The True Master

At last, we reach the final chapter of the Dhammapada. I have mixed emotions about this experience. Some of the stuff was good, some of it not so good. Overall, it was helpful to me to spend time contemplating each chapter. It was also a good structure for me to use as my morning calisthenics for writing, before turning to my larger writing projects. I hope at least one chapter resonated with you.

Like any good book, fiction or non-fiction, I have trouble reading the last chapter. There are books on my shelves (truthfully, they are in boxes in a storage unit), which have sat for years waiting for me to read the last few pages. Today is no different. I am tempted to leave any elocution on The True Master for some other day. However, I said I would do all 26 chapters and I don’t like to go back on my word – even if it’s only a promise to myself. So what should I say about The True Master.

Instead of taking a single quote from this chapter, I thought it would be interesting to take all the statements in the chapter with the word “is” and put them together. This is what it looks like:

“The man who is awake shines in the radiance of the spirit.”

“A master is never proud.”

“He is not afraid.”

“He is infinitely free.”

“He is never angry.”

“He is determined.”

“He is free.”

“He is serene.”

“He is calm.”

“He is pure and free.”

“ […] he is one.”

“Free” seems to be a recurring theme. We all want to be free. We want to live in the kingdom of heaven. Even the atheist who believes that after life, there is only decomposition, wants to be free. Freedom is beyond God. Freedom is beyond any one particular belief or sect. Freedom is something that is real and eternal and pure bliss. I don’t know a soul who does not want to be free.

Perhaps this rather unorthodox rehashing of the Dhammapada will help drive me towards freedom. Perhaps there was a sentence or phrase I wrote that will stick with you for a while and help you on your path. It’s hard to say what effect this will have on anyone, but I hope somehow it serves a purpose.

The Seeker

“There are five at the door
To turn away, and five more
And there are five to welcome in.

And when five have been left
Stranded on the shore,
The seeker is called oghatinnoti —
‘He who has crossed over.’”
- Dhammapada

Yesterday, I talked about numbers and their simultaneously important and irrelevant nature in the context of scriptures. In that post, I said, ‘It doesn’t matter how many of anything.’. Once again, here is proof that the more I learn, the less I know; the more I speak, the more often I am wrong. When I turned to the next chapter titled The Seeker, I came across the above quote. Thankfully, Thomas Byrom provided a footnote and itemized the fives.

“The first five are selfishness, doubt, false spirituality, passion, hatred. The second five are longing for birth both with a body, and without one, vanity, mental restlessness, ignorance. The third five are faith, vigilance, energy, meditation, wisdom. The five left behind are greed, hatred, delusion, pride, false teaching.”

I should talk more about these, but first, let’s finish today’s story.

As I settle in to the routine of domestic life in Vientiane, many challenges come my way. First, my vocabulary is incredibly limited and my pronunciation is abysmal – not many people can understand me, even if I speak “perfect” Lao. If not for a few friends and a general idea of where things might be, I would surely starve naked with a flat tire.

Yesterday, I told my friend I needed a frying pan. She agreed to take me shopping for one. I showed her my shopping list written in both English and Laos and sometimes illustrated. The list included things beyond the frying pan, such as candles (tian), insecticide (yaa kaa meeng mai), spatula (iek bpaak been), can opener (neow khai bia), WD-40 or some other lubricant (nam law luun – yeah, that one caused a ruckus at the market), and so on. I was glad my friend was going to help me find these things, after all, she’s a local and knows where to find the best deals – or so I would think.

To find a frying pan, she took me to a clothing store. I joked about using a pair of shoes to cook eggs. We did had fun in the clothing store, laughing at the bad styles and pointing out which ones where pleasing. I gave up the frying pan search, walked around the stores and then took her to work. After dropping her off, I raced to the market, through the thick monsoon rain hopeful I might still be able to acquire the elusive frying pan of Laos.

Here in Laos, I am a child. I am a neophyte monk who can only sit mute in the temple. I am an infant who barely understands the words gaa-gaa-goo-goo. I am the first time buyer paying higher than sticker price on a brand new automobile. However, today, I am proud to say that I am – if nothing else – a man with a frying pan.

I found my frying pan in the good market – the one I like behind Talat Sao (the Morning Market in Vientiane). Last night, I made a mushroom basil tomato sauce with rotini for dinner. It was possibly the worst sauce I’ve ever made. I relished every single bite of my first home cooked meal in nearly 3 months.

The frying pan, the supermarket, having some food to cook and eat, these are the basics. They are the daily practice. They are the diligence. They are faith that goodness will surround those who practice goodness. I don’t need to be able to say non-stick, microwavable, non-aluminum or durable. Nor I do not need to list the names of the five Buddhas. It would be nice if I could, I suppose, but my personal opinion is that I should focus first on the basics.

Despite years of training and reading and practice, I am still sorting out the details. It as if I am in a foreign country some times and I am reduced to charades in the market (you should see my impersonation of a can of insecticide!). I am learning. I am learning to see the bigger picture even though I can not name the five at the door. In time, maybe I will be able to name them or at least be able to tell you there are five and not four. Or maybe someday, I will be able to recite all paramis or tell you the characters of the Bhagavad-Gita in order of appearance. Yet for now, I will have to be content with daily meditation, a steadily improving mind, and a pleasant, patient attitude towards myself and others… at the supermarket... where they sell frying pans.

Desire

Didn’t I already talk about desire? Maybe I just thought about it! Well, I don’t feel like talking much about desire today, so I’ll focus on something else. If you really want to think about desire, the quote alone should be sufficient.

“Thirty-six streams are rushing toward you!
Desire and pleasure and lust…
Play in your imagination with them
And they will sweep you away.

Powerful streams!
They flow everywhere.”
- Dhammapada

As a professional in the computer science field, numbers are important to me. The specificity which numbers provide are tremendous. One misplaced zero can have a tremendous impact on meaning. I remember studying binary code back in my mainframe days and truly loving being able to sift through the sequence of zeros and ones to assemble what they represent. Later on, I maintained a healthy adoration for hex code – #FF0000 and #0000FF sound so much more elegant than plain old red and blue.

Given my appreciation for numbers, I have always struggled with the often very specific numbers cited in Buddhism. Why thirty-six streams? Why a thousand petals on the lotus? Why twenty layers? Why fifty petals per layer? Why thirty paramis… or is it ten (still working on that one!)?

Given my “free-spirit” nature, however, I don’t really care that much. Yes, I am inquisitive, but I often just translate numbers to one of the following: “a couple”, “some”, or “lots”. Sometimes I feel that delving too deeply into numbers like this is a blend of over-zealous dogma and missing the forest for the trees. Do you care, at this point, if the Sahasrara Chakra has one thousand or one thousand and one petals? If I could give you the choice of either lighting up the crown chakra or counting the petals, which would you choose? Hint: the petals of the lotus eventually fall off, the jewel in the lotus is eternal.

At this point, you may be wondering ‘what are you talking about?’ The pontification of numbers and their meaning seems to have nothing to do with desire (in numerology I think it’s 11), and this is exactly my point. Read today’s quote from the Dhammapada and notice the first word is a number. Too often, we will get caught up in this number and spend our time contemplating and arguing ‘thirty-six’ and never get to the real issue at hand: Powerful streams! They flow everywhere.

It doesn’t matter, really, how many streams. It doesn’t matter how many disciples. It doesn’t matter how many of anything. What does matter, is that we concentrate on getting ourselves down the road.

Think of it this way: Enlightenment is a big supermarket near your house. On a typical day, you can pull out of your driveway, head south on the main road and in 5 minutes, you have arrived at the supermarket. But on a non-typical day, there may be a traffic jam, or some construction blocking you easy path to shopping. This doesn’t mean that you can not go to the supermarket. It simply means you might have to take more than one road. You may have to drive 10 miles instead of six. You may have to put an extra litre of fuel in your tank. Consider which is more important, how many roads, miles, litres or arriving at the supermarket? In aisle 6, they are having a two-for-one special on spiritual achievement… or was it aisle 16?

The Elephant

The title of today’s chapter from the Dhammapada is “The Elephant”. I would be remiss to skim over the connection between elephants and Laos. The kingdom of Laos used to be called Lan Xang, which translates to ‘The land of one million elephants and a white parasol’. It’s a fierce image of power in nobility, wealth and military might. I think today’s equivalent to a million elephants would be one hundred thousand battleships. (By the way, Lan means one million, Xang must be a very rich word).

It many texts such as Bhagavadgita, Ramayana, the Dhammapada, various Jatakas, there are references to elephants. When I first started studying, I only partially understood the importance of the elephant in these ancient cultures. It was not until I started seeing elephants on a more regular basis that I fully comprehended what a magnificent animal this is. Beyond the imposing size of this beast, there is a look in their eyes of supreme intelligence. However, not all is well in the elephant kingdom.

In the northeast provinces of Thailand last year, I saw many elephants, but one elephant in particular disturbed me. The elephant was “working” for/with two guys – one riding, the other selling bananas to the tourists to give to the elephant. On the tail of the elephant were tied CD’s to serve as reflectors. I remember clearly the look in this elephant’s eyes – I don’t think I will ever forget that look. It was a look of humility, indignity, and a threat of one day reaching a saturation point and exploding. I looked away, partly to not instigate anything, but mostly to turn away from a scene of utter humiliation – the noblest of all creatures, selling bananas.

“Awake.
Be the witness of your thoughts.
The elephant hauls himself from the mud.
In the same way drag yourself out of your sloth.”
- Dhammapada

Sadly, many elephants today are not free to pull themselves from the mud. They are trapped and imprisoned to do parlour tricks, or they are killed and mutilated for their tusks. However, in their captivity or in their perverted ‘natural’ environment, they manage to maintain some of their inherent dignity. To personify the elephant’s plight, I think it must be a quiet form of meditation for the modern day elephant to live such lives – quietly persistent at maintaining the nobility of their nature despite their conditions.

Many of us – people, that is – may feel that our lives are not much different than a banana-selling elephant. We know that inside us is goodness and truth, but our circumstances seem to be obstacles to fully realizing our blessedness. We have reflectors tied to our tails so a vehicle one third our size does not ram into us. We are constantly under the threat of a smack with a bamboo switch to turn this way or that. We are ridden and told where to go and wait for others to tell us when to eat. We are up to our loins in mud.

Just like the elephant, we are deep in the mud, but just like the elephant, we have the potential to haul ourselves out. It is not enough to merely acknowledge our own beautiful greatness, we must do. As Eleanore Roosevelt said, ‘You must do the thing which you think you can not do.’ We must do this, lest, like the elephant, we may one day lash out against our captors and our humiliation or perish without ever realizing our true nature.

A note about elephants: In the New York Times Sunday Magazine, Oct-20-2006, there was an excellent article titled An Elephant Crackup?. The article speaks of the trauma caused by modern-day activities on elephants and their environment. It is a very informative article and well worth reading.

The Dark

To some degree, everyone is afraid of the dark. Sometimes, it’s not a very strong feeling. Sometimes, it’s just a gnawing thought in the back of our minds that maybe we don’t know everything that’s going on around us. When we do not have all the facts, we can feel unsure of ourselves. That’s why people are afraid of the dark.

“One man denies truth,
Another denies his own actions.
Both go into the dark
And in the next world suffer
For they offend truth.”
Dhammapada

The dark, which we fear, is not only a matter of not being able to see. There is also a mental darkness; a state of not knowing, or understanding. The void in our understanding is not always because the facts are not available. At times, we overlook the facts or conceal them and create our own darkness. For so many reasons people do this, but I think mostly it is out of laziness.

It takes work to shine a light on ourselves, on our thoughts, our actions. Not only does it take effort to shine the light, but once we can see what is around us or who we are, we now have to reckon with that reality. One would think it would be easier, just to keep everything in the dark. Such is not the case.

When we hide in ignorance of what we think and say and do, we create a lot of work for ourselves. Many people know this about lying; once you lie, you have to keep track of that lie and make sure you don’t contradict it. Usually, lies end up being exposed because sooner or later, the liar becomes even lazier and forgets to maintain the fallacy. Darkness gets a little darker and the liar stubs his toe on the bedpost. Ouch. Suffering.

Inside our mind, we can hide our thoughts fairly easily. Outside our mind, in our actions, it is much more difficult to hide. But we try anyway. I’ve met people who completely deny their actions. They act in one way towards a person, but then are surprised when that person responds in an appropriate manner. The dis-illumination of ones own actions in their own head, is a rewriting of history to a version which is not truthful. It’s a difficult thing when someone denies their own actions. It’s frightening. The Dark.

A Little Diversion

I forgot my copy of the Dhammapada at home today, so I don’t know what the next chapter says. I know the title is “The Dark”, but that is all. Instead of making something up or talking about why we are afraid of the dark or some other eccentric twist of words, I’m going write about something a friend asked me about in an email.

His question has to do with judgment – we make judgments all the time, sometimes we are not aware that this may cause some suffering in ourselves and others. My friend asked, Is it possible, in theory, to live without making judgment and only practice discernment and staying present? He went on to say that through practicing Tai Chi, he is finding a stronger sense of inner peace.

Not only is it possible in theory, it is possible in practice, to live without making judgment. This is called enlightenment. It also goes by the name Samadhi, with different flavours such as Laja Samadhi, Savikalpa Samadhi, and Nirvilkalpa Samadhi. Enlightenment is very far away and very close to all of us. For most cases, it is best to accept that we are not enlightened. However, just because we do not live in a perpetual state of perfect awareness – Nirvilkalpa Samadhi, this does not mean that the principles are any less valuable.

In Arizona, there is something called desert dust. It’s a very fine sand dust and collects everywhere and, when swept away, returns very quickly. I have a friend who does not see any reason to sweep the desert dust from his porch “because it will just come back five minutes later”. I think this is the same mentality of someone who does not harness their thoughts – their judgments – because they know their mind will wander. Of course! The desert dust, the thoughts and judgments and desires of our minds, will certainly come back five minutes later. But doesn’t it feel good to have a clean porch, even if it is only for a little while?

Part of the purpose of meditation is to train the mind. Without training, the mind will wander endlessly and cause us much confusion and pain. In meditation – sitting meditation, yoga, prayer, whatever method we use – we are teaching our mind to experience joy, well being and peace. When I first started serious practices in meditation, I felt there was separateness between the times I would sit in mediation and the rest of my day. However, I quickly realized that the more diligent I was in my meditation, the more likely I would experience some similar shade of bliss in my daily activities.

I trained my mind so the desert dust would not come back so quickly. There are days when I step out onto the porch and there is a thick layer of the stuff. Some days, I just want to walk past and not acknowledge it’s there. When I deny the fact that my mind needs a good sweeping, I feel lousy. Things bother me. I feel irritable and out of control. On the days that I pick up the broom and at least try to sweep some of the stuff away, I feel better. When I am in a routine and I keep my porch clean, I feel in control and happier.

So, it’s not so much a matter of never making judgment, it’s more a matter of how clean is your porch.

Out Of The Forest

“If he is a good man,
A man of faith, honored and prosperous,
Wherever he goes he is welcome.

Like the Himalayas
Good men shine from afar.

But bad men move unseen
Like arrows in the night.”
- Dhammapada

A judgment was made about me the other day. It was determined I was not a good person. Needless to say, my first reaction was to feel insulted. The news came as a slap in the face. I consider myself a good person. I conduct myself with decency, fairness and generosity. I make a point of accepting the good in others and offering them a wide berth to refine themselves. Hearing this judgment the other day, shook my foundation.

How could it be that someone would think I was a bad person? Most people I know, and people I meet, go out of their way to tell me that I am very nice. I was once told someone me as ‘the nicest person you will ever meet’ – I think that might be a little overboard, but all in all I am a decent person. So I wondered, how could this judgment be made and on what grounds?

I discussed this with a journalist friend of mine from Turkey. She suggested that the person judging me was not at all responding to me, but instead, they were thinking only of themselves – I pose a threat to their control of an existing situation. I think my friend’s assessment is the only reasonable explanation.

In the book, The Four Agreements, one of the agreements is “Don’t take anything personally”. What people say about others has mostly to do with their own thoughts – their own perception of their reality – and very little to do with the person on the receiving end. If I apply what Don Miguel Ruiz wrote and include my Turkish friend’s assessment, I can come to terms with this unfounded judgment.

The terms are much easier to deal with. Basically, I silently discredit all this person said. They are wrapped up in their own personal greed and manipulation. However skewed, unfair or inaccurate that person’s opinion, it means nothing to me other than I must be extra diligent in my assertion of being a good person. It’s been a while since I’ve had any pudding, but I know, the proof is in there somewhere.

A note about the book, The Four Agreements: When I read this book in the summer of 2001, I almost stopped reading it. I found the first 30 or 40 pages to be almost patronizing. Someone sitting near me heard me scoff and told me to finish the book. She had already read it and told me that she and others have also had the same reaction. However, once you get through the first section, the book is an excellent primer. So basic yet potentially life changing, I highly recommend this reading. In fact, I always keep a few extra copies on hand to give out to people when they need a little mantra to get them through a tough patch – How’s that for being a bad person!

The Way

“It is you who must make the effort.
The masters only show you the way.”
                                     - Dhammapada

 

Buddhism, Christianity, Islam, Judaism, all the religions, philosophies and metaphysic equations are simply that; equations.  One can find endless suggestions and directives towards a better life, towards enlightenment.  The suggestions are good starting points, but by themselves they are useless.

There is a saying in aviation, “’Useless’ is the runway behind you, the airspace above you and fuel on the ground.”  Spiritual texts, self-help books, the counsel of a priest, whatever you look to for guidance is of no value unless you act on it.  Once a person has read and understood a text, it turns from potential energy to simply the runway behind you.  How we use knowledge, how we choose to live, think, speak, work goes back to one of the Paramis: Viriya Paramis, in English, Effort, Energy & Diligence.

As a teacher, I have often struggled with the expectation of students.  Many times, I have stood before a classroom and felt an undeniable expectation that I was somehow going to learn for them.  As the instructor, I was already the expert.  As an expert, I can only relay what I know.  The responsibility rests on the students’ shoulders to assimilate the teaching and act on it.  I can talk endlessly about fourth normal form and referential integrity and all sorts of other subjects that make eyes glaze over. However, I can not make a person learn. 

Whatever it is that you pursue, whatever it is that you are hoping to achieve, set your mind to it, and act.  Put on your shoes, open the door, and step into the big beautiful world.  Don’t wait for the doorman, the porter or the guide.  Don’t look for someone else to validate you.  Don’t expect your professor to write your exam, or expect the police officer to bring you to a full stop at a stop sign.  Don’t expect Buddha to achieve enlightenment for you.  Don’t expect Christ to stop you from sinning.  You can look to all the examples that are available, but in the end, these are only masters showing you the way.

 

 

The Just

“The true seeker
subdues all waywardness.
He has submitted his nature to quietness.

He is the true seeker
Not because he begs
But because he follows the lawful way,
Holding back nothing, holding to nothing,
Beyond good and beyond evil,
Beyond the body and beyond the mind.

Silence cannot make a master out of a fool.”
                                    - Dhammapada

Today, I'm tired, so very tired.  All these words keep jumbling around in my head, my mouth, my fingers... maybe I'm getting mixed up, maybe I'm getting mixed messages, maybe I'm getting a mixed drink.  Maybe it's the silent treatment.

One of my least favourite tactics is the “silent treatment”.  When we are four our five, we use the silent treatment a lot.  By the time we reach our sixth birthday, we should abandon this method and look for more productive means of communication.  However, I know plenty of people who still use the silent treatment long past the age of five.

Beyond immaturity, the silent treatment has some other unjust qualities.  One definition of the word “just”: free from favoritism or self-interest or bias or deception, aligns well with today’s quote and the subject of the silent treatment.  When a person cuts off communication, they are in effect, lying by omission.  If it is because they truly have nothing to say, that’s one thing, but I can’t think of a single time when the silent treatment was invoked because a person had nothing to say.  On the contrary, it is usually when a person has the most to say that they enact this childish stunt.

People use the silent treatment to leverage power.  If they do not communicate, they feel they have they have gained the upper hand.  However, there is no upper hand.  There is an attachment to manipulation and deceit.  There is an attachment to the noise and frustration of when things which do not work out.  There is a disturbance caused by silence.

When discontentment arises, it is best to voice concerns.  Once an issue has been discussed, than a solution can be worked out.  Sometimes, the solution is a compromise.  Sometimes, the solution is an agreement to disagree.  No matter what, voicing ones thoughts is how we evolve.  Squelching ourselves only makes us fools.

Anger

One of my favorite quotes of the Dhammapada, speaks about a subject which I have struggled with for many years: anger.

“Anger is like a chariot careering wildly.
He who curbs his anger is the true charioteer.
Others merely hold the reins.”
- Dhammapada

It’s not surprising to me that one of my favorite quotes has me so very stumped on how to address this subject. I considered dozens of different choices for discussing anger. I thought about myself and my personal history. I considered teenage angst, urban angst, swarming, Columbine, Thomas Aquinas, – all the typical stuff. I considered an episode of the Simpsons and some thoughts from the movie Awakenings. I considered the deep seated anger of the Hmong and how it escalated to sheer idiocy in Los Angeles. I considered metaphors of unresponsive steering wheels and the purpose of an emergency brake. I considered a number of approaches to talk about anger; possibly because there are so many available examples.

In lieu of deliberating indefinitely, I’ve decided to talk about a refining moment in my own evolution of anger management. It was something that happened about a year ago in Laos. In Asia, showing anger, yelling, stomping, waving arms are all seen as a sign of loosing control. It is looked down upon and I advise anyone who comes here to keep their anger in check. Not only does it make for an all around dismal feeling, it also is the beginning of a whole lot of effort to either make amends or sustain the anger.

The first time I lost composure in Laos was about a year ago. I was taken by surprise at an awkward time on a matter relating to money – specifically, money I owed. I didn’t entirely loose my cool. However, I did cross a line in personal relations, a thinner line in the east than the west. In the end, someone was singled out for upsetting me. I don’t think that person ever fully trusted me again.

What angered me was the surprise and the untimely information of a debt to be paid. Instead of pausing for a moment and suggesting an alternative solution, I became defensive and visually upset. Oh, let’s stop gussying up the words – I was pissed-off and I made a scene. I was completely out of sync with the local decorum.

After I was finished with my tantrum, it was explained to me that due to the time (Sunday night, 10pm) and the circumstances (I was staying at an isolated guest house on the edge of town), my debt could be paid in the morning when the banks open. Very simple.

Reading the quote about the chariot, I think not only of how I careered wildly, but also, how I embarrassed myself. Embarrassed because the stands were full when I made the exact wrong decision. Everyone knew it but me, I had let loose my grip on the reins.