This is published  with permission from Sharon Beckman-Brindley.

Sharon is a Clinical Psychologist who has had a thirty year private psychotherapy practice. She is a co-founder and a guiding teacher of the Insight Meditation Community of Charlottesville and a graduate of the Community Dharma Leaders program at Spirit Rock Meditation Center. She is a senior teacher of  Insight Dialogue. She and I will be co-teaching a mixture of Insight Dialogue and Foundations of Mindfulness retreat in August in Colorado. The details will be forthcoming soon.     – Amma Thanasanti

 

    “We should appreciate what we are doing. There is no preparation for something else.”

                  Shunryu Suzuki

 

On summer afternoons when I was a child, I would sit for hours on my Grandma’s patio. She and I would rock together in our creaky chairs under the shade of the old apple tree, sometimes with the ripening apples plopping down around us. “Grandma, talk to me,” I would say. “Ain’t life grand,” she would begin, a propos of nothing in particular. Then we would talk together for hours while Grandpa tended his flowers and the day softened into evening. I have virtually no conscious recollection of the details of what she spoke about, but the gift of her attention, of her talking and listening with this small girl is buried deep in my bones and in the very physical structure of my brain and mind.

 

As immature organisms, relationship with other humans is central to our development. The maturity and coherence of our nervous systems develop through interactions with the more mature and (presumably) more coherently organized nervous systems of adults. This means that we develop through relationship. We learn over the first two decades of our development to organize ourselves effectively in making meaningful sense of the chaos of both internal and external sense impressions. It appears that the primary mechanism for the health of this developmental process is the ability of a child’s caretaker to sensitively perceive, name in language, and respond contingently to the young child’s internal states via his or her awareness of such child signals as eye contact, facial expression, body language and vocal tone. Adult assessments or responses that are non-contingent, incongruous, frightening or fragmented compromise the developing brain’s information processing capacity and coherence. The resulting incoherence then results in restricted flows of information as well as suboptimal capacity for assessment and processing of both internal and external experience. These lead further to less effective social interactions and, later, less competent conceptual, linguistic, and relational skills. [i]

 

 

Neurobiologists, then, would credit the importance of my shared time with Grandma and other sensitive adults in my life as far more than the cultivation of pleasant memories.  As we talked and spent time in presence together, these important neural connections and coordinations were forming between the left side of my brain with its logical, organizational, linguistic and conceptual capacities and my brain’s right side with its more experiential, symbolic, emotional and nonverbal skills.  The very physical structure of my human brain required this energy exchange for its billions of neurons to myelinate properly and for them to develop the capacity to function together in systematic and effective ways.  Similarly, I was able to come to awareness of the strong emotional impulses from my limbic system, (mostly) without losing either consciousness or control. As relational experience and mind skills became more complex, my organized brain became more and more able to know the “felt sense” of implicit memories and to translate these as needed into conscious and workable explicit forms. Thus, as this human body grew, the mind became increasingly skilled at knowing, remembering and learning from experience without chaotic overwhelm or extremes of unwholesome behavior. [ii] This formed the basis of the development of a personal identity, a sense of a personal self with perceived continuity over time.

 

Another developmental perspective comes from the point of view of emotional development within the human child –parent attachment system. For me, these human interactions with Grandma cultivated a secure attachment which I then could rely on as a safe and comforting harbor for retreat and repair when I was distressed. In addition, it also offered a secure base from which I could move out and explore my ever-expanding world.[iii] Grandma did this partly through language and partly through the energetic exchange of our simple presence together. She and other important adults in this way helped to cultivate in this human organism a mind and a psychological sense of a self who was safe enough to navigate this otherwise overwhelming world. By my brain’s maturity at around age twenty-five, I was able to “think, plan, remember, anticipate, organize, self-reflect, distinguish reality from fantasy, exercise voluntary control over impulses and behavior, and love:”[iv] The mind became coherent, which is to say balanced, responsive and organized. I thus became capable of open, balanced, fluid and flexible interactions with both my internal and external worlds.

 

The young in every human culture in the world develop through this sort of relational presence with more mature community members. Every culture has a way of helping its young to develop a sense of self.  The actual way these selves are organized varies widely from culture to culture. For some, the “self” may refer primarily to what we in the west know as an “ego: “the personal organization and functioning within a single body.  For other cultures, “self” may refer more to membership in a particular family group or clan or geographic community. [v] In every case, however, this human “self” is constructed. It is an organizational process which develops over time to impose some sense of order and predictability upon the otherwise overwhelming and chaotic flow of sensory data. From this perspective, then the “self” is not a “thing” so much as an important and necessary strategy: a process.

 

As psychotherapists, our cultural role in the west has become that of priests or midwives or, perhaps, grandparents of sorts whose job it is, in part, to assist with this ongoing self development. In speaking and listening together, we help to cultivate this coherent and effective self construction and to help to repair it when development has gone awry in some way.  As with my grandmother, this importantly includes the relational presence needed to enable individuals to repair the inevitable and sometimes debilitating developmental confusions and lapses that occur for all of us on our human journey. In our professional training as healers, we appropriately study and become expert at many of the dozens of skillful ways of understanding these developmental processes and at facilitating these developments and these repairs. When accomplished well, this self-developmental process leads to an enhanced sense of a personal self who is experienced as relatively separate from others who are perceived to be external. Ideally, this self has an adequate-enough sense of safety and stability over time, and has a capacity to sustain creative and flexible intrapersonal as well as interpersonal activities. This becomes a phenomenological sense of an internal “myself” in relationship with external objects or “others.”[vi]

 

From this perspective, however, we tend to think of suffering as inevitably involving some failure or deficit in this internal self construction. We imagine suffering as the result of something either lost or incomplete that can be, indeed must be, ultimately understood, repaired or acquired.  Here is where it gets tricky. This perspective does have merit, most obviously in light of instances of significant trauma and its resulting developmental problems and/or brain incoherence. However, it can come to view “healthy” functioning as life without pain or difficulty. We can mistakenly imagine that this constructed self, this human life can somehow be completely stabilized and perfected, if we just study or try or practice enough. We can think of the personal self as a “thing” that belongs to “me” and that it is or can be separated from other beings and from the impermanent, unfolding flow of life on this planet. This view can inadvertently cultivate an expectation that, with enough understanding or hard personal work, the dilemmas of life can finally and completely be resolved by an independent self. If there is the unpleasant or loss or failure, it must mean that someone, somewhere, must be doing something wrong, and that it – or they – can and should be fixed. Within this frame, western psychotherapy can become an endless effort to strive for “something better,” for a cultivation of a permanent, separate self whose perfection eradicates normal human existential anxiety.

 

Nowhere in the Buddha’s teachings does he directly address the child to adult neurodevelopmental processes or even interpersonal and social processes of normal or abnormal human child development. In general, his teachings assumed the mature and coherent organization of healthy adult brains.  Like a good researcher, however, and without benefit of modern MRIs and EEGS and CT scanners, he examined carefully and diligently the workings of his own mind. He saw the construction process: how the self is constructed, moment by moment by moment of mind moment after mind moment.  He saw the truth of impermanence: that the self is relentlessly arising and passing away, each moment conditioned by the one that came before. He saw that our “selves” and our very lives are much like the separate frames of a movie that get strung together and that we then think are real. Like enchanted movie-goers, we forget this fabricated and constructed nature of our personal reality. We take the movie to be real and our “selves” to be the stars of the show. This is what the Buddha referred to again and again as our human “delusion” or “ignorance.” In modern times, even scientists begin to speak in similar terms. Western neuropsychiatrist Daniel Siegel, in writing of current studies of the human mind, notes that recent understandings suggest that “the idea of a unitary, continuous ‘self’ is actually an illusion our minds attempt to create.” [vii]

 

 

So in speaking of “no-self” the Buddha was not saying that the psychological and phenomenological self does not exist. He was saying that it does not exist in the way that we usually think that it does. And it never has. This constructed self, always partial, always incomplete, always changing, is unreliable and unworthy of our ultimate allegiance. So in speaking of “no self,” we are not suddenly getting rid of something solid and real, but rather, invited to release our misperceptions. The Buddha invites us to wise view: to come to understand – and, indeed, experience – the conditioned, impermanent, impersonal and profoundly interconnected nature of life on this planet. He invites us to discover for ourselves that the anxieties and discomforts of this human life are universal. He invites us to learn that deep peace and happiness cannot be accomplished through acquisition of or grasping at more of anything. We can never acquire enough: enough sensory pleasure, enough possessions, enough accomplishment, enough recognition, enough safety. There will always be change in life on this planet: everything that is built will ultimately crumble and everything that crumbles will ultimately rise again in some different form.  The body, a constant source of challenge, will age and ultimately die. Anything that goes up will ultimately go down; everything that goes down will ultimately go up again. It’s just how life is on this planet. No matter how robust our bodies are or our brains are or our relationships are, these too will grow and change over time. As the Buddha investigated his own heart’s longing for release, he discovered the “middle way:” a path that abandoned the extremes of  trying to perfect a “self” who could outrun human life through acquiring more or even through extremes of asceticism and denial. He taught the freedom, release, joy and profound happiness of learning to let go and to be fully present and fully alive with life in each moment, just as it is.

 

Despite our love for one another, neither Grandma nor I could prevent the sorrows of Grandpa’s death. Nor could we avoid the grief and the painful practical realities of her slow descent into dementia. But for each of us – even to the very end – we could cultivate and know a deep love and compassion that nourished us both as we shared our journeys.  The woman who lived through two world wars and who was affected profoundly by the Great Depression, whose youngest child had become  inexplicably disabled, whose life was filled with the joys and sorrows of any human life,  could know, could remember, could teach “Ain’t life grand” to its very final moments.

 

As psychotherapists and healers of every sort, we are called to witness the sorrows and the joys of human life. We study and learn and bring our care and presence. We apply our best professional practices. It is important and right that we do this; these are our own contributions to the easing of suffering. It is also important to remember, however, that true healing does not mean that we “fix” life or that we “fix” any self – our own or others’.  Being human cannot be ultimately secure, and cannot be “fixed.”  It cannot, even, be “fixed” by spiritual practices: by acquiring the best spiritual teacher or by becoming a perfect meditator or – as the Buddha himself discovered – by the most excellent chants or diets or yoga postures. Human life cannot be ultimately “fixed,” but it can be discovered and it can be lived. Its mysteries can be known and experienced and received. Releasing Identification with the constructions of our minds, we learn to live with great wisdom, tenderness and compassion.

 

So as healers, we help with external conditions when we can. We remember, however, that ultimate healing occurs not in perfecting a self and not in fixing either external or even internal circumstances, but in the qualities of our hearts and minds. In these, we learn to meet our life and ride its waves of experience as they are and as we are.  We learn to discover wholesome action revealing itself in this moment to moment awareness.  Just this. Just this.

 

Re-posted  with permission from the author  Ayya Tathaaloka Bhikkhuni in honor of Sanghamitta Day, December 28.

 

***

 

Written in commemoration of the lunar anniversary of our Venerable Foremother Sanghamitta Theri’s arrival on Lankadvipa twenty-three centuries ago, as an inquiry into the ordination practices of our early arahant forebears, particularly those great Dhamma emissaries who spread the Buddha’s teaching beyond the central heartland of the Indian Madhyadesa, to foreign lands far and wide in all directions.

 

~ the great activities of early arahants ~

We have heard and read that in the early days of the Buddha Sasana, while the Blessed One still lived and breathed and walked the dusty paths of India’s ancient heartland, there were very many fully enlightened women, bhikkhuni Arahants.  His most beloved former wife, foster mother, half-sister, and many more Sakyan daughters were amongst the ladies of the Madhyadesa who became the Blessed One’s Foremost Disciples, preeminent in all good qualities and virtues.

For when the Sakyan ladies emerged en masse from their native home Kapila, on foot, hair shorn, bereft of all but the humble robes of samanas, it was the Blessed One who received and ordained his foster mother, she already attained to the first stages of sainthood.  And to his Bhikkhu Sangha he gave the honor and responsibility of bestowing ordination upon the many saintly and aspiring others, uplifting and entering five hundred more of these daughters of the Sakyans into full communion in the monastic Sangha.  Thus the Bhikkhuni Sasana arose in the world in this Fortunate Eon, although there are the rumors of other early solitary wanderers amongst women, quick to be enlightened,  called directly to the Path by the Conqueror.

And not long after, in praise of the effectiveness of his teaching, the Blessed One, the Noble Lord Buddha himself testified to the attainment in his twofold monastic Sangha, and to the complete enlightenment of five hundred of his monastic women disciples to the Noble reaches and heights of the Path, to Arahant.

But then there were more.

For amongst the women Elders, the Theris, there arose those who themselves excelled in leadership and teaching: Theris Khema and Uppalavanna, preeminent in leadership of the women’s monastic Sangha; Theri Dhammadinna for her Buddhavacana, the words from her lips likened by the Blessed One to his own; and Theri Patacara preeminent in her deep knowledge and teaching of the monastic discipline of the Vinaya.  It is said that the venerable Patacara herself had five hundred enlightened disciples, and likewise former queen Anoja Theri, and the great Theri Mahapajapati Gotami too, together with the thousands following the Theri Bimba Yasodhara, unequaled in Vision of the Ages.

But those were the early days of the Sasana, when Arahants flourished upon the lands of Middle Earth; the Noble Path of the Ariyas and the banner of the Arahants, blazing forth in all its glory in robed feminine and masculine form.  But you may ask, what of the Arahants of later days, after the light of the Tathagata passed from the world into the great and final bliss of Parinibbana?

The years passed and the Dhamma spread, and then a great king emerged, who by bloody conquest terrorized and took for his own land after land, amassing an empire previously unknown, until, upon seeing a gentle monastic recluse, Asoka the Black stopped, transformed, and became Asoka the Benevolent.

Two hundred and six years had passed between the Blessed One’s Parinibbana and the birth of Asoka’s noble daughter, the great Lady Sanghamitta, later remember as The Wise One. And upon this noble daughter’s reaching the age of eighteen, ninety-six thousand bhikkhunis, the majority of them Holy Ones, converged upon the beautiful capitol city of the realm, Pataliputra, together with six kotis of such holy bhikkhus, for the dedication of 84,000 monasteries and reliquary stupas across the land, as called together by her father, now Dhamma-Asoka, the Great King, Uniter of the Continent.  And to fulfill his wish that he become true relative of the Sasana by gift of his own flesh and blood, with her father’s blessing, she too went forth, received the Pabbaja ordination from her Preceptor Dhammapala Theri with Ayupala Theri as her teacher and undertook the prelimary Sikkha training and then the full training, no long time passing before she joined these Noble Theris in destroying the fetter of individual existence, entering and then fulfilling the Arahant Path.

And her blessed brother Mahinda also went forth and awoke, and after the passing of a decade, joined with other excellent messengers of the Dhamma who went far and wide to foreign lands, sharing the word of the Blessed One’s noble and liberating Doctrine, enlightening the multitudes everywhere. For the Blessed One had told the bhikkhus:  “Go forth for the weal and welfare of the manyfolk…”  “‘There are those with little dust in their eyes’… the gates to the Deathless are open.”

And then he called for her as well.

The great Thera her brother, Noble Mahinda, sent word by messenger from that lamp of an island Sri Lanka, far to the South where he had traveled teaching. For there Anula Devi, queen of the king’s noble brother, together with 500 of her retinue of royal virgin companions, assembled and whilst listening to the Discourse on the Noble Truths, the Sacca Samyutta, had attained Sotapanna, entering that most noble of all streams, opening the Dhamma eye, gaining vision of Nibbana.  Then telling her king Tissa Beloved to the Devas, “Lord, I would go forth,” she made known the inclination of her heart to renunciation.  And faithful as he was to the Doctrine, the king in turn told this to the Noble Thera Mahinda, his teacher.  For this the Great Thera called for the Great Theri, making it known: “It is not for a bhikkhu to do, when there are bhikkhunis such as this sister of mine, Noble and Enlightened, Friend of the Sangha, Sanghamitta. May she come here.”

And then for Queen Anula, at his direction, the king built for her and the saintly ladies, noble in birth and Noble in Dhamma vision, the Upasika Vihara that they could live at ease with the dasasila ten precepts and await she who would ordain them.

Although reluctant that his daughter the Venerable Lady Sanghamitta too should leave his land, faithful in his dedication, Dhamma-Asoka, Lord of the Continent, then made ready for her both ship and company, and as the Thera Mahinda had named them, the Wise Theri’s companions:

The Noble Ones: Uttara, Hema, Pasadapala (Masagalla), Aggimitta, Dasika, Phegu (Tappa), Pabbata[-cchinna], Matta, Malla and Dhammadasiya, bhikkhunis free from desire and firm, with pure thoughts and wishes, firmly established in Dhamma and Vinaya, their passions subdued, with senses under control, attained to the three knowledges and supernormal powers, and well grounded in the Highest Bliss.

And, with sapling of the winter blossom-covered Bodhi, southern branch of the fair and sacred fig under which the Blessed One awoke, she came with her bhikkhuni retinue across the land and across the sea, blessed and accompanied by both devas and nagas; calming storms, subduing the wilds of the ocean; until they could see the shore, and the Lankan King Beloved to the Devas, waist deep in the waters, hands held high in reverence above his head in welcome and exhalted joy.  It was the first moon of the cool season when they descended, came ashore and then up and into Anuradhapura, that most beautiful and beloved city, with streets clean-swept in anticipation, strewn with rain of flowers showered down by devas.

And the five hundred virgins surrounding Anula and five hundred palace women, all free from passion and steadfast, received the Pabbaja ordination from the Great Theri, not long after fulfilling the Arahant Path in the illustrious Doctrine of the Conqueror.  And from them arose a great history, the Chronicle of the Lamp, and a great tradition of excellence in enlightenment, long lasting, undying, to this day.
~ analysis ~ 

In modern times, if we look back to the example of the Ancient Arahants we find a very interesting picture.  It seems that in the very earliest days of the Buddha Sasana that the Buddha himself ordained bhikkhunis and that he himself instructed the Bhikkhu Sangha to do so, calling for them to fully ordain many hundreds of women. It also appears that the bhikkhunis themselves were active teachers both of lay people in all strata of society as well as of their own monastic followings, numbering in several cases into the hundreds and even thousands.

When we study the women’s monastic discipline of the modern Pali-text Bhikkhuni Patimokkha, we find that a bhikkhuni may not ordain more than one student every other year, ostensibly due to shortage of lodgings (Bhikkhuni Pacittiyas 82 & 83).  It has thus been logically theorized that these precepts must have arisen late in the Buddha’s lifetime, after the Bhikkhuni Sangha was very well established, with large numbers of women entering the Order, and the provision of lodgings a concern.  For this theory to hold true, we would then expect to find, at least in records postdating the Parinibbana, particularly for those knowledgeable in Vinaya and for those who were Arahantas, that these precepts would be most excellently followed in both letter and spirit.

However, when we look carefully at the story of the international foundation of the Bhikkhuni Sasana in the 3rd century BC on the Isle of Sri Lanka by the Arahant siblings Elders Sanghamitta and Mahinda, as well as the extant records of all of the other Asokan Missions, we find that these Arahant Elders seem to have been either:

(1) unaware of these precepts because they had not yet been established, or
(2) aware of these precepts and aware of reasonable exceptions to them, that is, of variant cases where they applied and didn’t apply – a knowledge now lost in modern renditions of the Vinaya.

This is interesting in two ways related to our modern circumstances.

If (1) were true, then this might lend credence to the theories that there were precepts established to control the Bhikkhuni Sangha and subjugate it to the Bhikkhu Sangha that were instituted at least several hundred years after the Parinibbana of the Buddha, and notably after the Asokan missions period.

This would also importantly tend to completely discredit rather widespread theorization amongst contemporary Theravada Buddhists that the Buddha himself established these precepts for the sake of controlling and even stifling the Bhikkhuni Sangha because he did not want it to exist, or wanted it to remain very small and ineffective, or to die out quickly.

If (2) were true, it would also prove, through the authoritative example of the early Arahants, that these precepts, in the way that they were practiced in the early days, as understood by enlightened Masters of Dhamma and Vinaya, were circumstantial in application, as other precepts also are, in details that are now lost to us. That is, these precepts were not meant to be kept under every circumstance, but rather that there were exceptions, such as when the women to be ordained were replete with offered lodging and requisite support, as well as support in good quality training and instruction in Dhamma and Vinaya.

It would also prove, once again, that according to the understanding of the Ancient Arahants who lived within the first five hundred years after the Parinibbana – at a time that all traditions agree that the Dhamma was still present in its pristine purity in practice and realization within the Sangha – that it was (and is) a desirable thing to ordain larger numbers of both men and women who aspire to the full and complete living of the Holy Life in the monastic Sangha.

This does seem to be the prevalent mood of both the early Sasana in the Buddha’s lifetime up to the pre-missionary period Buddhism in India under the Emperor Asoka, as well as in the ensuing period of the great missions, as evidenced by the early missionary records from this period which proudly relate the numbers of both men and women brought into the Sangha by the Dhammadhuta Arahantas who traveled and taught far and wide, ordaining both men and women.

The case of Sanghamitta and Mahinda is unique, however, as it is the only record in which the presence and the name of the ordaining female Arahant is recorded for posterity.  All other records show only bhikkhu Arahant emissaries ordaining either men and women, or ordaining what in some cases may have meant men alone, or in other cases such as that of Suvannabhumi meant simply ordaining ”people” without distinction of gender in one record (the Mahavamsa), but with distinction of gender in others (the Samantapasadika and the Sudassanavinayavibhasa).

The numbers below are of ordinations given by Arahant Dhamma emissaries resulting from their initial teaching in these lands.

- Mahinda Thera ordains 30,000 men and Sanghamitta Theri ordains 1000 noblewomen (Sri Lanka)
- Sona and Uttara Thera ordain 3,500 noblemen and 1,500 noblewomen in Suvannabhumi (Burma/Thailand)
- Rakkhita Thera ordains 37,000 persons in Vanavasa (South India)
- Yonaka Dhammarakkhita Thera ordains 2,000 persons, more than half being women in Aparantaka (Indian West Coast)
- Mahadhammarakkhita Thera ordains 13,000 persons in Maharashtra (West India)
- Maharakkhita Thera ordains 10,000 of the Yonas (in the Greek lands along the Arabian Sea)
- Mahadeva Thera ordains 40,000 persons in Mahisamandala (Avanti)
- Majjhima with Kassapagotta, Dundubissara, Sahadeva and Mulakadeva Thera each ordain 100,000 (Himalayan Region)

The apparent uniqueness of the case of Sanghamitta and Mahinda is largely, if not completely, due to the uniqueness of there being an extant record, the Dipavamsa.  This, in turn, may be largely due to the fact that the bhikkhunis of the tradition founded by the venerable Sanghamitta, as recorded in the Dipavamsa, were highly educated and skilled in practice and teaching of both Dhamma and Vinaya, and for unknown reasons seem to have taken a particular interest, whether earlier or later in their tradition, in recording their own history over a several hundred year period.  It was the authoring of the Dipavamsa – the ”Lineage of the Lamp,” ”Chronicle of the Lamp” or “Chronicle of the Island” - that is thought to have inspired the later Bhikkhu Sangha authored Mahavamsa – the “Great Chronicle” – and perhaps even inspired other Buddhist histories of lineages and traditions such as the Chinese “Transmission of the Lamp”.  Or it may simply be that this particular record has happened to survive the ages, while others have not, or have yet to be discovered.

It is important to acknowledge, however, that Northern and Southern records differ in their inclusion of Sanghamitta Theri in the history of the conversion of the Isle of Lanka, for the Northern records mention Mahinda (Skt: Mahendra) alone, and do not say how many people he ordained, but simply that he firmly established the Sangha in that land.  This suggests the tendency in at least some branches of the tradition to record only the names of the great male leader for posterity.

Nonetheless, these early records, fully half of which record both very large numbers of men and women being ordained by early Arahanta Dhamma teaching emissaries, whether by bhikkhus alone or by bhikkhus and bhikkhunis, do show one thing: They show an attitude of tremendous positivity to the ordination of women alongside the ordination of men in this early original period of the Buddha Sasana, within the first five hundred years following the Parinibbana.  And significantly, for the Theravada tradition, it is useful and important to acknowledge that Sanghamitta Theri and Mahinda Thera are the co-founders of the International Theravada tradition that has been passed on and lasted until this present day, in the Theravada traditions of Thailand, Laos, Sri Lanka, Cambodia and Burma.  Thus, the example of the attitudes and behaviors of the founding Arahants of this tradition, in its early and pristine days, might be considered most excellent precedent and example for those who would like to conserve and perpetuate the authentic and original Theravada Buddha Sasana.

~ post script ~ 

The most important question, that of the prevelent attitude within the very early Theravada tradition on the ordination of women, both in the Buddha’s lifetime and in the early missionary period within the three hundred years following the Parinibbana, is answered here clearly.  However, there are further technical clues related to the possible later development of the Pali text Vinaya over time which emerge from analysis of the Dipavamsa records of Sanghamitta and Mahinda that may be worthy of consideration.

(1) The presence (mention) of the sikkhamana training stage in the lifetime of Sanghamitta Theri from her ages 18-20 - suggesting the sikkhamana training for underage women may be an earlier Vinaya practice, perhaps from the lifetime of the Buddha

(2) The apparent absence (or non-mention) of restriction on the number of women (and men) to be ordained at one time – suggesting this restriction might be of later addition to Vinaya, or appropriate exceptions to the restriction where known then

(3) The apparent absence (or non-mention) of dual ordination by both the Bhikkhu and Bhikkhuni Sanghas, with ordination mentioned for women by the Bhikkhuni Sangha only – suggesting the requirement of dual ordination might be of later addition to Vinaya

—
References

Sutta Pitaka
- Anguttara Nikaya
- Khuddhaka Nikaya:Therigatha, Theri Apadana

Vinaya Pitaka
- Vinaya: Culavagga, Bhikkhuni Vibhanga

Chronicles & Commentaries
- The Dipavamsa: An Ancient Buddhist Historical Record, translated by Hermann Oldenberg
- Mahavamsa: The Great Chronicle, translated by George Turnour
- Samantapasadika, Sudassanavinayavibhasa

Contemporary Publications on the History of Buddhism
- Light of Liberation: A History of Buddhism in India, Nyingma Crystal Mirror Series VIII
- History of Indian Buddhism: From the Origins to the Saka Era, Lamotte

—

Revised and finalized 19 Dec 09, Hemanta 2552

—

My gratitude to the venerable Bhikkhu Analayo for his review and to the venerables Ajahn Brahmali, Bhikkhuni Sudhamma and Bhikkhuni Sobhana for their helpful editorial suggestions.
—
Private Copyright by the Author, 2009.  Contact the author at tathaaloka [at] gmail [dot] com if you wish to quote from or link to this publication

 

The election is now over, an election that has been competitive, nasty and destructively costly. When I consider the beauty, harmony and depth of sharing of the monastic gathering that I just attended, I question what can be distilled that applies to our national and global situation?

 

Before the election, when I learned that a friend was voting for the candidate that I don’t have any confidence in, I was frightened. How is it that someone that I trust and care about can have confidence in someone that inspires so much anxiety for me about the effect he might have on our country and the world? Should I be careful about what I say and share in the future? What were all the people who voted the same as my friend thinking?  When I think like this I separate myself out and contribute to the polarization that is endemic in our country and world right now. I am part of the problem.

 

When I shifted my attention from the arguments of why I am convinced about a preferred candidate to the suffering that we have in common, my heart softens. When my attention shifts from views I believe in to the longing to find a way forward; the longing to help, I feel committed to stay engaged, stay present. When it is clear that polarization is not the way forward, I find a way to listen to the needs from people who think differently, and the patience and willingness to learn skills when the disparity of views creates an impasse on how to move forward.

 

Hurricane Sandy affected people independent of their political views. The suffering of loosing homes, loved ones, the not yet visible effect of mold on houses and health, navigating the new cold front without suitable homes or heat– all of these touch into universal suffering. Connecting the dots, many see that Hurricane Sandy is not an isolated event but part of a greater picture of a world that is dependent of fossil fuel; a world that is increasing moving towards suffering for the people and animals who live here. Have you come to a similar conclusion? Stepping back and seeing things from a bigger picture gives an opportunity to move out of polarity in being right or ostracizing those you feel are wrong. What happens when you recognize that beyond right and wrong, you can care for each other as global citizens as people sharing one planet, with suffering as a human condition?

 

I have witnessed myself move from habits of fear, greed and aggression towards kindness, care and generosity. I have seen this movement in many others. I have confidence this potential is within everyone of us. From my life as a contemplative, meditation has been the greatest asset. What knows fear is not the same as fear. What knows anger is not the same as anger. What knows greed, lust, patterns of addiction is not the same as them. Resting in awareness, I no longer have to identify with my thoughts, views, and emotions. When I am able to let go of my grasping onto what I think, feel and what my views and opinions are,  I let go a little of my identity. Though this feeling of groundlessness initially evoked anxiety, I have learned how to relax into another kind of ground- the ground of ‘being’ supported by awareness. When I do this, I am free to move attention between my thoughts, views, and opinions and the quality of awareness that knows them. No longer bound by the things I think and feel, no longer constrained by a fixed identity, I move into alignment with awakening, where my identity is shaped more by what is innate rather than by what changes. Resting in awareness, I do not separate myself out based on my views, or opinions. Resting in awareness, I am free to use my views and opinions in service of wisdom and compassion for others benefit- to live in ways that  cause less suffering and make choices and support policies that are life affirming. What this amounts to is the movement from seeing people as opponents to viewing each as a fellow human being.

 

I see that the path out of polarity is through relationship and awareness.

 

I am not suggesting that everyone ordain. In this country a vast majority are committed to awakening as householders. When we engage with each other in ways where we are able to support, encourage and inspire each other, we further develop the quality of community. As we bring this quality of community into the world, a world that is torn by polarity, conflict and divisiveness, the fractured worlds inside us heals. As we heal, the world heals.

 

 

 

For the last 18 years, once a year there has been a gathering of Buddhist monastics in the USA. I just came from this year’s gathering. Amidst robes of yellow, ochre, orange, red, burgundy and brown I felt like I was walking through a rainbow. So much of the last three years I have felt like a solitary monastic in an alien world. At this gathering, I felt relaxed and peaceful, like I was at home. We were 50 monastics who gathered from various Buddhist traditions to share the blessings of talking on Dhamma sharing the joys and challenges of our lives.  Though most were residing in the USA, a few monastics had come from Europe, Canada and New Zealand. With some elders having been monastics for 30-40 years and some being preeminent scholars in the world, abbots and abbesses, as well as many living as solitary monastics, the gathering was a varied and colorful by experience and character was it was by color of robes.

 

We were hosted by the community of monks and nuns that live at Deer Park, a branch monastery of Thich Nhat Hahn that is nestled in a secluded valley on a nature reserve outside of Escondido, California. The beauty of the place was accentuated by the ease, grace and heartfelt welcome of the hosting community. From the peace and joy that was tangible at the monastery from when we first arrived  as well as through many deliberate acts intended just for our gathering, an atmosphere of welcome, friendship and a container that supported deep inquiry was created. I felt this seeing eyes twinkle, sharing smiles, being called to morning meditation with Dharma songs, hearing the bell resounding through the canyon, sitting in silence together as dawn was transitioning to the light of day, during our scheduled presentations and discussions as well as over cups of tea.

 

The theme was ‘maintaining Bodhi resolve with joy during times of challenge.’ – finding our aspiration to awaken for all beings even when it is tough. The first presentation opened up the group and took the conversation to a level of authenticity and into matters of heart when one elder shared his experience working with depression.  He learned over the years that with depression having a physiological component, he needed be careful taking medicines that balanced him. He also needed to take care with food and exercise and bringing a lot of patience and kindness to the mind states that arose. It was critical for this elder that his Bodhi resolve had to start with himself. He had to bring a solid determination not to believe the thoughts he was having. Through dedicated effort he found increasing joy in his life that he shared with us and with others.

 

We employed some of the practices that evolved from the Deer Park community stopping when the bell sounded no matter what was happening. We heard about the practice of  “watering flowers and shining light”  a way of offering feedback to each member of the community. The way it worked was by the nuns and monks sitting in separate circles at their prospective communities. The youngest members were invited to speak  first starting with the strengths and assets a person has. After everyone had spoken with the most senior ones speaking last then they gently shifted focus to the areas  that needed some attention and development. The nuns emphasized that they looked to speak about concrete examples of what behavior would indicate growth in a particular area.  We had a classical presentation on using the foundations of mindfulness. Then with Thich Nhat Hahn being one of the innovators of “engaged Buddhism” there was a natural fit for the gathering and the resident monastics to join in the walk organized by the Buddhist Global Relief to end hunger.  The gathering also had break out groups. Two important ones were the effect of global warming on our values about meditation and engagement and the effect of idealism on individuals and monastic communities.  A particularly lively exposition was offered using a power point presentation of pictures of contemporary Buddhist journals as a spring board discsing topic relevant  to “contemporary Buddhism.”

 

You can see pictures of the gathering and walk to end hunger.

 

I was stunned when we counted up and found we were 13 Theravada Bhikkhinis total- a large percentage of the 40 Bhikkhunis currently residing in the USA. These monastic gatherings have been a place where we have been able to share some of the elements of our troubled history, feel supported as we find a place in the larger Buddhist community and prioritize what is needed now as we grow and move forward. At one session in groups of 3 we shared our personal challenging experiences. I talked about being mostly a solitary monastic the three years since I returned from living in the nun’s community in England and the sadness and aloneness that was so much part of the territory I have had to explore in practice. I shared how Dad’s death re-opened another visit of sadness and aloneness.  While I was talking with the two other sisters in my group, it occurred to me that Deer Park might be a good place to scatter Dad’s ashes. I asked the Venerable Sister resident of the monastery what she thought. She said, “Ask your father if he would want to have his ashes scattered here.” When I tuned into Dad, he seemed delighted by the prospects. Then I asked others residing at Deer Park if it would be OK and they said yes with a lot of empathy and tenderness. The whole gathering was invited to join in.

 

We assembled at a high point on the property- a pickup truck bringing those less mobile. Each community offered chanting. It was as if Dad shifted from being “ my” Dad to being a “Universal Dad”. Each person brought every ounce of their years of dedication, practice and love as if they were chanting for their own father who had passed.  Tender, heartfelt, and unhurried, we offered incense, chanting and then I scattered his ashes under a very well established Bodhi tree overlooking a stunning view of the canyon. Being part of a global Sangha, hearing the various communities offer something true to their own tradition and still blending with the whole gathering- a ceremony that unfolded in an organic and spontaneous way – I was deeply touched by how poignant and soothing it felt  to be together in this way and how much closure came from this support. Others commented on how special the ceremony was for them. One Venerable Sister said the ceremony of scattering Dad’s ashes was the greatest expression of the theme of the gathering. When I asked her why, she said that for me to scatter Dad’s ashes and include everyone like that  brought together the challenges that were present at his death, the joy of everyone being together and the intention brought to the ceremony itself were the expression of sustaining our Bodhi resolve with joy during challenging times.

 

November 9 was the 100 day anniversary of his passing. I feel so grateful that this Rainbow Sangha and so many family and friends worldwide have been so loving and supportive during this time as I attend to closure with Dad.

 

You can see pictures of  the ceremony scattering ashes.

 

The last day of the gathering, my preceptor, Ayya Tathaaloka Bhikkhuni spoke with me about “independence”. Traditionally there is a period of a number of years whereby the student lives in “dependence” upon her preceptor to be mentored in the ways of being a nun and to see that she has the skills and maturity to navigate on her own. “Independence” is offered when sufficient maturity is present.  Being offered independence brought me a quiet joy,  a renewed sense of ease and well being and another sense of completion  just as the gathering was closing.

 

In the time since the gathering has been over, as I have thought about all the many challenges of the last few years and what it has taken to weather each of them. My thoughts return to the practices of opening to what is present,  finding balance and letting go.  As I let go, I let go into awareness. As I let go into awareness, I know that I am not separate from others or the natural world. Knowing that the practice works, knowing that  everything can be part of my practice, I reflect on the turmoil I have been through and the resolution, inner peace and joy that I experience. Seeing that the practice works is  where I continue to find my resolve.

August 1 Papa, Charles Saul Fein, died.  He had been sick for 22 years and courageously fought a battle with cancer. Finally he was done. He died at home living with my brother David Fein and his large family comprising four generations; Michelle, Carolyn, Rose and McKenzie.

 

Dad was a passionate man about three primary things; his children, the University of Chicago and cosmology. He was a deliberate parent and thought carefully about ways to instill in us values and capacity to forge our own way in the world. From the time David and I were tiny he taught us how to think for ourselves, shared his vast knowledge of biology, physiology, paleontology, physics, cosmology, strategy, and business,­­ as well as his love for animals, beauty, elegance and his remarkable humor.

 

I share some stories with you so that you have an impression of this remarkable man and the way that he shaped me.

 

As a little girl I remember he would blow on my belly and make a loud noise. It felt so funny I would squeal in giggles. Recently he brought it up. I was surprised when he said that he did this not only just for the fun of it but so as little children we could grow up knowing what ecstasy was.

 

David tells of playing with marbles. They weren’t just marbles; they were atoms and electrons – building blocks to make a world. When David realized that we could create the world, his mind fashioned things entirely differently.

 

He wanted us to think for ourselves and be able to discern what was true even in the face of an authority who may think differently. He would deliberately say things that weren’t true and delight when we would say, “Daddy, that’s ridiculous.”

 

When we were little, one of our favorite ways of spending time together was to pick one the “Life” series books and crawl into Papa’s lap. I have fond memories of spending hours looking through the pages. He never tired of telling us what the pictures meant in language appropriate to our age.

 

After Mom and Dad divorced, we were often eating in restaurants and driving back and forth between parents’ homes. It was rare that the paper dinner mats weren’t transformed into drawing boards,  paper napkins into lessons. While waiting for dinner to arrive, the plates, saucers and glasses would be turned into planets to show their relationship with each other and the influence they had in our world. Driving home, Dad would often get so excited about a subject that he would pull over to the side of the road and continue talking- sometimes for hours before we could get back on track and get home.   Sometimes we would get caught up in Dad’s excitement and sometime we were tired, restless and bored and just wanted to get home. With Dad I learned about the many edges that are involved in training.

 

When David was 16, Dad was instrumental in developing a plan to make him the second youngest person ever to reach the South Pole as a Sea Cadet on a Coast Guard cutter going to Antarctica. Having an unreasonable idea and making it happen changed David’s life.  Not only was his outlook on what was possible in this world transformed, so too his place within it radically shifted.

 

Dad supported us, believed in us and loved us.  We felt the impact.

 

Since moving to Colorado Springs in 2009, we have had a lot of time together. After living abroad for over 20 years I felt caught up and current. We laughed, we cried and we shared in topics that were enlivening.

 

Dad’s was passionate about medical management. We were taught to fully understand our own medical problems, think through the treatment protocols that the doctor prescribed and only agree to what made complete sense.  When I was in India in 1987, before joining the monastery, this had significant ramifications. After my encounter with the bear, I had rabies injections. About 6 weeks later I developed a 105 degree fever and needed more medical care.  Traveling alone, I went to a clinic and saw a doctor who diagnosed me with typhoid and prescribed some medicine. I bought the medicine and then thought about what had happened. Even nearing delirium, I tracked what the doctors had done and concluded that they couldn’t have been accurate in their diagnosis.  This motivated me to get to a medical center that had tests and treatments that made sense. The tests came back that I had hepatitis. Further, I discovered the medicine that had been prescribed earlier for typhoid was extremely liver toxic. In this instance my capacity for medical management even under duress made a difference. Taking the typhoid medicine could have killed me.

 

When I told Dad about my monumental decision to become a nun, he was quiet and sad for a while and then shifted. He tuned into the fact that I had come very close to death while in India. He would have preferred that I became a professor of Buddhism and thereby did something that was “in the catalog”  rather than the utterly alien vocation of being a nun. He said he would miss me being close by and having children of my own that he could love and be part of their growing up. Yet he was grateful that I wasn’t a  pile of bones in a bear cave. He also recognized how rare it is to have a measure of peace in one’s life and to live one’s calling. He  sent me off to the monastery giving me his highest blessing.

 

Dad was truly brilliant.  After getting a degree from the University of Connecticut, Dad Entered PhD program at University of Chicago in Medical Physiology.  The University of Chicago was unique in its approach to education. In one class, there were no exams and no curriculum, just an open laboratory to “do stuff”. The disorientation was quickly replaced with exhilaration that he could do whatever he wanted – for someone of his creativity and intellectual capacity it was a dream come true. He set about making a type of microscope. When Professor Patrick Wall came over to see it, Dad was devastated that it didn’t work and frightened that he was going to fail but nevertheless explained to him what it was and how it was supposed to work. Professor Wall was nonplussed that it didn’t function as planned because he said that his thinking was correct and it would have worked if it had been machined from metal.  He continued by saying that that original thinking was rare and singularly important in research. The next day Professor Wall asked Dad to come his own lab and specifically invited him to evaluate the experiment he was in the middle of. Dad took one look at it, took a deep breath and said, “There is nothing in all of physics, chemistry or biology that suggests there is any way this experiment is going to  work.” Frightened that his truth telling had just insulted the head of the department and expecting to be thrown out of the university, he was shaking when Professor Wall called him to his office the next day. Prepared for the worst, he was not at all ready for what followed. Professor Wall said to him, “I want you to be a full partner in developing research on the mechanism of nerve impulse. And when we publish, we are publishing side by side.” Dad was just a freshman in graduate school at that time. He went home and thought about it. Shortly thereafter, the nature of the sodium pump as the basis for the mechanism of the nerve impulse came in a series of insights all in a matter of seconds. He left school as a result of mononucleosis and never was able to publish. However his insights were proven by Jens Christian Skou, who was awarded a Nobel Prize in 1997.

 

In 1991, Dad came to Amaravati to offer me my alms bowl in the ceremony of my nun’s ordination. The somber occasion didn’t dissuade him from the humorous opportunities that presented themselves. Before coming he noticed that the flight he booked said that they could accommodate special diets. So he called up the airlines.  He told the customer service rep that he had a special diet that required equal parts dinosaur, sheep and camel meat roasted over an open fire. The customer service representative said without missing a beat, “No problem sir. We will be able to accommodate that but it may delay your preferred departure date as we are going to have to build a new type of plane that is equipped to handle open flames.”

 

Ajahn Sumedho was my preceptor for my first ‘going forth’ and until this last October, the spiritual director of Amaravati Buddhist Monastery. He is a similar age to my father. The first time they met, the very first thing Dad said was, “I trained my children to be independent, but my daughter has out done my wildest  expectations!” As I listened to the two of them roar with laughter, I smiled delighted.

 

While at the monastery he wrote the “Children of the Universe” as tribute to his baby brother Teddy who died on his own 6^th birthday. In finding some completion with something that was deeply disturbing to him he made a tribute to all who have lost loved ones.

 

My relationship with Dad has evolved since I was child. I have had many occasions when I have had to stand up to him. If he micro managed me as I was washing dishes, I turned to look at him and said, “Exactly who do you think you are talking to?” He respected me for doing that and changed tact quickly.

 

It was sobering when Dad needed help and couldn’t ask for it. I remember once changing plans and going to back to Colorado to help him find suitable housing, clear that I would be doing this without asking permission. Doing things for Dad without his permission was a significant reversal of roles.

 

These last years, Dad lived with David, Michelle and Rose, his great granddaughter and later Carolyn and McKenzie, his second great granddaughter. Michelle was the one not only who invited but insisted that he live with them. Dad told me many times the impact it had on him that he lived with them and that Michelle was the one who instigated it. I also heard about the times Rose would come down the stairs by her own volition before bedtime and say, “I love you Zeidi,” a Hebrew endearment for great grandfather.  Sometimes Rose would bring her teddies and tigers to Dad when he wasn’t feeling well. Dad told me that once last year when he was in a lot of discomfort, Rose climbed into bed with him and played ‘piggy’s with him- a four year old’s remedy for all that ails. I heard repeatedly of Dad’s delight of the special dinners that David would make for him. Dad repeatedly used  the word “magnificent” describing David and the way that he felt cared for by him. I continue to be profoundly grateful that Dad was so well cared for and rejoiced watching him relax into their love.

 

I learned from Dad not only in the ways that he was brilliant but also in the things he didn’t do well.  When he negotiated his needs at other’s expense, it motivated me to find ways to tune into the situation around me and communicate so that everyone’s needs are met.

 

Over these last few years when Dad would dig into something and wouldn’t budge, I would shout, “I am going to put on your tomb stone, “I did it my way!” He’d say, “Oye Vey!”

 

In February, David organized for Professor Michael S. Turner from University of Chicago to come to their house and talk with Dad. Prof. Turner is world renown in the field of cosmology and physics and coined the term “Dark Matter”.  He is a rock star in his own world. They spent an hour talking about cosmology and Dad shared his own theory of black holes. He was so excited, so delighted and so honored by the visit; he talked about it until his last days. At the time of the visit I said, “Dad, now you can die in peace.” He said to me, “Yes.”

 

The time before the last I saw him he showed me a picture of “the Self Made Man” a statue of a man chiseling himself out of stone and excitedly said, “This is me, this is my life this is who I am! I have been doing this all my life! If I were a wealthy man I would offer every university a statue so students can see that what they think and do shapes who they become; shapes their destiny.”

 

Dad deliberately trained us to stand on our own two feet, fight for what was right, think and take care of ourselves and those we love and to understand how we frame things. Grateful for his tremendous love, support, and all that he taught me, I feel proud that he has been my Dad and will miss him. Grateful that David and I can go through this together and that the family comes closer as we navigate the full range of our feelings around his death.

 

I am left with the visceral experience of an extraordinary man who is part of who I am and how I experience the world.

 

Yet grief is a river, it flows, changes. Some days I feel deeply tired and achy. Some days I feel grounded and clear. My sadness ebbs and flows in a rhythm with my gratitude. I turn a corner and find myself in an entirely new internal landscape; each day is new. Attending to loss, my attention sharpens on what is important in life.  My ongoing commitment to awaken is energized from all that he has given as well as his death. When I attune to wanting to be close and wanting to connect, I recognize that my wanting is there because I have learned how to love.  It is a gift. And yet, this longing for connection and closeness pulls me to touch a Divine love, touch my true nature and original mind- a love that all at the same time includes, transcends and embraces everything, even death.  When I ask, “What is left when everything falls away?”; I feel peace.

 

If you would like to be part of this tribute to Charles Fein, please read the poem below either by yourself or with friends and family. If you care to let us know where you read it and what effect it had on you, we welcome knowing. Your photos of reading it are welcome too. If you would like to translate it into your mother tongue, please feel welcome to do so and send us your translation. We would like to create a foundation that supports “The Children of the Universe” being shared around the world and a fund so that we can offer one statue of the ‘Self Made Man’ to the University of Chicago in tribute to Dad’s last wish.

 

Charles Saul Fein
September 20^th, 1927 – August 1^st, 2012

 

CHILDREN OF THE UNIVERSE

LET US LIGHT A CANDLE TONIGHT in loving memory of all our beloved family and dear friends who have left this brief life too soon.  We shall always hold you in our hearts with love and devotion and treasure that precious time we had together.  It is our deepest hope and desire that your body and soul and spirit and life force return to the universe ever so gently, always nurtured and sustained by the love and affection we send with you.  May all dearly departed ease your journey towards infinity, guide you to eternal peace and surround you with love and beauty forever.

 

AND THERE IS MORE TO BEHOLD:

 

Let us surely honor and respect those generations that preceded us for 5,500 years in the Hebrew faith and tradition of the patriarchs Abraham, Isaac and Jacob and the unimaginable suffering our people endured.

 

AND THERE IS MORE TO BEHOLD:

 

Let us honor and respect those countless multitudes struggling since the dawn of civilization 12,000 years ago in the crucible of nature that shaped cultures and nations.

 

AND THERE IS MORE TO BEHOLD:

 

Let us honor and respect the family of man, emerging from the forest primeval eight million years ago, fighting fiercely to survive, launching human destiny.

 

AND THERE IS MORE TO BEHOLD:

 

Let us honor and respect all of our biological ancestors as well, evolving miraculously from that fateful moment when life began on our planet from dust four billion years ago.

 

AND THERE IS MORE TO BEHOLD:

 

Let us honor and respect the Sun and Mother Earth formed five billion years ago in cosmic fire and fury, then nurtured and sustained in an unbroken chain the fragile life we treasure today.

 

AND THERE IS MORE TO BEHOLD:

 

And surely we must honor and respect the universe itself with all its mysteries, created fourteen billion years ago out of the void, at the beginning of time and space and still unfolding.

 

AND THERE IS MORE TO BEHOLD:

 

And at last, we will honor and respect our present family and friends and those yet to be born, whose destiny will carry our hopes and dreams and aspirations along with their own through future generations on their inexorable march to eternity.

 

AND THERE IS MORE TO BEHOLD:

 

For truly we are Children of the Universe, minds yearning for wisdom and spirits striving for enlightenment, made of elements forged in the very stars; heirs to the sustaining teachings and traditions of family, faith and civilization, blessed with freedom and eternally grateful for the love and devotion so generously bestowed upon us with the gift of life itself.

 

DEDICATED THIS DAY

 FOR ALL THAT HAS PAST

 AND THAT WHICH IS YET TO COME.

 

Written by Charles S. Fein, September 1^st, 1991
at Amaravati Buddhist Monastery

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A talk given at the 13thWestern Buddhist Monastic Conference By Venerable. Bhikkhu Bodhi  June 2006, Bhavana Society, West Virginia

Posted with Venerable Bhikkhu Bodhi’s permission.

 

First I should say, not as an excuse but by way of explanation, that I learned that I was to be a presenter only two days ago. I was a bit disoriented when I learned this, for I hadn’t prepared anything to speak about in advance. At first, I decided to make it easy for myself and give a presentation based on a paper that I already had on hand. But one statement that Venerable Heng Liang made yesterday, at the end of her talk, kept on ringing through my mind. It was the statement: “If a monastic Sangha doesn’t become well established in America, I don’t see much hope for the Dharma here.” Today I woke up long before dawn and those words immediately popped into my mind. I felt that I had somehow to address this topic in my talk. Suddenly ideas started to come together in my mind, at that very early hour. I sat down and started jotting down notes, and before long the draft of a paper was taking shape. Due to this morning’s activities, I could type out my notes only after lunch, and I just managed to print out a version to refer to during my talk ten minutes ago. The ideas aren’t well organized, but I will present them anyway. Please don’t mind if they are a bit out of sequence.

 

In my talk I want to consider how we can move in a direction whereby the Sangha assumes its special role as the “torch-bearer” of the Buddha’s message, yet does so in a way that doesn’t alienate lay people, but on the contrary can win their trust, confidence, and devotion. Here in the United States, and maybe more broadly in the West, we have a rather unusual situation, matched perhaps only by Japan, where the most prominent teaching roles in several Buddhist traditions have been taken over by the laity, and not seldom this has been done with the blessings of members of the monastic Sangha. Sometimes, in fact, lay teachers train and even certify monastic Sangha members as teachers. It seems to me that the training in the Sangha should prepare monks and nuns to serve as Dharma teachers, for they have dedicated their lives to this purpose; yet in today’s world, we also have to prepare earnest lay people to understand, practice, and teach the Dharma, which implies a respect for their potentials as practitioners and teachers. Yet this should be done within a system that recognizes the monastic Sangha as the custodian of the Dharma as well as the field of merit for the lay community.

 

Now, in a traditional Buddhist country like Sri Lanka, it isn’t unusual for lay people to become Dharma teachers. They give discourses, they conduct classes, they give meditation instructions, and sometimes conduct meditation courses and retreats; but when they do so, they’re almost always nested within a system that gives priority to the monastic order. Usually they will have studied and trained under monastic teachers, and they’ll continue to pay homage to the monastic Sangha as such, not merely to individual monastic teachers. If any lay teacher turns against the monastic Sangha, those lay devotees who have faith in the Sangha will steer clear of them. Such teachers – and there are a sprinkling of them nowadays in Sri Lanka – are usually recognizable by the idiosyncratic character of their teaching.

 

In traditional pre-modern Buddhism, the roles for laity and monastics are clearly defined, and there is also a clearly defined version of the Dharma for each. This structure, though, can be rigid and limiting. The laity see their primary task to be that of acquiring merit, which will ensure them a favorable rebirth in their next existence and provide supporting conditions for the attainment of the ultimate Buddhist goal, nibbāna. The practice for the laypeople that goes along with this task is primarily giving (dāna), which usually means giving food to monks, observing precepts, undertaking devotional practices, and practicing short periods of meditation, usually on special observance days. The meditation practiced is primarily recollection of the Buddha, recollection of the Sangha, and loving-kindness meditation. Asian lay Buddhists who have been subject to modern influences emanating from the West have developed a new understanding of their roles, and so, while they continue to support the monastic order and look up to the monks as the custodians of the Dharma, they are also intent on learning the Dharma in depth and on practicing intensive insight meditation.

 

The roles of monastic persons in theory are intensive study of the Dharma and meditation, as well as performing services for the laity. What happens in practice, however, in most temples in Asian Theravada countries, is that the role of performing services for the laity gains the upper hand; it has even become the major function of temple monks. Even intensive, in-depth study of the Dharma has faded out, and the practice of meditation has almost vanished, so that it is reduced to just five or ten minutes of quiet sitting in the daily devotional service. Forest monks often place more emphasis on meditation in the hope of reaching true attainment.

 

For all its shortcomings, in traditional Asian Buddhism, these activities take place against a long-standing background that includes trust and confidence in the Three Jewels as objects of devotion and a world view that is determined largely by the teachings of the suttas and the commentaries. It is built upon solid trust in the law of karma and rebirth and upon an aspiration for nibbāna as a state of world-transcending realization.

 

Modern Westerners, in contrast, come to the Dharma from an entirely different stance of consciousness. They generally have a much higher level of education than traditional village Buddhists. Many Westerners will have read widely in psychology and in fields that might be grouped under the heading of “spirituality” and “higher consciousness.” They also approach the Dharma with different problems in mind and they therefore naturally seek different solutions.

 

When Westerners come to Buddhism, they bring to their encounter with the Dharma an acute sense of what I shall call “existential suffering.” By this expression, I’m not referring to clinical depression, or a disposition to morbid states of mind, or any type of psychopathology. What I mean is a gnawing sense of lack, a feeling of incompleteness or inadequacy, that can’t be filled by any of the ordinary sources of enjoyment. This sense of existential suffering can coexist with a personality that is, by all other criteria, quite sound and healthy. Sometimes existential suffering takes the form of a feeling of loneliness that can’t be eliminated by any number of social contacts or human relationships; sometimes it’s a feeling that “my life is empty, devoid of meaning and purpose”; or sometimes it’s just a conviction that there has to be more to life than acquiring rewards and trophies in the great American success story. For those who come from a deeply religious background and have lost their faith, it can manifest as a feeling of infinite absence, the absence of God that has to be filled with something else to give an ultimate meaning to life, an objective source of meaning or purpose without which life seems pointless and absurd.

 

This sense of existential suffering, or “fundamental lack,” is the primary motive that drives most Westerners to seek the Dharma. People troubled by existential suffering come to the Dharma in search of what I would call “radical therapy.” Since they generally aren’t psychopathological, they aren’t using the Dharma as a psychotherapy. Though some have criticized them for doing so, in my observation this isn’t the case. But they are approaching it as what we might call an  “existential therapy.” They are trying to fill a hole at the bottom of their existence. They are seeking above all a practice that they can integrate into their daily lives in order to transform the felt quality of their lives. They aren’t seeking explanations; they aren’t seeking a new religion; and generally, they aren’t seeking a new system of beliefs.

 

They come to the Dharma seeking a radical therapy, a method that will provide them with concrete, tangible, and immediate changes in the way they experience their worlds. And most Buddhist teachers – or rather, let me say, most Dharma teachers – are presenting the Dharma as exactly that. They are presenting the Dharma as a practice, a way, a path, that will help ameliorate this disturbing sense of existential suffering. They are presenting it as a radical, pragmatic, existential therapy that does not require any beliefs, that does not ask for any more faith than a readiness to apply the method and see what kind of results one can get from it. What is being given is something that is ably captured by the title of an extremely popular book on Buddhism, a title and a book that encapsulate very well the nature of this lay Dharma practice. The title of the book is Buddhism Without Beliefs.

 

Why did this sense of existential suffering start to set in so dramatically in the United States and Western Europe right at the time that they reached the height of their technological and industrial power? Why did it set in among the well-educated, affluent middle and upper middle classes? To raise and address these questions is not irrelevant to our concerns, because to do so will help us to understand the transformation that Buddhism has been undergoing in its passage from Asia to the West. In my view, this sense of existential suffering set in just at that time, and just here, because the technological revolution that we underwent during that period was bought at a price – a steep price that we are still being forced to pay. The price is the alienation of human beings from themselves, from nature, and from each other. It is generally the well educated and affluent who feel the pain of this alienation most acutely, and thus the sense of anomie hits them hardest. This alienation leads to an overwhelming sense of purposelessness that pervades all aspects of our life. It infects our human relations, which become mechanical and competitive. It infects our relations with nature, as we turn natural wonders into national parks and dream worlds into Disneyworlds. It invades our relations with ourselves, haunting us in our most private moments of solitude. Even religion becomes a matter of Tel-evangelical campaigns aimed at boosting membership figures or lobbying around issues that are considered important by the so-called Religious Right.

 

Underlying this project aimed at achieving the technological conquest of nature or the technological conquest of the world, is another project occurring at a deeper level. This is the project of bringing concrete actuality under the control and domination of our conceptually constructed pictures of actuality. However, when we attempt to do this, there is inevitably a gulf, a gap, between the conceptual constructs that we create and the concrete actuality that they are intended to represent. The conceptual constructs can never successfully capture the concrete actuality as it is in itself and adequately represent it; then, at some level, this inadequacy of conceptualization becomes felt as painful. Through conceptualization we aim to manipulate things, to bend things to our wills, to make them subservient to our human purposes, and the conceptualization often serves this purpose well. But this project of manipulation is inevitably driven from deep within by a desire to dominate reality, to make reality completely amenable to the dictates of our will; this project turns actuality into a set of tools to be used by a self. However, the more we do this, the further removed things become from us, the more they escape our attempts to dominate them, and this then generates that deep feeling of inner anguish that I call “existential suffering.”

 

Now those Americans – and Westerners in general – who turn to Buddhism or to Dharma practice because they are oppressed, either consciously or unconsciously, by the sense of existential suffering see the Dharma as a means of restoring a sense of meaning and purpose to their lives. Not only do they see it in this way, but it works in this way. It helps them to overcome this bitter feeling of alienation from themselves, from others, and from the natural world. In the Theravada tradition, or the “Vipassana movement,” the practice of mindfulness serves this purpose by helping one to cut through the net of conceptualization and obtain a fresh and direct encounter with immediate experience. It helps one to make a fresh and direct contact with one’s experience through the senses, to come back into the present moment, to make more direct contact with the workings of one’s own mind, and thereby to have fresher and more vital, more dynamic, more enriching human relationships. And so mindfulness meditation is seen as the technique that takes us back to the concrete experience of actuality, to actuality which is always fresh at every moment. For most people this is quite a startling revelation.

 

Now this function of mindfulness is common both to classical Buddhism and to meditation practice as taught within the lay Vipassana movement.1 Given that this function of mindfulness is common to the two, we can raise the questions: “Why does the lay Vipassana movement remain primarily a lay Vipassana movement? Why doesn’t it evolve towards a monastic Sangha? Why doesn’t it look towards a monastic Sangha as a ‘polestar’ providing the ideal towards which its members should be striving?” And we can ask: “Is there a significant difference between the style of mindfulness meditation as taught within the lay Vipassana movement and mindfulness meditation as taught within a classical monastic-based system?”

 

As a way of answering this question, I want to go back and take another look at the type of suffering that Dharma practice is intended to address, at what I have called existential suffering, the sense of lack, the sense of meaninglessness, the feeling of alienation. Now, from the perspective of classical Buddhism, this sense of lack or voidness of meaning would be seen as emblematic, that is it would be seen as pointing beyond itself to the intrinsic and ever-present unsatisfactory nature of samsaric existence itself. And when this is seen, when this is recognized, a practitioner’s natural response would be to head in the direction of renunciation, to leave behind the home life and to set out for the homeless life, seeking to solve the great problem of birth and death. If, however, one doesn’t yet have the strength to go forth into homelessness, or if one’s conditions aren’t suitable for taking this step, one would practice at home with a mind that slants in the direction of renunciation that inclines in the direction of renunciation, and looks towards renunciation as a worthy goal. And if one cannot practice at home with a mind that slants to renunciation, one would still naturally respect and revere those who have left the household life and taken up the homeless life; one would be full of admiration for those who have exchanged the garments of the householder for the ochre brown- maroon robe of the Buddhist monk or nun. One would recognize these virtuous and dedicated monks and nuns as the ones who represent the ideals and aspirations of Buddhism; one would see them as people who have fulfilled one’s own inner ideals and aspirations. One would revere them as bearing the lifeblood of the Buddha in their veins. One would regard them, as the ancient expression puts it, as truly “a field of merit for the world.” 1 Naturally I’m speaking from the standpoint of the form of Buddhism with which I’m most familiar. In doing so I don’t want to marginalize those who are coming from other Buddhist traditions, but I actually want you to relate what I’m saying here to your own traditions, because I’m sure the same transformation that is affecting the Theravada tradition is affecting other Buddhist traditions. I believe the Zen tradition has been strongly affected by this trend, and I believe the same trend can be observed in the presentations of Tibetan Buddhism that use Dzogchen and Mahamudra as their main meditation vehicles. It seems the Gelug tradition has been somewhat immune from this because they generally stress the need to obtain a comprehensive view of the Dharma beginning from the fundamentals.

 

However, for the sense of existential suffering to give rise to this perception of what I call the “intrinsic and ever-existing unsatisfactory nature of samsaric existence,” two additional factors are needed. What are these two additional factors? One of these is faith. In Pali, it’s called saddhā. And what does saddhā mean? It means faith in the Triple Gem: the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha. It means faith in the Buddha as the fully enlightened teacher; faith in the Dharma as the Buddha’s teaching – the full teaching, not just a selection of sayings, cleverly arranged and organized and quoted on occasion, often misquoted according to one’s convenience; and faith in the Sangha. This last doesn’t mean faith in the community of those who are practicing together (which is not the meaning of the word “Sangha”); it means faith, first in the ariyan Sangha, the invisible spiritual community of those who have attained realization of the world-transcending Dharma – and then it’s also faith in the monastic Sangha as a community (though not every monk and nun!)–a community that abides here in this world as the visible, human, embodied representation of the ariyan Sangha.

 

I have to emphasize that the word saddhā as used in the Buddhist texts–the word we translate as faith–is specifically tied to the Buddha Dharma. It has become fashionable amongst lay Dharma teachers, while knocking down “beliefs,” to extol faith. Faith, however, is then explained in such a way that its link to the Triple Gem is either eroded or fully broken, so that one could have faith in almost anything that’s considered good, sacred, and holy, and it’s still acceptable.

 

Faith has various aspects; it isn’t synonymous with belief, but one of its aspects is cognitive, and that involves holding certain beliefs. Among them is the belief that the historical Buddha, Gotama of the Sakyan clan, was the fully enlightened Buddha of this historical period; and the belief that his teaching is the teaching that leads to enlightenment and liberation; and the belief that those who have followed and practiced his teaching with a high degree of success have gained world-transcending realization. That is, for classical Buddhism faith is uniquely rooted in the Triple Gem, and rooted in them partly by way of certain beliefs. Faith also involves an emotional component. It involves devotion, and in this case it is devotion directed towards the Triple Gem, above all love and devotion directed towards the Buddha as the human being who has perfectly realized all the noble qualities and ideals expressive of the Dharma; also, as the one who, out of great compassion, has taken up the burden of teaching and transforming obtuse sentient beings like ourselves. I find that this aspect of devotion is conspicuously lacking in the contemporary lay Buddhist scene here in the U.S. With a few exceptions, we hardly see traces of devotion and reverence for the Buddha in any of the popular Western Buddhist journals.

 

So one factor necessary for this sense of existential suffering to lead to renunciation and the step into the monastic life is faith. The other factor is “right view” (sammā ditthi), and this is a factor on which I want to place a great deal of emphasis. In the classical teachings, there are many levels of right view, but for convenience’s sake we can speak of two kinds. The foundational level is the right view of karma and its fruits, and to properly understand the working of karma and its fruits, one has to consider them in connection with the capacity of our actions to bring forth their results through a sequence of many lives; that is, the right view of karma and its fruit means an understanding, at least in principle, of how karma generates rebirth. Many Americans (and Westerners) are hesitant to accept the teaching of karma and rebirth because they aren’t part of Western culture. Some even boldly proclaim that this is part of the “cultural baggage” of Asian Buddhism that we have to drop in order to forge a new “American (or Western) Buddhism” that will be meaningful to people here in the West. Again, they sometimes argue that such teachings as those on karma and rebirth are just shackles of dogma and belief with which the Buddhists of Asia   have bound themselves. Today, it’s said, we have outgrown religious dogmas and beliefs; we want to become totally free, in the present, and this means we must become free of all those Asian Buddhist dogmas and beliefs.

 

My response to this is to offer an analogy. Suppose in India a new university were being founded and they would plan to open a physics department. Would the physics professors start to debate among themselves whether they should be teaching the Newtonian laws of motion, or the laws of thermodynamics, or Einsteinian relativity theory? Suppose some professor among them would stand up and say, “These laws and theories come from the West. They aren’t part of our cultural heritage. We shouldn’t be obliged to teach them in our university. They are part of the cultural baggage of the West that we have to drop when we teach physics in Asia.” The other professors would look at him and think he’s gone mad. Before they dropped the teaching of these physical laws, they would certainly drop him from the department. Why so? Because the laws of physics aren’t taught just because they are part of someone’s cultural heritage. They are taught because they explain phenomena that are universally true, because they are just as valid in Beijing, Calcutta, Nairobi, and Istanbul as they are in London, New York, or Buenos Aires. And that is the meaning of physics.

 

So too, the teachings of karma and rebirth are intended to explain the universal laws of the moral life; they explain laws that are vitally important to us, since they are the laws that govern our future destiny from life to life, the laws that underlie our movements through beginningless samsara and that govern the whole process by which one progresses from the state of a deluded worldling to that of a liberated arahant or a perfectly enlightened Buddha. These teachings (at least the oldest versions of them) come from the Buddha himself. They were part of the content of his enlightenment, and he taught them to human beings for a good reason. These laws teach us how to make basic ethical decisions in our daily lives; they steer us away from evil and guide us towards the good; they form the backbone of Buddhist spirituality. They are intrinsic to the very meaning of the Dharma. Without gaining some insight into these laws, thinking, “Just by being mindful of the present I can attain the highest realizations,” one will be like a man who goes to a lake with a sieve, thinking to use it to collect water and fill his bucket. In the end, he will go back home with an empty bucket.

 

Therefore, the right view of karma and rebirth — of karma as a force that generates repeated existence in the round of birth and death — is the fundamental background right view against which the second type of right view derives its full meaning. The second type of right view — the higher right view that leads to liberation — is the right view of the Four Noble Truths. And now I’m going to make a statement that might again sound a little bold, but I’ll make it all the same: The Four Noble Truths cannot be taught properly, cannot be understood properly, unless they are taught and understood against the background of the right view of karma and its fruits, against the background of an understanding of how karma brings renewed existence, against the background of a comprehensive understanding of our samsaric predicament. I would add, though, as an aside, that when introducing the Buddha’s teaching to people relatively new to Buddhism, one has to make adjustments. One can’t lay the teaching of karma and rebirth on novice students as a necessary article of belief as soon as they enter the door for a first talk on Buddhism. Thus, I believe, as a general principle one can give — and indeed, one should give — what I would call an “adaptive” or ”accommodative” presentation of the Four Noble Truths, as the Buddha himself did on occasion, without bringing in rebirth; one doesn’t have to frighten people away at once by bringing in teachings they aren’t prepared to accept. So one can give a psychological presentation of the four truths, showing how experiential suffering arises and ceases in relation to our craving and clinging.  This will enable people to get a grip on the Buddha’s teachings as something that can be verified, at least in part, within their present experience. But once their confidence becomes established in the teaching, one should lead them on to a wider, more complete understanding of the Dharma.

 

Therefore, I would say, if one wants to give a truly comprehensive, fully adequate explanation of the Four Noble Truths, a presentation that treats them in depth, one has to bring in the right view of karma and its fruits as the background and to treat the Four Noble Truths as a diagnosis of our samsaric predicament. If one wants to clearly explain how the five aggregates of clinging are dukkha in the deepest sense, one has to explain how these five aggregates are ”acquired” again and again through our craving for new existence. If one wants to explain, again in the deepest sense, how craving functions as the second noble truth, the cause of dukkha, one has to explain how craving (tanhā) is ponobhavika, productive of renewed existence. And if one wants to make it clear how the elimination of craving brings about the cessation of dukkha, of suffering, again one has to explain how the removal of craving brings the round of repeated existence to an end, leading to the unconditioned peace and freedom of nibbāna. If one doesn’t do this for people who are ready for it, whose minds are ripe, then one is not leading them to an adequate understanding of the Dharma. If one keeps on feeding them adaptive presentations of the Dharma, feeding them teachings and practices that are designed to enrich their lives, but does not steer them towards the ultimate truth that transcends life and death, steer them towards a vision of the face of the Deathless, then one is not serving as a fully responsible transmitter of the Dharma.

 

What is happening today, within what is broadly called “the Theravada tradition,” is that the Dharma is being taught primarily on the basis of the equation: “Dharma equals mindfulness meditation equals bare attention.” Mindfulness meditation is thus being taken out of its original context, the context of the full Noble Eightfold Path–which includes right view as I explained it above, and also right intention as including the intention of renunciation, and right morality as including various factors of restraint over bodily and verbal behavior, and right effort as an endeavor to transform the mind through the abandoning of unwholesome qualities and the development of wholesome qualities–and it is instead being taught as a means for the heightening and intensification of experience simply through being attentive to what is occurring in the present moment. This is the way that the sense of existential malaise that I spoke of earlier is being ameliorated; this is how the alienation from direct experience is being overcome, namely, by using mindfulness meditation as a bridge to take us back to the living experience of the present moment. So because we in the West have become trapped in our conceptual constructs, because our society and civilization have become overwhelmed by our own project of trying to master the world by schemes of conceptual interpretation, we seek refuge in the non-conceptuality of bare mindfulness practice as a means to greater peace and inner fulfillment. We come back into direct contact with our own experience by paying attention to what is happening on each occasion of experience, which leads to what I call “the heightening and intensification of experience.” This mode of practice, I say, does lead to greater peace and inner freedom. What is in question, though, is whether it can intrinsically lead to the ultimate peace and perfect freedom that the practice of the Dharma is intended to bring. And the answer that I have come to, based on my own understanding, is that on its own it can’t. Right mindfulness, which is more than just bare attention, occurs in the full context of the Noble Eightfold Path, and presupposes faith, right understanding, right intentions, right conduct, and various other factors.

 

From the fact that the practice of mindfulness meditation brings what I call “a deeper and clearer appreciation of direct experience,” I want to draw what might strike you as a startling conclusion: as long as mindfulness meditation is being taught in this way, monasticism will necessarily appear to be just one option among others. The monastic life and the household life will appear to be equally viable options; the celibate life and the life of one engaged in an ethical sexual relationship will seem equally valid ways of living in accordance with the Dharma. In fact, it might even be argued that for a Dharma practitioner the household life is actually more challenging, and therefore richer and more rewarding. Why so? Because the monastic life creates artificial boundaries between the sacred and the secular; it erects walls between the worldly and the worldtranscending; it cuts one off from possibilities of new experience; it prevents one from finding new opportunities to apply mindfulness to daily life. And thus, the argument goes, it is therefore a narrower, more constricted, more constricting, more impoverished lifestyle, a more disempowering lifestyle than that of the earnest lay practitioner.

 

If this were true, though, there would have been no reason for the Buddha to establish a monastic order of celibate monks and nuns. To see why he did so, let us take another metaphor. Now, if one doesn’t present a broad and clear overview of the Dharma, the celibate life and the life of marital commitment within the bounds of the precepts will seem just like alternative stepping stones leading across the stream. But if one does present a broad and clear overview of the Dharma, then they won’t appear simply as alternative stepping stones. Within a comprehensive picture of the Dharma, if one knows what the “near shore” is, and what the “far shore” is, and how the different stepping stones fit together to lead from the near shore to the far shore, it will then become perfectly evident that the life of marital commitment within the bounds of the precepts is a stepping stone that is necessarily closer to the “near shore” than the celibate life, which is necessarily closer to the “far shore.” This is not to make judgments about the spiritual stature of the people involved in these lifestyles; for it is certainly the case that a person involved in a marital relationship guided by the precepts might be spiritually more advanced than a celibate person. I’m speaking not about individual cases, but about the lifestyles themselves: about celibacy vs. the ethical non-celibate life. Given that the cause of our bondage to samsāra is craving, and that craving for sensual pleasures is one type of craving, and that sexual passion is one of the most powerful manifestations of sensual craving–perhaps the most powerful–it follows that to indulge in sexual passion is to bind oneself to “this shore,” the cycle of birth and death, with one of the most powerful bonds conceivable. Given that the “far shore,” or nibbāna, is dispassion (virāga), and that the observance of celibacy is a means to curb lust or passion (rāga), it follows that the celibate life is potentially a more effective means towards the realization of the ultimate goal. Since monasticism is grounded upon celibacy, it therefore follows that monasticism is in principle more conducive to the ultimate goal of the Dharma than a lay life guided by the precepts. Again, this is not to make judgments about particular individuals, but simply about the broad contours of lifestyles. It might still happen that a lay person might be far more diligent than a monk or nun; it could even happen that at any time lay Buddhists as a whole are living more admirable spiritual lives than the members of the monastic Sangha. But this still does not negate my general principle.

 

It seems to me that what has happened in the Theravada tradition–with perhaps parallel developments in other traditions–is that a particular Buddhist practice, namely the practice of mindfulness meditation, has been uprooted from its classical context and then taught against a different background. It is taught to people who, though they might have rejected the mechanistic world view of modern science, have minds that are still largely shaped by that same world view. It is taught to people who, though they may say that they don’t adopt any new “ism” including Buddhism, are still largely subscribing to the world view of materialism, even if they don’t want to admit it. At any rate, they often take an attitude of agnosticism, which is still an “ism.” And this is going to shape their experience of Buddhist meditation, to shape the way they appropriate Buddhist meditation, so that meditation will no longer be functioning as a liberative discipline in the traditional sense, but as a therapeutic technique. It may not be a psychotherapy narrowly conceived, but it will still be an existential therapy intended to reconcile the individual to conditioned existence by opening up greater prospects of fulfillment within conditioned existence; it won’t transform itself into a path to emancipation from the limitations, the finitude, the flaws and faults of conditioned existence itself. It will be serving as a therapy for the sense of meaninglessness, the feeling of existential emptiness, that modern civilization has left as its legacy. It won’t be a way that transcends all therapeutic functions, a way that obliterates the kilesas, the defilements and delusions, at their root; a way that leads altogether beyond the vicious round of birth and death.

 

I want to briefly give one example of this. It concerns the contemplation of impermanence. Now for both the lay Vipassana teachers and for monastic Theravada Buddhism based on the Pali Canon, impermanence implies: “Don’t cling. If you cling to anything, you will undergo suffering.” But the two draw different conclusions from this thesis, indeed, almost contrary conclusions. For canonical Buddhism, impermanence is the passageway to a radical understanding of the dukkhalakkhana, the mark of suffering. “Whatever is impermanent is dukkha; whatever is impermanent, dukkha, and subject to change, that should be seen thus: ‘This is not mine, this I am not, this is not my self.’” Therefore, whatever there is among the five aggregates, the noble disciple sees this all as ”not mine, not I, not my self.” Seeing it thus, one becomes disenchanted with it. Being disenchanted, there comes dispassion. Through dispassion, there is liberation. And liberation (vimutti) here means the release of the mind from the primordial defilements, the āsavas and samyojanas, and release from the cycle of rebirths. But many lay Vipassana meditators see the fact of impermanence as a fact imbued with positive significance. True, to cling to what is impermanent brings suffering. But, it is said, one can immerse oneself fully in the impermanent without clinging to anything, and this is the lesson that is often drawn. So the fact that clinging to the impermanent brings suffering means that one should live in the world and experience everything with awe and wonder, “dancing with the ten thousand things without clinging to them.” Once again, we are led through the practice of mindfulness to a new affirmation and appreciation of the world. From the standpoint of classical Buddhism, this turns out to be a subtle re-affirmation of samsāra. Wisdom and compassion are the two “wings” of Buddhism, the two most excellent virtues, wisdom being the crowning intellectual virtue, compassion the crowning virtue of our affective nature. I want to hold that deep faith and right view are also necessary conditions for compassion to be brought to its fulfillment. Now compassion has many degrees and kinds, but for compassion to reach fullness and depth of development, it has to be grounded upon right view as a keen perception of the dangers and inherent unsatisfactoriness of conditioned existence. Without this perception, one can develop compassion towards those who are subject to the manifold types of experiential suffering — and of course there are countless numbers of beings undergoing such types of suffering all the time, so we are never deprived of opportunities to practice compassion — but our compassion still won’t reach its fullest and deepest dimensions. This only becomes possible when we take into account the boundless extent of samsaric suffering, the subtle fetters that keep beings tied to the round of becoming, and the hidden dangers that ever lurk before these beings (who, we are told, may well have been our mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters in countless past lives) as they move from life to life.

 

I believe that for monastic Buddhism to take root and become properly established, what is needed is a laity that has an intrinsic respect for monastics, and for lay people to develop this respect, two themes that must be emphasized again and again in the teaching of the Dharma are faith and right view. Perhaps we shouldn’t begin with heavy doses of Buddhism pietism and  teachings on the intricacies of Buddhist cosmology; but when the time is right to do so, we also have to be straightforward and unabashed in teaching people. Otherwise we will just become robed and shaven-headed teachers of mindfulness meditation, similar to our lay colleagues, and then the main difference will be that lay people will find greater affinity with the lay teachers, who can speak to them at a more intimate level of shared experience of the household life. Another theme we have to emphasize, without any fear or hesitation, is the contributions that monastics have made to the survival of the Dharma. We shouldn’t hesitate to speak about how the Buddha Dharma has survived down the centuries through the self-sacrificing efforts of monks and nuns, who had the courage and earnestness to give up the pleasures of mundane life and dedicate themselves fully to the cause of Buddhism, surrendering their very persons to the Triple Gem. And we have to draw the inevitable corollary: If the proper Dharma is to take root and flourish here in America, we need Americans to come forward and make that courageous move. Not just because it is “more conducive to their practice,” but because they truly have been swept off their feet by the Dharma and want to offer their lives to the Dharma in every respect. It is when lay people encounter monks and nuns leading lives of selfless dedication that they can appreciate the beauty and value of the monastic life, revere it, and bring forth a mind of generosity to support those who have entered its fold. I also want to add some concluding observations regarding the situation of lay Buddhists here in America. I don’t think that we should expect lay people today to revert to the roles of lay people in a traditional Buddhist culture, that is, to see their roles to be simply devout supporters of the monastic Sangha, providing their material necessities as a way of earning merit for a future birth; nor do I think this is desirable. I think in today’s world, lay people have much richer opportunities to lead a fuller Dharma life, and as monks and nuns we have to rejoice in this opportunity and try to encourage them. We should be of service to help them to realize their full potential as Dharma practitioners and teachers. We live at a time when people want and need to experience the concrete benefits to which the Dharma can lead, and they should have every chance to do so. This is a time when lay people will have more leisure and opportunity to participate in long-term meditation retreats, to study the Dharma in depth, and to live lifestyles that will approximate to those of monastics. This is also a time when there will be lay people who have the knowledge, experience, and communicative skills needed to teach the Dharma. Much thought has to be given to the task of establishing roles for lay Buddhists that can tap their talents, and we will have to adjust the social forms of Buddhism to the new conditions we find ourselves in today. We simply can’t expect Western Buddhism to imitate Asian Buddhism. And yet, I feel, for the true Dharma to flourish as the Buddha himself had envisaged it, a healthy development of Western Buddhism will have to preserve the position of the monastic Sangha as the torch-bearers of the Dharma. I say this, of course, not to try to reserve certain privileges for ourselves, so that we can sit up on high seats and wield fans with our names inscribed on them and get addressed with elegant and polite terms, but because I’m convinced that it was the Buddha’s intention that the full monastic ordination with the opportunities and responsibilities it offers are necessary for the true Dharma to survive in the world. And this means that, in each major Buddhist tradition, we will need more people of talent and dedication to come forth, take ordination, receive proper training, and then reach a point where they can give training to the next generation of monks and nuns. In this way, the Dharma will be able to reproduce itself from one generation to the next.

I just turned 50- a milestone year and time of transformation for me. Instead of having a birthday party, I created a birthing ceremony. Surrounded by dear friends, we ceremoniously interacted with elements of conditioning, transformation and emergence. Part of me has been trapped by my own discipline as I had become identified with and attached to the forms that were intended for liberation. Acknowledging the transformation that is taking place and returning to essential principles, I feel a joyous emergence.

I was in Michigan – a second home with many senior Dharma teachers, advisors and close friends that I cherish. Alongside having time for personal retreat another highlight was co-leading Touching the Earth retreat with my dear friend and colleague Aura Glaser. It was a joy to see how well our different teaching styles blended and see Aura emerging in her new platform that she founded: Inner Sky.

Now I am back in Colorado Springs. The snow is dusting the peaks. The buds have not yet appeared on the trees, but bulbs planted a year and half ago in front of the stupa are emerging for the first time. A solitary crocus blooms- a splash of yellow against the red earth and rocks. Mostly the days have been warm and the nights and early morning air is biting against the skin. The high altitude desert climate is easeful for my lungs, bones and joints. The aromas of pine and juniper are in the air. I intend to be here for a few years.  I feel like I have come home. Being able to unpack, knowing local neighbors, postman, animals and the rocks in the area; knowing where the bike paths go are orienting. All support the belly relaxing and deep breaths.

Shakti Vihara, the name of the hermitage where I am, means the dwelling of the divine feminine. The hermitage has changed significantly since I last lived here over a year ago. With sleeping lofts, an opened ceiling and completely new kitchen and bathroom it is more spacious. With larger windows – more light. The empty lots front and back are a refuge for herds of deer. Situated within walking distance of the Garden of the Gods and within view and under the energy of Pikes Peak – a sacred 14,000 foot high mountain – it is conducive for meditation, writing and sharing Dhamma- all things I do.

The mountain and these ancient rocks are aligned with another time frame and different cycles and imbue stillness that speaks to me against the noise and bustle of city life. They remind me that when I have attention suffused in my body I feel connected to the world and can rest attention in awareness that is all inclusive.

My joy in returning is accentuated by the challenge of what has preceded it. Picking up threads of the story – last October I was again exposed to mold. This triggered a cascade of health issues including sensitivities to chemicals, fragrances and fumes.  I was due to move into Shakti Vihara the end of December but couldn’t as the chemical loading was still too high from the renovations. Once again I was in the care of friends. Gratefully, there is a lot of kindness in this world and people were accommodating. From the number of places I have stayed, I have come to understand why so many people with chemical sensitivities are living in tents – chemically neutral housing is extremely rare. The longing for safe accommodation and a place to settle loomed large.

After a concerted team effort to get the place ready in December, there was another effort needed to move it towards chemical neutrality for my return in March. Ray Ferguson, the owner of the hermitage, the board members of Awakening Truth and the Against the Stream – Dharma Punx groups in Colorado Springs, Denver and local friends were the mainstays of this effort. Being imbued with so much care and community collaboration it is more love and light filled than ever. Tears were close to the surface the first days when I came home. It has felt like an epic journey to return.

Being situated near community committed to awakening, family, ancient rocks and sacred mountains helps me breathe in a way that that lets all the air out and the muscles in my back relax.  Here I unwind. My joy and gratitude run deep.

 

This journey towards health has given me an opportunity to learn new things about mind and body and my response mechanisms. To illustrate, I share one particular event.

 

To illustrate, I share one particular event.

One night I got into a bed with fresh sheets that had fabric softener in them. My body reacted very strongly.  When the body perceives something dangerous, the response is often to fight, get away or freeze. I froze. My reaction was disproportionate to the reality of the danger.  Noticing the initial somatic response I then checked discernment.  Oscillating attention from the sensations and breathing patterns accompanying the “freeze” into an open awareness that was aware of them, I talked myself into having more choices. I got up and took the sheets off the bed. The reactivity in my body was still very high and by holding sedating points on my arms and legs, I began to relax. But by morning I was still shaky. I coaxed myself gently onto my bike and rode away. Using my legs to escape the danger shifted the freeze into a flight response and was profoundly restorative; the fresh air medicinal. When the freeze response dissipated sufficiently, I opened my attention outward into a loving field of all pervasive awareness. This touched the remaining contraction in the body and moved past it allowing tension to further release. From there, tolerance to what was initially perceived as poisonous increased. I felt more peaceful and able to respond. Learning how to lean in to what is painful, stabilize attention in love and let go has been a theme that has been running through many aspects of my life.

Both my parents are in their 80’s and feeling the effects of age. Mom lives in California and Dad lives here in Colorado Springs with my brother David and his extended family. Dad has had many trips to hospital in the past weeks.  For now, Dad is comfortable. While many of his health conditions that took him into hospital are improving and his humor, determination to live strong and his intellect sharp, the trend is indicative of an increasing need for care. My brother is shouldering the majority of his care. I am glad that I can be here now so we can all share together and support each other in this unfolding. Yet as I see the difficult choices that our family faces,  I long for a Dhamma village where elders can live in community and be cared for as their needs increase and their independence wanes.

At my Bhikkhuni ordination, Mom was lovingly instructed from that time forward it was suitable for her to call me Venerable. When we got back to her apartment she had a long conversation with her dog, “What do you think Lacy about this Venerable?  Lacy, how do you like the Venerable? What do you think about calling her Venerable?” If you knew my mom; how vivacious, progressive and highly emotionally and socially intelligent she is, it would accentuate the humor of the moment. What it does reveal, however, is some of the territory we navigate in bringing this monastic form that came from a different time and culture into our modern world. This event with my mom happened a year and half ago and has given me pause for thought on many interactions that followed. I saw how I could use my robes and stature as a Bhikkhuni to separate myself from others in a way that didn’t serve a direct and heartfelt connection.  Born from the simple longing to find a form of address that is friendly, respectful and mutual, I have been referring to myself as Amma since one of its meanings is ‘dear one’.  If you feel at ease using it, good. If not call me what you are comfortable with. I feel your respect and caring conveyed energetically and in the tone of your voice- not in the labels and forms of address that you use.

News of Nun’s on the world stage: My preceptor, Ayya Tathaaloka ordained three Bhikkhunis in October at Spirit Rock, California and two Bhikkhunis March 1 at Dhammasara in Australia. What joy to be part of the Spirit Rock ordination welcoming Ayya Anandabodhi, Ayya Santacitta as well Ayya Medhanandi’s disciple Venerable Nimala into the Bhikkhuni Sangha! Having spent so many years together at Amaravati the web of our connections and history grows ever richer.  Ayya Santacitta received recognition in Thailand as an outstanding woman in Buddhism- wonderful! Anagarika[i] Aloka who I enjoyed sharing vassa[ii] with at Mahapajapati Monastery is now a Samaneri[iii]. As nuns find more foothold, the choices for women to practice open up and female teachers have more voice.

Now that I have settled in, I am set up to be more of support. I have a special shrine set up in direct view of the mountain – my favorite place to meditate in Shakti Vihara- as a way to focus blessings on anyone in need. Send names if you want your family or friends or certain global problems to be part of that.

Sunday Satsang- Dharma Conference calls have resumed. Anyone can join in- even those of you overseas to talk about practice, meditation and how you are using them in your life. All are welcome.

•  Conference Phone Number: USA (605) 477-2100 Access Code: 663167#
•  Every Sunday unless calendar states otherwise
• Time: California: 9 AM; Colorado: 10 AM;  East Coast: 12 noon; London: 4 PM; Delhi: 9:30 PM

The phone number and time zones and other teaching events will also be posted on the website.

Each of us is part of an unfolding journey both as an individual and within a web of connections. Every moment is an opportunity to bring the depth of what we know and love into this world through living with presence, care and integrity. Doing this we imbue the craziness of the world with peace. When I live this way, I feel content.

Amma Thanasanti

15 Columbia Road, Colorado Springs, CO 80904 / info@awakeningtruth.org / www.awakeningtruth.org

 

There are new systems in place if you want to support: sign up for the Lotsa Helping Hands website to offer meals and rides. If you are out of town contact Darcie, dmankell@hotmail.com, 719 439-4448. The dana list[iv] is updated regularly. You can also support by sharing with us how you are touched by what we are doing here. We all like to know.

 

Facebook forums are also a way to share information and discuss Dhamma: Awakening Truth (discussion group) Awakening Truth (New Facebook page updates from website) Amma Thanasanti (personal)

 

 

 

 

 

Letter from my preceptor Ayya Tathaaloka:

 

Warm greetings, dear friends, from the wild bush of Western Australia in the hot season,

It is very nice to be here woken by the soft thump of kangaroo paws passing,  warm breezes wafting over burnt red desert-like earth fragrant with eau de eucalyptus forest.  A new reliquary stupa rises atop ancient and majestic granite outcropping across the canyon from my kuti window, and another on the opposite side, crossing what will be the new Dhammasala – the heart of the monastery.  This is Dhammasara, our Australian sister monastery, in the legendary land of the ancient Buddha Kassapa, from way back when this continent had not yet broken off from Jambudvipa, now India.  It is a wonderful, comfortable place for meditation.

This coming week there are planned auspicious happenings here in addition to the auspiciousness that blesses the days full of sila, samadhi and panna, generosity and loving-kindness here.

We heard yesterday that the root sapling of the Anuradhapura Bodhi tree gifted to the Bhikkhuni Sangha at the end of this past year is now ready to be released from Australian quarantine, and may finally be able to arrive here at the monastery this Monday.  You can imagine the delight of the community here that it will now be able to pass immigration and arrive at its new home after so long waiting.

The day before yesterday we also had the chance to meet with Ajahn Brahm at Bodhinyana, the bhikkhus’ monastery out the other side of Perth.   He gave a lovely talk in dedication to Dhammadharini, our Aranya Bodhi Hermitage and our women’s monastic community.  He also gave his enthusiastic blessings to the proposed full ordination of samaneri sisters Nissara and Pasada who are here at Dhammasara with me now, and whom the monastic community here also so supports.

Samaneri Nissara is a Thai international, a writer and correspondent of several years who I gave samaneri ordination to in Thailand when I visited the Nirotharam bhikkhuni vipassana meditation center outside Chiang Mai two years ago.  She is a longterm student of Ajahn Brahm’s and has been training with bhikkhuni meditation master Ajahn Nanthayani at Nirotharam the past three years.  Samaneri Pasada has been a student of Bhante Sujato’s these past few years at Santi Forest Monastery here in Australia’s Southern Highlands.  She hopes to be able to come and spend this coming three-month Vassa-time Retreat here with us at Aranya Bodhi, so I hope you may all have a chance to meet her.

The ordination is not planned to be such a great and enormous event as the last ordination of venerables Ajahn Anandabodhi, Ajahn Santacitta and Nimmala at Spirit Rock, but rather much more small, quiet, and dare I say “normal”.  What I mean by normal is that it has been such a big deal to go ahead with women’s full ordination in the Theravada because it has been paused for so long.  But now that the path is becoming clear and well-trodden again there is not so much circumstantial need for such big road clearing equipage every time, albeit so beautiful and auspicious.  This is a great relief.  We can began to move towards just doing simply what is normal in Vinaya: ordaining women timely according to Vinaya with a local Bhikkhu and Bhikkhuni Sangha, quietly and peacefully.  Of course, time by time, according to human culture, embellishments may decorate the bare framework of the essentials, but that is just a happy option unique to the inspiration of each circumstance, no requirement.

This ordination will be the first to happen here at Dhammasara and the first to happen here with the participation of the local resident Bhikkhuni Sangha as essential part of the Ordaining Sangha.  This is a lovely part of the moving ahead of this monastery and of the women’s monastic community here, towards truly having their own self-training and self-ordaining domestic women’s monastic Sangha.  But not only is their monastic community developing, they are now moving actively towards developing for the lay community as well.  The building of a new larger capacity Dhamma/Dana-Sala complex is beginning to move forward now.  This will not only allow for more people to be able to come and listen to the Dhamma teachings and join in programs together, but also for lay friends to be able to come and stay on retreat for periods of time at the monastery.  The new complex will have not only have a spacious sala, parking lot and public toilet facilities beneath the two stupas, but is also planned to have six new accommodation “pods” for lay men and women retreatants built into it, a long-desired addition to the monastery.

So, all things being impermanent, all these things are dreams of the near future, taking form in the worlds of our consciousnesses now.  But in this moment, there is just the soft and dry afternoon breeze rustling through eucalyptus bows and a quiet and fresh peacefulness.  It is a blessing to be here.

I wish to share these peaceful blessings with you, that you too may be a part of them, hoping you too are well and happy.

With loving kindness,

Ayya Tathaaloka, in Dhamma

PS. If you’d like to know more about the Dhammasara Sala Project, please look for “Sala Appeal” on the Dhammasara www.dhammasara.or.au website.  Dhammasara is supported and is a part of the Buddhist Society of Western Australia (BSWA), which has also kindly shared in supporting us.  It is my hope that we may all support one another.

An Open Letter from Buddhist and Yoga Teachers and Leaders in Support of the Occupy Movement.

Reposted with permision from Ethan Nichtern.  http://occupysamsara.org/

 

As teachers and leaders of communities that promote the development of compassion and mindfulness, we are writing to express our solidarity with the Occupy movement now active in over 1,900 cities worldwide.

We are particularly inspired by the nonviolent tactics of this movement, its methods of self-governance, and its emergent communities founded in open communication (general assemblies, the human microphone, the inclusion of diverse voices, etc). These encampments are fertile ground for seeing our inherent wisdom and our capacity for awakening.

We encourage all teachers, leaders, sanghas and communities that pursue awakening to join with these inspiring activists, if they have not already done so, in working to end the extreme inequalities of wealth and power that cause so much suffering and devastation for human society and for the ecosystems of Earth.

This movement has given voice to a near-universal frustration with the economic and political disenfranchisement of so many. It offers a needed counterbalance to a system that saps the life energy of the overwhelming majority –– the so-called 99% – generating vast profits for a tiny handful, without maximizing the true potential for widespread wealth creation in our society. While our practice challenges us to cultivate compassion for 100% of human beings without villifying an “enemy,” our practice also calls on us to confront a system that causes such clear harm and imbalance.

We share in the thoughtful calls to address massive unemployment, climate change, the erosion of social safety nets, decaying infrastructures, social and education programs, and workers’ wages, rights, and benefits.Moreover, the current legal structure of large corporations compels individuals to act with shortsighted greed, acts for which they are not held personally accountable. If we aren’t encouraged to act with awareness of our connection to the seven billion humans who share our global community, the social fabric of our society is torn apart by legalized acts of selfishness and fear.

These acts are performed in human society, by nonhuman entities, oddly granted the legal and political status of people, which have no ability to adequately perceive or react to the negative repercussions of their choices. The whole planet pays the price.

Most importantly, we believe that individual awakening and collective transformation are inseparable. For members of spiritual communities, mindfulness of the situation before us demands that we engage fully in the culture and society we inhabit. We do not view our own path as merely an individualistic pursuit of sanity and health, and we believe it would be irresponsible of us to teach students of mind/body disciplines that they can develop their practice in isolation from the society in which they live. We are inspired by the creative and intellectual work of the Occupy movement as an essential voice in facilitating a more compassionate and ecologically grounded basis for practice.

The Occupy movement has re-ignited our belief that it’s truly possible to build a culture of non-harm, honesty and respect for all creatures. We recognize our human failings and know that we’ll fail ten thousand times in our efforts to awaken. We now vow to bring our practices and methods of teaching more into alignment with our deepest values.

The structural greed, anger and delusion that characterize our current system are incompatible with our obligations to future generations and our most cherished values of interdependence, creativity, and compassion.  We call on teachers and practitioners from all traditions of mind/body awakening to join in actively transforming these structures.

Signed,

Ethan Nichtern, Shastri, New York

Shôken Michael Stone, Toronto

September 2 is the anniversary of being a nun for 20 years. I take this time to pay homage to some of the extraordinary women who have directly and indirectly guided me to the path where I am now.  I write as a prelude to International Bhikkhuni Day on Sept 17.

My first memory thinking about the way important women influenced my life was when I was about 10 and we were driving to Sea World in Long Beach California. My stepmother, Barbara, asked me and my brother to think of 3 men and 3 women that we would have wanted to meet or be like. The women that I thought of were Anne Frank, Helen Keller and Mother Theresa. Barbara was not impressed. She was hoping I would come up with people who were more glamorous or sexy and asked me if I could think of any like that. When I couldn’t she eventually asked me why I these women came to mind and I remember saying something like,  “Anne never lost faith in peoples goodness, Helen never lost courage, and Mother Theresa never lost capacity in seeing beauty and divinity in others.”

I was shocked at first by how silent she was after I spoke. Then I realized I am not someone who is into glamor and movie stars. Barbara helped me see that I respond to a different drummer and what I thought and believed was very different from what the people around me valued. In this way she inadvertently taught me a great deal.

As a teenager, I discovered Peace Pilgrim from hearing about her after she had died. In her late 50’s she set out with her only possessions the clothes on her back and a few stamps and comb in her pocket. She set out to walk for peace, determined to eat only when food was offered and sleep only when shelter was provided. She lived her life like this until she died in her 70’s. Her willingness to be on the road, live on the faith, have very few needs and speak her truth touched me deeply. Living in the way that she did she continues to live on in my heart and serve as a constant inspiration of faith and the positive possibility in homelessness.

Having lived at Amaravati and Chithurst Buddhist monasteries for 20 years I met many extraordinary women. It would be a very long list for me to recount everyone.  I would want to share what I learned from each of the sisters that I have lived with. I would want you to know her unique ways, gifts, and the way she influenced me. I would want to tell you about the committed lay practioners I have been in close association with. I would love to convey the depth of community feeling that can occur and the ways of knowing each other living in the way that we did- how you often had to shield your thoughts so that sisters didn’t know what you were thinking- how small acts of kindness happened as a matter of routine, the magic of birthday trays- treasures appearing from nothing- and to be able to give some texture to the depth of friendships and the challenges that we navigated.  I would want to share all this but it would be a whole book.

Most of the sisters I lived with over the years, the Anagarikas and the Siladharas have left the robes. It was the power of their presence, insight, compassion, intuition and ability to play when it was needed or listen if that was needed that created the fabric of our connection. What I appreciated the most was the sisters ability to have deep insight and stay in empathetic resonance with each other not splitting apart the transcendent from the imminent.  Eventually, I was able to rest into the fabric of our connectedness as a source of strength. Being around others who shared a similar aspiration meant it wasn’t just their actions that inspired me, but the overall sense of purpose in living the life that influenced me as well. What they gave me and still give me as sisters or post monastics now continues to nourish, inspire and sustain me.

But of all the extraordinary women in my direct spiritual life, Dipa Ma was the personification of one who had accomplished what I aspire to. I had heard about her when I was attending a class taught by Jack Engler on religion at UC Santa Cruz. Jack told us her life story, described her attainments both in concentration and insight as well as some of the psychic powers that she had mastered. He told stories of how she could retrace past lives, would playfully appear through walls or be in two places at once, accelerated time, or how she could manifest things.  I remember being in the lecture hall at UCSC, leaning back in the cool seats listening as if I were on fire. I was compelled with interest and my attention was rapt. I was determined to meet her one day.

Eight years later in 1987, I was able to fulfill my dream.  I went on a pilgrimage to India got to Calcutta and made my way to the Mahabodhi Society. I walked into the main hall. Directly in front of me was a woman whose back was to me. Her physical stature was tiny, but her presence was so powerful and tangible I was physically taken aback. I asked “Who is that?” Well of course- Dipa Ma.

I stayed at the Mahabodhi Society with a few friends that I met on retreat. Together, we would walk across town to her humble apartment she shared with her daughter Dipa and her grandson, Rishi. We spent the balmy Calcutta evening meditating with her and asking questions about practice. I felt that even if my life had ended right there, having met Dipa Ma and felt the power of her presence, it would have been enough.

Occasionally we joined their family gatherings. One of the Barua clan had become financially successful and had a big celebration to bless his new house. The stereo was loud and people gathered and talking excitedly. The atmosphere was buzzing. Dipa Ma walked in front of me calmly through the bustle of all the people heading straight for the Buddha and bowed. For Dipa Ma, life’s sole purpose was awakening. Her actions reflected her priorities. Her unwavering focus helped me refocus mine.

Being with Dipa Ma was like being in a vast endless ocean of Love. I felt that she saw me deeply, clearly and accurately but no matter what she saw, I felt her acceptance and love. This was most tangible for me when she blessed us when we left her apartment. She would hug us then hold our heads between her two tiny and very loving hands while blowing over our heads as she chanted. I felt as if I were standing under a waterfall with a cascade of love pouring over and through me touching every part of my body heart and mind. From knowing Dipa Ma, I knew what unconditioned love was.

Dipa Ma was born in an East Bengal village in 1911 as Nani Bala Barua. As was customary for that time and culture, she was betrothed at 12 years of age went to live with her husband Ranjani Ranjan Barua and her in laws. He left for Burma for work as an engineer one week after their marriage when she joined him two years later.

Dipa Ma’s mother and sister had prepared her for the domestic duties of being a wife. But no one said anything to her about sex. When her husband told her she recoiled in shock and felt terribly ashamed. For one solid year she lived in fear and wouldn’t go anywhere near him. Ranjani was unfailing kind and waited. Eventually they fell deeply in love and later she would describe him as her first teacher. But after many years of marriage no children were conceived. For many people not being able to have children is a loss. But in India it is something akin to a family catastrophe. Her in-laws found another woman for Ranjani to marry which he refused.

Eventually a child was conceived, borne. Tragically, shortly after birth, this little baby girl died. The grief from the loss deeply affected Dipa Ma and soon after she developed heart disease. Then a healthy girl was born who was called Dipa, meaning “light” thus Dipa Ma means “Dipa’s mother” or the “mother of light”.  Another child was conceived; the all important son was born. Very soon after he was born, he also died plunging Dipa Ma’s into inconsolable grief. Her husband was very attentive but the strain of looking after Dipa Ma, little Dipa and working full time was a lot. Completely unexpectedly, he too suddenly died.  So in a period of 10 years Dipa Ma lost her husband, her health and two children. Both of her parents were dead, India was far away and she was left raising her 7 year old daughter alone.

All she wanted was to meditate. Finally she did get to a meditation center but she didn’t stay long; a dog clamped its teeth into her leg and she had to leave to get medical treatment. But at home, she continued with her meditation. A few years later, she again found her way to a meditation center. After just six days she experienced the first level of enlightenment. Many of her family and friends noticed that Dipa Ma who had been so sick, depressed and dependent had transformed. Suddenly many of her health issues had resolved and she was radiant, clear, peaceful, and independent. Eventually she was known as one who had uprooted all traces of ill will and desire. Students from all over started coming to learn from her.

Once Anagarika Munindra, her teacher, was talking to a group of meditation students while it seemed that Dipa Ma was asleep in the back.  One of the students asked why only men were allowed to become Buddha’s. Dipa Ma sat bolt upright and with a very clear and utterly confident voice said, “I can do anything a man can”. It was so out of the blue and so true, that everyone laughed.

When I remember that Dipa Ma said that “Daughters of the Buddha are fearless,” I soften around my resistance to fear when I tremble with what is arising.

When I heard Dipa Ma had said that mindfulness and love were the same, something deep in my belly relaxed as if holding these two as separate had created a tension that no longer needed to be there.

Shortly after that trip to Asia I went to Amaravati in 1989 to become an Anagarika. Once I heard that Dipa Ma had died I wanted to plant a tree in her memory. We planted an oak tree in the ‘Buddha Grove’ for her.  I put Dipa Ma’s photo in the tree, chant and walk around it. As the tree began to grow I noticed that it had a very loving energy.

I left Amaravati and when I returned years later, I couldn’t remember exactly which was Dipa Ma’s tree. Many  trees had been planted and they all had grown 15-25 feet during the time that I was away. At each of the trees I thought it could be I pressed my back into the trunk.  At one tree I felt my back relax as if touching something soft and comforting and felt like I was standing in a waterfall of love. I knew I was at Dipa Ma’s tree.

Until Amy Schmidts [1]books were published only a handful of people knew about Dipa Ma and my connection with her. Until recently, the tree was not marked. So when one friend described “the mother tree” at Amaravati, my attention piqued.  I asked more details about where it was. Sure enough, it was the same tree. Without any other context, my friend Kathy had found it by its loving energy and had her own name for it.

When I reflect on extraordinary women in my life, I have to include my mother. Anyone who knows her would know why. Her vitality, courage and willingness to fight for what she thinks is right has been a profound example and teaching in my life. But her love of life, her insistence on the importance of playing  and her willingness to see everything as a adventure has given me resource and frame of reference that I don’t know where I would be without. It has been a complicated relationship because of the path I have chosen. When I first told her I intended to ordain, it plummeted her into inconsolable grief- gone were the grandchildren and extended family she so deeply longed for from me, gone were dinners together, gone were holidays together or being together in simple ways that mothers and daughters can share. But she has been unfailing supportive throughout all these years. With her unfailing love, and her commitment to do her own work at coming to terms with her own grief- she had to adjust her perspective to meet my lifestyle- her support has guided me.

Let me share some stories:

In the mid 90’s Mom came and picked me up at the Land of the Medicine Buddha in the hills outside of Santa Cruz. She took a road which was dangerously narrow and steep. Because she hadn’t seen me in 2 years she was excited. Being excited, she wasn’t paying that close attention to the driving and drove off the side of the road.  The cutaway hillside was extremely steep. The right side of the car sunk into the soft earth. From the angle we were at, I was sure we were going to roll down the hillside and crash into the buildings just below. But we didn’t roll. To my utter amazement we just stopped. Eventually we got out of the car and called for help. The one tow truck had to call for another as it took two trucks to pull the car out. The tow-truck driver said that he had never seen a car at that kind of angle not roll.

After the ordeal, Mom wanted some dinner. With charm and positivity, characteristic of Santa Cruz, the waiter at the restaurant said something like, “Are you having a great day?” Mom’s response was, “Yes, it was quite an adventure.” I was amazed. We had come dangerously close to rolling which could have been fatal. And even in a situation like this, she saw it as an adventure.

A story that I love happened when were camping at MacKerricher State Park in Mendocino 3 years ago. The fields were full of flowers.  While walking back from the ocean I was looking directly at her face as we were talking. All of a sudden she disappeared. I was startled for a moment as I didn’t understand what had happened until I looked down and saw her on the ground.  She saw a flower and threw herself on the ground with enthusiastic abandon, clutching her little magnifying glass, exclaiming, “Isn’t it cute?” I laughed. No ordinary mom this one! (Mom is 81 this year and she still loves camping. This July we camped at the same campground.)

This year marks the 20th anniversary of my ‘going forth’ as a nun. As I take this opportunity to pay homage, I see that the blessings from the extraordinary women of my life have given me an invaluable resource. Dipa Ma, more than anyone else, showed me the power of unconditional Love – giving me a direct transmission on what is left when everything else falls away- showing the mind in its natural state. Thank you Dipa Ma.