We are happy to publish a guest post from Cosimo author and Buddhist Paul Breiter, entitled "Imitating and Pretending - Thoughts from Retreat." Enjoy!
All past masters have followed the path of sublime beings before them. We say in Tibetan, “In life, we imitate others; whoever is the best imitator succeeds.” Similarly, because all Buddhists imitate the Buddha, whoever imitates him best will become a Buddha.
--Lama Tharchin Rinpoche
While doing meditation retreats, I often ask myself, “Where did I go wrong?” The answer that comes is “Everywhere.” But over the years I’ve learned to recognize the patterns of drama that take place in quiet solitude. Disengaged from accustomed busyness and distraction, there is naturally a lot of ferment. During one retreat several years ago, in the first week I saw that I was responsible for the war on Iraq. In the second week I was causing spiritual masters to pass away. In the third week I felt I’d become some kind of non-human life form and worried that the person who brought my groceries would probably drop the bags and run away screaming if she caught sight of me.
And all of that passed, like everything does, and in following years it took less and less time for the dramas to play themselves out. A professional football team once had the motto, “Talk is cheap. Play the game.” I started to think, “Drama is cheap. Do the practice.” (That team went on to win a Super Bowl after printing t-shirts with those words.)
In certain quarters there is talk of the “resultant path” as opposed to a causal path, or “taking the result as the path.” As with many other Buddhist concepts, it can be seen in very practical terms. Trungpa Rinpoche said that all he could do was provide a model of sanity to follow, and that practice is in large part imitation.
Without looking for anything esoteric, just consider sila, ethical conduct. When we resist habitual ways of doing things to follow a moral code, our hearts may not be in it completely, but we imitate the behavior of enlightened beings. Specifically, the complex monastic code of discipline, the Vinaya, could be seen as taking the way of the arhat as the path. Those who follow it for some time usually will realize that rather than being something burdensome and complicated, it actually makes life simple and brings a sense of freedom.
At the other end of the spectrum, seemingly abstruse or esoteric deity practices, for example, are explained as a way to develop pure vision, which can lead to recognition of the originally pure true nature of mind and phenomena. Sometimes I think of it as “pretending that things are the way they really are” or “trying to trick yourself into seeing things as they really are.” Such practices are contrived, of course, which raises red flags for some people. And even the pure vision that can come about from deity meditation is still considered illusory (but a great improvement on our usual impure illusory vision). Actually, we are already living in a totally contrived “reality,” one that is distorted by our habitual ways of perceiving and thinking; so antidotes may well be appropriate.
The Buddha taught on the different methods and antidotes for the defilements of mind, and in the case of discursive meditations, he said that whatever the mind takes up again and again it eventually becomes inclined to. And as with any other form of practice, discursive meditations are more suitable for some types of person than for others. They run the full gamut: meditations on the qualities of the Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha; on renunciation; on lovingkindness and compassion; and on emptiness, to name but a few.
Ajahn Chah said that when the mind is temporarily free of defilements, we could be said to be “temporary arhats.” Scholars of Abhidharma would quibble, but there’s a point to his statement. So when we meditate on love and compassion, we could consider ourselves temporary bodhisattvas, and visualizing ourselves as Buddha-deities, we are temporary Buddhas. Why not encourage ourselves thus? In Soto Zen, the practice of shikan taza, “just sitting,” is spoken of as sitting like a Buddha. Dogen Zenji taught about this extensively and often poetically; in Bendowa, “A Discourse on Doing One’s Utmost in Practicing the Way of the Buddhas,” he says, “Even though it may be merely for a moment, when someone, whilst sitting upright in meditation, puts the mark of the Buddha Seal upon his…body, speech, and thought, the whole physical universe and everything in it becomes and is the Buddha Seal; all of space, throughout, becomes and is enlightenment.”
I think there must have been good reason for the Buddha to have taught all these methods of meditation and guides for conduct. I once heard a talk by the Venerable Kalu Rinpoche, and in conclusion he said, “You don’t have to worry that I’m trying to deceive you. I’m an old man now, near the end of my life, so I really have no reason to want to trick you.”
“Those who cling to things as truly existing are like animals. Those who cling to things as not existing are worse.”
--Saraha
Paul Breiter
About the Author
Paul Breiter was born in Brooklyn in 1948. In 1970, he became ordained as a Buddhist monk in Thailand, where he met Ajahn Chah and became his student. After disrobing in 1977, Breiter returned to the US and continued Buddhist study with masters in the states. Breiter's books include One Monk, Many Masters, A Still Forest Pool, Venerable Father: A Life with Ajahn Chah, Being Dharma, and Everything Arises, Everything Falls Away.
Showing posts with label One Monk. Show all posts
Showing posts with label One Monk. Show all posts
Thursday, September 13, 2018
Tuesday, April 17, 2018
Guest Post from Paul Breiter: Ordinary Mind is the Way
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| Meditation hall of Wat Pah Nanachat/Wikimedia Commons |
Wat Pah Nanachat Bung Wai, International Forest Monastery of Bung Wai District in northeast Thailand, could also be named Forest Monastery of Detachment or something of that order. The influence of its founding abbot, Ven. Ajahn Sumedho, seems to pervade the woods and illuminate the forest paths.
Now noisy from the nearby highway, busy with monks, trainees, and visiting laypeople, still an atmosphere of serenity pervades the place. In the first days after arriving, the mind mulls over preferences and thinks about how things should be. Then I hear Ajahn Sumedho in my head, saying, “That’s just creating more self (atta),” or, “You don’t need to create concepts around the experience,” or, “All that does is create more suffering (dukkha).” Maybe the fact of the impermanence of outer and inner happenings is so obvious that I didn’t need to hear him mention that other characteristic of conditioned phenomena.
“Ordinary mind is the way” is a well-known saying in Zen circles, attributed to the Tang Dynasty master Nan Chuan. The different schools of Buddhism might give slightly different interpretations, but they would all agree that what it doesn’t mean is that following one’s impulses and letting conceptual thinking run wild is the way.
There is also a famous Zen dialogue in which someone asks a teacher, “What is the meaning of the Buddha’s way?” and the answer is, “Do good and refrain from evil.” The questioner counters, “Even a three-year-old child can say that,” to which the master replies, “A three-year old can say it, but a sixty-year-old can’t practice it.” Ajahn Sumedho’s instructions have always been both understandable and practical, offering an entry into the Dharma here and now, no matter what the individual’s circumstances may be. They often don’t seem to amount to much on paper, but when imbued with his presence, or the memory of his presence, they come to life. He visited the monastery ten days after I arrived there and one night gave an informal talk to a small gathering of monks and trainees.
It began with a simple enough question about difficulties with food. Forest monks subsist on one usually enormous meal per day, taken at 8 or 9 in the morning. The northeast Thai staple of glutinous rice can weigh one down even more and bring serious drowsiness, and it can take a few years to find a middle path with this most basic requisite for living.
After some reminders about use of the requisites of robes, almsfood, dwelling place, and medicines, Luang Por, as he is now known, went on to talk about states of mind and the three categories of craving (tanha). Desire for food and sex, the biological urges, is kama tanha, sensual craving. He pointed out that they are natural to the animal bodies we are born into; the way to handle them (especially for those who have taken ordination vows) is to neither indulge nor suppress, not to glorify them or feel guilty about them, but to observe their arising and ceasing and not view them as oneself or one’s own. With guilt or negative attitude toward them, we fall into vibhava tanha, desire not to be, which can only produce conflict and unhappiness. The original question, about the troubling effects on meditation practice caused by too much, too little, or the wrong kind of food, led him to point out the suffering involved in wanting things to be other than they are and in taking our experience personally.
Fear and aggression, he said, are also animal impulses related to survival. “If you were a primitive human hunting for your food in a jungle, fear and aggression would be useful emotions.” That was an interesting take on those things, which we usually judge to be entirely harmful and negative.
Bhava tanha is translated as “desire for becoming,” i.e., desire to be something. In meditation practice, it manifests as the laundry list of things we feel we should be experiencing and attaining, and is basically just a distraction from being aware of what is going on. Such desire is just that, desire, and it isn’t a self or a person but only a source of delusion and suffering.
As one contemporary Zen teacher said about “Ordinary mind is the way,” if the positive states and qualities we wish for are to appear, they have to appear in a now, and it would be best if they appeared in the now we have now--even with a busy highway near the monastery and a new 7-11 at the entrance to the once-bucolic, middle-of-nowhere village. Luang Por Sumedho always reminds us to deal with the mind we have now and not think longingly about the mind we wish we had or think we should have. Observing the conditioned mind in the present, we watch it arise and cease, arise and cease; we note that it is nothing more than a collection of conditions, something impermanent and impersonal; and not attaching to the conditioned will allow the unconditioned to appear. Staying in the monastery, shedding compulsions about what I should be doing or attaining, but just eating my food, washing my clothes, and doing sessions of formal meditation, a sense of spaciousness naturally grew. The timelessness of the Dharma was hinted at even as I ticked off the days remaining on my short stay: just to live like that, without concepts of the future, of how things should be or how I should be, I considered, might come as a great relief. Indeed, without such a viewpoint, isn’t one just living in the worldly extremes of hope and fear, in a fantasy realm?
Paul Breiter
About the Author Paul Breiter was born in Brooklyn in 1948. In 1970, he became ordained as a Buddhist monk in Thailand, where he met Ajahn Chah and became his student. After disrobing in 1977, Breiter returned to the US and continued Buddhist study with masters in the states. Breiter's books include One Monk, Many Masters, A Still Forest Pool, Venerable Father: A Life with Ajahn Chah, Being Dharma, and Everything Arises, Everything Falls Away.
Thursday, March 1, 2018
Guest Post from Author Paul Breiter: Have a Wonderful Day!
We are happy to publish a guest post from Cosimo author and Buddhist Paul Breiter, entitled "Have a Wonderful Day!"
Every morning at Wat Nanachat Bung Wai, large numbers of laypeople show up for the meal offering. Some are villagers who come daily, some come from nearby towns and cities, some from other provinces and regions of Thailand. Within this matrix of generosity and reverence for the Buddha, his teachings, and his spiritual community, there is an atmosphere of harmony and joyfulness. On my most recent visit, I saw many of the old-timers as well as many new faces. One man in particular, a little gentleman with an antiquated hearing aid, was eager to engage westerners in conversation, though his English was limited. He had recently retired at age 60 and seemed absolutely delighted to be able to come to the monastery every day. After introducing himself and struggling to converse, he would simply say, “Have a wonderful day!” and then move along to see if there was something he could do to help out in the kitchen, or someone else to share his happiness with.
In California, of course, one frequently hears a (probably insincere) rendition of those or similar words when concluding a transaction in a bank, supermarket, or other venue, so it has become something of an empty phrase to a lot of ears, not much different from “Do you want fries with that?” And in the forest monastery, the impulse of visiting western Buddhists is often to keep a distance from people so as not to get drawn into conversations. We have serious work to do, after all, what with the nature of existence being dukkha, and usually a limited time in which to do it. Or maybe I just habitually flash back to the days when the presence of a farang was taken as an opportunity to practice speaking English and perhaps pick up a free lesson, so I am always ready to run when Thais approach and start speaking English.
But after going through various reactions, I thought, “Why not?” The fellow’s happiness was so obvious that it was infectious, even for a stodgy type like me. And what could be better than wishing from the heart that everyone have a wonderful day? Contrary to many half-baked and poorly informed ideas, the Buddha didn’t teach about suffering in order to make us gloomy; he showed a way out of suffering, and being around those who dedicate their lives to practicing the way, and people in a culture that has practiced and revered that way for centuries, you can’t help but notice a lot of happiness. It made me reflect on the Chinese Buddhist custom of greeting each other by simply saying the name of Amitabha Buddha. Why not use our speech to elevate our minds, rather than letting it drag us into the old patterns of habit and unskillfulness? So much of what we say is at best unnecessary, so much is to our detriment and provokes turmoil and regret.
Ajahn Chah (echoing the late Tibetan master Tinley Norbu Rinpoche) said something about the process of growing food, and how a farmer could cut to the chase and just say that what he grows is earth, since that is the origin and substance of it all—it is a lot more simple and direct than explaining all the steps in growing grains and vegetables, and in the end, what does it matter what we say about it, and how many people want to listen to a detailed explanation? Similarly, instead of struggling to find something profound to say, or giving a discourse to everyone we meet, with voluminous quotations from scripture and enlightened teachers to back it up, why not just say, “Have a wonderful day” and move along? Surely the Buddha would be pleased if we could all have a wonderful day.
Have a wonderful day!
Every morning at Wat Nanachat Bung Wai, large numbers of laypeople show up for the meal offering. Some are villagers who come daily, some come from nearby towns and cities, some from other provinces and regions of Thailand. Within this matrix of generosity and reverence for the Buddha, his teachings, and his spiritual community, there is an atmosphere of harmony and joyfulness. On my most recent visit, I saw many of the old-timers as well as many new faces. One man in particular, a little gentleman with an antiquated hearing aid, was eager to engage westerners in conversation, though his English was limited. He had recently retired at age 60 and seemed absolutely delighted to be able to come to the monastery every day. After introducing himself and struggling to converse, he would simply say, “Have a wonderful day!” and then move along to see if there was something he could do to help out in the kitchen, or someone else to share his happiness with.
In California, of course, one frequently hears a (probably insincere) rendition of those or similar words when concluding a transaction in a bank, supermarket, or other venue, so it has become something of an empty phrase to a lot of ears, not much different from “Do you want fries with that?” And in the forest monastery, the impulse of visiting western Buddhists is often to keep a distance from people so as not to get drawn into conversations. We have serious work to do, after all, what with the nature of existence being dukkha, and usually a limited time in which to do it. Or maybe I just habitually flash back to the days when the presence of a farang was taken as an opportunity to practice speaking English and perhaps pick up a free lesson, so I am always ready to run when Thais approach and start speaking English.
But after going through various reactions, I thought, “Why not?” The fellow’s happiness was so obvious that it was infectious, even for a stodgy type like me. And what could be better than wishing from the heart that everyone have a wonderful day? Contrary to many half-baked and poorly informed ideas, the Buddha didn’t teach about suffering in order to make us gloomy; he showed a way out of suffering, and being around those who dedicate their lives to practicing the way, and people in a culture that has practiced and revered that way for centuries, you can’t help but notice a lot of happiness. It made me reflect on the Chinese Buddhist custom of greeting each other by simply saying the name of Amitabha Buddha. Why not use our speech to elevate our minds, rather than letting it drag us into the old patterns of habit and unskillfulness? So much of what we say is at best unnecessary, so much is to our detriment and provokes turmoil and regret.
Ajahn Chah (echoing the late Tibetan master Tinley Norbu Rinpoche) said something about the process of growing food, and how a farmer could cut to the chase and just say that what he grows is earth, since that is the origin and substance of it all—it is a lot more simple and direct than explaining all the steps in growing grains and vegetables, and in the end, what does it matter what we say about it, and how many people want to listen to a detailed explanation? Similarly, instead of struggling to find something profound to say, or giving a discourse to everyone we meet, with voluminous quotations from scripture and enlightened teachers to back it up, why not just say, “Have a wonderful day” and move along? Surely the Buddha would be pleased if we could all have a wonderful day.
Have a wonderful day!
Paul Breiter
About the Author
Paul Breiter was born in Brooklyn in 1948. In 1970, he became ordained as a Buddhist monk in Thailand, where he met Ajahn Chah and became his student. After disrobing in 1977, Breiter returned to the US and continued Buddhist study with masters in the states. Breiter's books include One Monk, Many Masters, A Still Forest Pool, Venerable Father: A Life with Ajahn Chah, Being Dharma, and Everything Arises, Everything Falls Away.
Paul Breiter was born in Brooklyn in 1948. In 1970, he became ordained as a Buddhist monk in Thailand, where he met Ajahn Chah and became his student. After disrobing in 1977, Breiter returned to the US and continued Buddhist study with masters in the states. Breiter's books include One Monk, Many Masters, A Still Forest Pool, Venerable Father: A Life with Ajahn Chah, Being Dharma, and Everything Arises, Everything Falls Away.
Tuesday, January 30, 2018
January eBook of the Month: Venerable Father by Paul Breiter
Available until now only in limited editions, Venerable Father has become an underground classic among Buddhists, especially those practicing the Thai tradition. It details the joys and struggles of Paul Breiter's years with Ajahn Chah, who was perhaps Thailand's best-known and most-loved Buddhist master.
Breiter describes Ajahn Chah as a figure who is at once human yet extraordinary, an orthodox yet unconventional teacher whose remarkable skill, patience, and compassion in training disciples flowed naturally from his deep and joyous realization of the truth. Breiter also explains, quite vividly, the life of a Westerner in a Thai forest monastery and the unique spiritual lessons to be learned there.
About the Author
Paul Breiter was born in Brooklyn in 1948. In 1970, he became ordained as a Buddhist monk in Thailand, where he met Ajahn Chah and became his student. After disrobing in 1977, Breiter returned to the US and continued Buddhist study with masters in the states. Breiter's other books include One Monk, Many Masters, A Still Forest Pool, Being Dharma, and Everything Arises, Everything Falls Away.
Thursday, January 18, 2018
January Book of the Month: One Monk, Many Masters
In 1969, Paul Breiter was among the throngs of disaffected youth who traveled to the exotic East, seeking to escape the cultural and spiritual upheavals at home. He traveled first to India, thinking that indulging the senses would be his means of finding God. Instead, he found himself at a monastery in Thailand, taking the precepts of a Buddhist monk. He would spend the next seven years in robes, not indulging the senses, but depriving them.
One Monk, Many Masters is an account of Breiter's life as a monk and his ongoing search for enlightenment after leaving the monastic robes. Breiter's spiritual wanderings weave through the Theravada, Zen, and Tibetan Buddhist traditions under such great teachers as Ajahn Chah, Ajahn Sumedho, Kobun Chino, Lama Gonpo, and the 16th Karmapa. After being out of print for a number of years, Cosimo Books is proud to make Paul Breiter's biography available again.
About the Author
Paul Breiter was born in Brooklyn in 1948. In 1970, he became ordained as a Buddhist monk in Thailand, where he met Ajahn Chah and became his student. After disrobing in 1977, Breiter returned to the US and continued Buddhist study with masters in the states. Breiter's other books include Venerable Father: A Life with Ajahn Chah (from Paraview Special Editions), A Still Forest Pool, Being Dharma, and Everything Arises, Everything Falls Away.
Paul Breiter was born in Brooklyn in 1948. In 1970, he became ordained as a Buddhist monk in Thailand, where he met Ajahn Chah and became his student. After disrobing in 1977, Breiter returned to the US and continued Buddhist study with masters in the states. Breiter's other books include Venerable Father: A Life with Ajahn Chah (from Paraview Special Editions), A Still Forest Pool, Being Dharma, and Everything Arises, Everything Falls Away.
Thursday, December 28, 2017
Cosimo's Newest Release, One Monk, Many Masters, is Now Available!
One Monk, Many Masters is an account of Breiter's life as a monk and his ongoing search for enlightenment after leaving the monastic robes. Breiter's spiritual wanderings weave through the Theravada, Zen, and Tibetan Buddhist traditions under such great teachers as Ajahn Chah, Ajahn Sumedho, Kobun Chino, Lama Gonpo, and the 16th Karmapa. After being out of print for a number of years, Cosimo Books is proud to make Paul Breiter's biography available again.
Early reviews are in!
"Breiter's knack for unadorned observation takes the reader on a worthwhile trek through modern Buddhism as journeyed by a Western layman turned monk and back again."
—Sakula Mary Reinard, Spiritual Director, Portland Friends of the Dhamma
"Breiter's experience with Buddhist teachers, expressed in this book with honesty and insight, is a pleasure to read."
–Angie (Zuiko Enji) Boissevain
About the Author
Paul Breiter was born in Brooklyn in 1948. In 1970, he became ordained as a Buddhist monk in Thailand, where he met Ajahn Chah and became his student. After disrobing in 1977, Breiter returned to the US and continued Buddhist study with masters in the states. Breiter's other books include Venerable Father: A Life with Ajahn Chah (from Paraview Special Editions), A Still Forest Pool, Being Dharma, and Everything Arises, Everything Falls Away.
To read the full press release, please click here.
Paul Breiter was born in Brooklyn in 1948. In 1970, he became ordained as a Buddhist monk in Thailand, where he met Ajahn Chah and became his student. After disrobing in 1977, Breiter returned to the US and continued Buddhist study with masters in the states. Breiter's other books include Venerable Father: A Life with Ajahn Chah (from Paraview Special Editions), A Still Forest Pool, Being Dharma, and Everything Arises, Everything Falls Away.
To read the full press release, please click here.
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