gill? What does forgiveness and acceptance really do?
Father
Gill said, "Forgiveness and acceptance bring a relationship back
into balance."
"Forgiveness
brings a relationships back into balance," I said? "Yes,
he said." "And acceptance does the same thing. It's all
about balance."
Wow,
I came to understand forgiveness and acceptance are pretty much the
same, because of the balance they bring to the world. But now, is
there a way practice acceptance?
Let me
share a technique I use. I go to a busy grocery store, sometimes Von's,
sometimes Ralph's, and I find the longest line. I may only have one
or two items, but I stand there anyway, just waiting.
My first
thoughts might might go something like this... This sure is a stupid
thing to do, I could be doing a lot of other things right now. Then
I get a little angry and a bit uncomfortable. That's when I start
to practice 'patient endurance.' I'm enduring this line, my anger,
and my discomfort because my goal is accept things without having
to change them. Finally it's my turn to pay, and my practice is over.
I
might go back the next day and find the longest line again, and keep
doing it repeatedly until patient endurance finally turns into patience.
Patience is the antidote to my anger.
___Patience
is the antidote to anger.___
Now while
I'm standing there being patient, I might even invite somebody to
cut in front of me. It will make my practice that much better. After
practicing for awhile... Like a week, a month, or even a year, patience
finally turns into acceptance. With
acceptance I can stand in the longest line, forever.
At that
moment, the world and I are exactly the way we're supposed to be.
Eventually my acceptance turns into equanimity, a kind of elevated
spiritual acceptance. In equanimity I have perfect balance. Mind and
heart have come together in the present moment where all things are
interconnected and empty of value.
Thank
you for listening.
SR.
MEG: Well, speaking of patient endurance, do you want
to stand up for a moment while I get set up?
REV.
KUSALA: I brought my harmonica with me today, and
while Sister Meg is getting set up I'd like to play a tune for you.
Back
in the old days when more blues guys lived in the country than in
the city, they would hear a train, a steam engine, and replicate it
on their harmonica. It's said, you can't be a real blues harmonica
player until you can play the train. This is my interpretation of
the train. All aboard.
(Rev.
Kusala plays some Blues on his harmonica.)
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