Durrian and potatoes and simsapa leaves

There is a lively discussion over at Sweep the Dust, Push the Dirt, where John wrote an excellent post about comments made by the Dalai Lama recently at the University of Wisconsin. John notes in his post that within Buddhism, there is no concept of original sin, and he references a statement made by the Dalai Lama at Madison that our basic nature is pure rather than sinful.

This has led to a very interesting litany of comments raising the issue of original sin versus kamma; isn’t the idea of kamma similar to the concept of original sin? If Christianity posits that we are born with the burden of original sin, isn’t that parallel to the Buddha’s teaching on kamma, that our current birth condition and life is the result of our kamma, our previous actions both in the recent past and from previous lives?

I thought about leaving my own comment, but I realized my response would be far too long. Because, essentially, I believe the discussion to be frivolous. John is correct to say that there is no original sin within Buddhism; the Dalai Lama is correct to say that our basic nature is pure, that we corrupt this pure nature through our misunderstanding of how things really are.

And the comments by those who say that our current life condition is premised upon our past actions – kamma – both within this life and from earlier life times are correct as well.

But the effort to draw parallels between the two concepts of original sin and kamma is contrived and pointless, as they are not the same thing at all, nor are they even similar. It’s not that we’re talking apples and oranges here; the concepts of original sin and kamma are so fundamentally different that we might as well be talking about durrian and potatoes, and any discussion or effort to identify similarities between the two is to be concerned with the simsapa leaves up in the trees above our heads, rather than with the few leaves held within the Buddha’s hand. It is Wrong View.

First, there’s the fundamental difference between sin and kamma. A sin is an offense; to commit an offense, someone must be offended. Our vernacular reflects this with such phrases such as a “sin against nature” or a “sin against god.” Although nature is not a person, we personify it. Kamma is action and the results it brings. The crux of kamma is intent; when our intentions are turned into action either via doing or speaking, we create kamma because all action has a consequence, every cause results in an effect. The result can be either pleasant or unpleasant; there really isn’t any good or bad kamma, it’s all just kamma. That’s why the Buddha talked about liberation is achieved when we end kamma.

The effects of kamma can either be immediately manifested, or be delayed, or both immediately evident and delayed. And this is where, I believe, the discussion gets off track and people start to draw parallels between kamma and original sin. But let’s examine the concept of original sin first, because all I described above was sin.

As I recall from my catechisms, Original Sin originated with Adam and Eve. In the Garden of Eden, God gave Adam and Eve everything they needed, but He warned them not to eat the fruit from the Tree of Knowledge. Satan manipulated Eve and tricked her into eating the fruit anyway and sharing it with Adam. This annoyed the hell out of God, and so he burdened not only Adam and Eve, but all of their progeny with Original Sin. So in Christian doctrine, or at least Catholic doctrine, we are born with the burden of the original sin – the first sin – committed by Adam and Eve. It’s not even our own sin! And the only way to lift this burden is to appease god and seek his forgiveness. As a gay man, I have no chance with this transaction.

However, I am the owner of my kamma. It is not a burden laid upon me, causing me to start my life in the hole, so to speak. It just simply is. And no matter what my current state of affairs are, no matter what my previous life had been, I always have the opportunity to eliminate my kamma and liberate myself in this life time, perhaps even in this moment. It is for me to accomplish, no one else, and no one else can prevent me from accomplishing it should I see its potential – not god, not a devil, not another person, just me.

I think people become fixated on the notion that “life is suffering,” the First Noble Truth. But that is really just one way of saying it. Life contains suffering, but it’s not all suffering all the time. So to suggest that “life is suffering” is the Buddhist rendition of original sin is to miss the mark of what the First Noble Truth is really telling us. In my post on the Four Noble Truths, I simplified the first truth into the absurd statement that “life sucks.” But the reality is that life doesn’t suck, life is simply life. We tend to say it sucks because life never fully meets our expectations, or at least when it does, it’s only temporary. Hence we become disappointed because we expect permanence where none exists. Ergo, we experience dissatisfaction.

Sariputta: “Now what, friends, is the noble truth of stress? Birth is stressful, aging is stressful, death is stressful; sorrow, lamentation, pain, distress, & despair are stressful; not getting what is wanted is stressful. In short, the five clinging-aggregates are stressful.” (MN 141)

Yes, life is stressful! Birth is stressful! Right from the freaking start, life is a bloody morass of stress! But it isn’t specifically stressful for just we humans; it’s freaking stressful for all forms of life. Even plants experience stress!

This is not, however, equivalent to original sin. While we enter this world kicking and screaming and wanting to crawl back into the womb, we are nonetheless born into this world unburdened by any debt owed to some deity or higher power. Our ultimate happiness is not dependent on appeasing external forces; rather, the seeds to our happiness are already within us. We enter each lifetime fully equipped to stop the cycle on our own. Whatever burdens we carry from previous lives are our own; we made them, we can undo them.

The Queerness of Dhamma

John over at Sweep the Dust, Push the Dirt has a post with a good list of some of the characteristics of Buddhism that demonstrate well the reasons I believe Buddhism is a much easier faith system for gays to immerse themselves in than other doctrines. John’s intention for the list, however, differs from mine (he compiled it as a suggested list of responses to an Evangelical Christian of how Buddhism differs from Christianity); my intention is to extrapolate and present those characteristics that ought to be considered by gays searching for a spiritual path.

1. “There is no Omniscient God in Buddhism.” I would add that there is also no omnipresent or omnipotent god in Buddhism. The point is there is no one single god for you to petition to save your ass. The Buddha acknowledged that various gods and spirits exist, some of whom can be helpful to you, and others who are bothersome. But rather than teach others to seek salvation and grace through any of these beings, the Buddha teaches us that the key to our happiness and redemption lies within us and within our control – not outside of us in the hands of someone or something else.
   
   
2. “Buddhists do not owe any allegiance to a supernatural being.” There is no angry, self-centered god in Buddhism that you must constantly appease to avoid spiritual retribution. There are two “gods” in particular that the Buddha spoke of frequently: Brahma and Mara. Brahma is the “chief” Hindu god with whom the Buddha debated at times. Brahma paid deference to the Buddha, not the other way around. And there is a passage in the Tipitika (Buddhist scriptures) in which Brahma admits that he does not know where the beginning or the end of the universe lies. Mara, for lack of a better term, is Satan, the devil. But Buddhism doesn’t require you to believe that Mara truly exists; because the Buddha uses Mara more often as a metaphor for the deluded mind rather than a real deity. So for us gays, we don’t have to justify or rationalize who we are to fit in.
   
   
3. “The Buddha is a guide and teacher. Not a savior or incarnation of a God.” We do not worship the Buddha. The Buddha is gone. When we bow to a Buddha statue or image, or burn incense and mutter unintelligible sayings in some cryptic language, we are not praying or making offerings to a god. We are paying respect to what the Buddha left behind after his passing, all his teachings about how to overcome our own suffering and help others to alleviate their suffering. There are sects of Buddhism that come closer to the notion that the Buddha as a god that you can petition, but they are a minority. Despite that, the Buddha did not tell people to not believe in a god or not pray; if doing so helps you to develop kindness for others and better awareness of your own actions and the consequences they bring, then go ahead and believe. It just isn’t required; you can still attain release from the cycle of suffering and not believe in any deity at all.
   
   
4. “We all have Buddha Nature and can realize that through striving to cut our delusions.” Just as Christians seek to be Christ-like, we Buddhists strive to emulate the Buddha. And despite what others may say or think, realizing our own Buddha nature is not some impossible or even improbable feat. The key is, rather, that successful realization of our Buddha nature is in our hands, not someone else’s. It means seeing things as they really are, rather than what we wish them to be. This does not mean we become doormats and let the larger society wipe their feet on us. It does mean, however, that we remain focused on the present and on what we are doing right now, because out of the present our future is shaped. And while we don’t dwell in the past, we recognize that all we’ve done in the past – good, bad, or indifferent – has consequences that will be eventually revealed, sometimes at inopportune times.
   
   
5. “Heavens (other realms of existence) may exist, who knows?” The Buddha taught that it is unnecessary to believe in a heaven; you can if you want. What is important is the clear understanding that you can reduce – even eliminate – the suffering you experience in this life right now by taking complete responsibility for all that you think, say or do. If there is no afterlife, you’re fine because by being responsible and living a moral life, you will be happy and content. If there is an afterlife, then by being responsible and living a moral life, you will have secured a happy existence in the afterlife. The point is to stop worrying about what happens next: focus on what is happening now and you don’t have to worry about what happens next. The same is true of a hell. If you live carelessly now, behaving badly toward others, your life right now will be filled with suffering. You don’t need a hell in an afterlife because you’re already responsible for creating one right now.
   
   
6. “I may or may not be reborn….this has nothing to do with reincarnation.” In Buddhism we talk about rebirth; it is not the same as reincarnation. In reincarnation, the same “person” or “soul” is reborn over and over. With rebirth, it is your actions and intentions that are reborn; what bodily form these actions and intentions – or kamma – take upon rebirth depends on their quality. But that’s all I’m going to say about this rather complex subject, because the fact is you don’t have to accept the concept of rebirth to live your life guided by the Buddha’s teachings. So don’t get hung up on this concept. It’s not important right now. A way to simplify this concept, however, is to think back on some basic science you learned in school: matter and energy can neither be created nor destroyed, but only change in form.
   
   
7. “A balance of Metta, Wisdom and Compassion are the cornerstones of Buddhism.” Actually, compassion falls under metta; it should be metta, wisdom and concentration. Metta translates best as loving kindness or loving friendliness. Wisdom isn’t just smarts, it’s the quality of being able to see things as they really are. And concentration is the ability to control and direct the mind in appropriate directions so that we think, speak and act in skillful ways; it is developed through meditation. Now think of a three-legged stool. If each of the three legs is the same length, then the stool will be stable; you can sit on it without it wobbling, leading you to fall off. Now think of Buddhist practice as that three-legged stool, with each leg being metta, wisdom and concentration. A lot of people spend too much time on concentration and not enough on metta and wisdom, and as a result, their practice becomes lopsided. They get some of the benefits, but not all the benefits. The key is to develop all three simultaneously, as that creates a stable practice that brings good results. Buddhism is about action, not thinking.
   
   
8. “Suffering happens. Deal with it. This is not sin.” It is an easy trap to fall into, the idea of blaming others for our woes. It’s a trap because that type of thinking misleads us into a sense of powerlessness. Yes, there are forces – politics – that work against us gays. They will probably always be there because the world will always be filled with greed, hatred and delusion. But I am in charge of my own happiness, and I can be happy despite the presence of greed, hatred and delusion in others. I do that through cultivating the Noble Eightfold Path, a topic for another day.
   
   
9. No eternal Hell or eternal Heaven. No eternal anything except what is eternal.” And what is eternal? Impermanence; all phenomena have a beginning, middle, and end. Yet, many of us just don’t see this or refuse to accept it. Our refusal to see that nothing is permanent, including emotions, is at the root of most of our suffering. We fall in love with someone and we expect things to remain the same forever. They won’t. And surprise, surprise, we get disappointed about this. How does a couple find each other and remain together for the rest of their lives? By understanding and embracing the fact that their relationship will always be changing, that it will not remain static. That is the key to happiness.

This list is a good place to start with a personal investigation of Buddhism. I do not present this as representative of every school or branch of Buddhism that is out there. But I believe it is a good representation of Buddhism’s essence and why gay people – or anyone searching for a spiritual path – should consider Buddhism and its path to freedom.

I want again to acknowledge my friend Jimmy Huang for the photo used with this post.

The Five Recollections

As I mentioned in my previous post, I had read an item by Jack Daw at his blog Sweep the Dust Push the Dirt that reminded me of something that had been missing from my daily practice: reciting the Five Remembrances.

The Five Remembrances are:

1. I am of the nature to decay; I have not got beyond decay.
2. I am of the nature to be diseased; I have not got beyond disease.
3. I am of the nature to die; I have not got beyond death.
4. All that is mine, beloved and pleasing, will change and vanish.
5. I am the owner of my kamma, heir to my kamma, born of my kamma, related to my kamma, abide supported by my kamma; whatever kamma I shall do, whether good or evil, of that I shall be the heir.

To assist me in making these Five Remembrances concrete for my simple mind, I have arranged a few items on the shelf that I face while I meditate. My practice includes reciting these Five Remembrances aloud so that they penetrate my thick head to remind me that all of the things I don’t like or want to think about are going to happen to me regardless. Ergo, if I recognize these five items as being real and happening to me right now in this moment, it can energize my mental focus and bring Right Effort into my daily activities.

I am of the nature to decay: I have not got beyond decay.

At the heart of this is the fact that I grow old. I am growing old. I am not staying the same. That’s why I have the photo on the right, which is a picture of me from the second grade. It’s to remind me I’m not that person any more. And moment by moment, I am constantly becoming a new individual. It also reminds me that my body is always changing. I can’t eat and drink like I did when I was 35 and still stay a dashingly slim 185 pounds. I can’t climb mountains like I used to, as I have arthritis in my right ankle. Oh wait, that’s number two.

I am of the nature to be diseased; I have not got beyond disease.

Because I live in this bag of bones, I am subject to tiny little creatures called viruses and bacteria that make me feel like hell from time to time. And in general, time takes its toll as well. So yes, my shoulder aches, my ankle gets puffy, I can swim two-thirds of a mile in about 30 minutes, but that’s the best I can get this old heap to do nowadays.

I am of the nature to die; I have not got beyond death.

Lots of folk say so-and-so died of cancer, or died of old age, or died from a heart attack, or died from a broken heart. Doesn’t matter, we are all going to die. And it’s birth that kills us. It just might take a while. Now, this may sound really depressing. Maudlin even. But that’s just an excuse for not paying attention to it. And as a result, we end up living carelessly. Death waits for no one. It is what unites all life. Don Juan used to tell this to Carlos Casteneda – death makes all forms of life equal.

All that is mine, beloved and pleasing, will change and vanish.

Oh, how true, how true. This is the toughest. Whether it’s your spouse, a partner, a parent, a brother, a sister, a son, a daughter, a mother, a father, a friend … everyone changes, everyone dies, or things change. A young parent might delight in their new child, laugh and play with them, but then becomes shocked when that child becomes a teenager and no longer has the same interests or desire to be with a parent. And the parent becomes hurt. Why? Because this inevitable change was not anticipated. Key word there: anticipate. It’s different from expecting something to happen. To anticipate means that you not only expect the event, but are prepared for it. It can also mean you took steps to avoid that uncomfortable future.

I am the owner of my kamma, heir to my kamma, born of my kamma, related to my kamma, abide supported by my kamma; whatever kamma I shall do, whether good or evil, of that I shall be the heir.

It all belongs to me. The parents I had was kamma; the fact I am gay is kamma; the fact that I am male is kamma. That doesn’t mean it’s bad or good kamma, it’s just kamma. And as long as I am clear on this, I can recognize that what is done is done. What counts now is the moment, because out of this very moment arises my future. If I screw up now, I am screwing with my future. Which is why I really like the last line on side 2 of “Abbey Road.”

“And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.”

Death as a teacher

Jack Daw over at Sweep the Dust, Push the Dirt, always has great posts, but lately he’s written a couple that have really sparked my thoughts, prompting me to share my own experiences on these topics. His post regarding death really struck a chord with me. In particular, his mention of the Five Remembrances, which I know as the Five Recollections, prompted me to resume something that had been missing from my meditative practice for quite some time.

Contemplating death ought to be an important part of anyone’s Buddhist practice, but as Jack points out, it’s a subject often treated superficially, if it gets any attention at all. Yet our serious contemplation on this subject can be transformative, as indicated by this passage, taken from Ten Dhamma Talks by Sister Ayya Khema:

“If we really believe in our impending death, not just use the words, our attitude towards people and situations changes completely. We are no longer the same person then. The one we have been until now hasn’t brought us complete satisfaction, contentment and peacefulness … If we were to remember each morning that death is certain, but now have another day to live, gratitude and determination can arise to do something useful with that day.”

Let me take the risk of boring all of you with my personal journey with death. Fair warning, I’m afraid this is going to be a long post. But death has been one of my teachers for a long time, despite the fact I was, for the most part, completely oblivious to its lessons.

It was either Flag Day or Independence Day in 1968 when I awoke at home completely alone. It unnerved me a bit, as I was only 9 years old, that I could wake to an empty house like that. I don’t have a clear memory of how the news was eventually delivered to me, but I learned later that day that my father had a heart attack while he was putting the flag up on our front porch. He was in the hospital in something called intensive care. That was it, that’s all anyone told me. And for years I had no idea what a heart attack was, or that my father had a very close brush with death.

Fast forward to 1972 when I was 14. I was out riding my motorcycle around a lake where my parents were building their retirement home when I came upon a scene of people watching a rescue crew pull a body from the water. I watched and listened, gathering enough information to learn that a man was water skiing in an area of the lake that he shouldn’t have been, because when he fell, he struck his head on a stump in the water. It was the first dead body I had ever seen, yet my reaction to seeing the corpse was barely discernable. I didn’t know who this man was; but there it was – death.

I’m pretty sure it was that same summer when I begrudgingly helped my father and a brother-in-law dig trenches around what was to be our new home near the lake to bury Styrofoam around the foundation to increase the house’s energy efficiency. I hated doing this laborious work and wanted to be doing anything but that. My utter uselessness led to my father’s frustration and he angrily told me to get the hell out of there and do whatever I damn pleased. I did and went off riding my motorcycle. When I returned later in the afternoon, dad was lying in bed. Mom told me that he had angina; again, no real explanation of what that meant. But I remember quietly walking down the hall to peak into their bedroom to see him lying on the bed, resting. At that moment, I finally understood what a heart attack was.

An interesting aside: My father was born in 1910 when Halley’s Comet passed by the Earth. He died in 1986 when Halley’s Comet last passed by the Earth. It was a heart attack that killed him.
My father, I slowly learned, was a very compassionate man. We had Siamese cats, two of them. They both caught feline leukemia. When the first was so sick it was beyond help, he placed it into a large hat box, which he took out to the edge of the woods by our house where he would shoot it with my .22 rifle. But he couldn’t bear to see the animal as he shot it, so he left the lid on the box. Of course, he missed making a fatal shot. Up in the house as I watched out the window, I could hear the cat’s shrieking and reflexive thumping against the side of the hat box as my father fumbled with the rifle, a single-shot bolt action weapon, as he tried as quickly as possible to insert another bullet. When he successfully managed that, he pushed the lid off the box and fired point-blank.

When the next cat became so ill that death was inevitable, he and I together did things differently. He was a biology teacher. We went to his classroom and picked up a plastic funnel, a large wad of cotton, and a bottle of ether. We soaked the cotton with the ether, put the cotton into the funnel then placed the funnel over the cat’s head. It was so weak it just lied there. Slowly, quietly, it died.

I didn’t “come out” to my family until I was 35 years old, and the first person I told was my mother. I was quite fearful of her reaction as the Catholic Church was her life and we all know how accommodating the Catholic doctrine is of homosexuality. I had been away from home for a very long time and did not know that the priest in her parish at that time had brought a very positive message to the congregation about gays and, most importantly, AIDS. She showed me an article about the priest that mentioned another man named Mark who was living with AIDS. The writer quoted Mark as saying that he lived in a remote area and sometimes needed help with simple things like housekeeping or getting to the doctor. I decided to give Mark a call and offer my help.

I could tell Mark was suspicious of my intentions when I called him, but he agreed to meet me at his uncle’s house, as he did not want me to know where he lived yet. When we met, he revealed that he knew who I was, that he remembered me because we went to high school together. He was a year ahead of me, and we had never associated with each other, so I had no recollection of him. We became friends and I would visit him from time to time to watch movies and call him more frequently to chat.

One night I gave him a call to see how he was doing. When he answered, I could hear he was weak, his voice distant and faint. He told me he was having a bout of fever. I asked if he needed anything, but he didn’t reply. All I could hear was his wheezy, raspy breathing. I told him I was on my way over. It was about a 20 mile drive. When I arrived he appeared to feel better than he sounded on the phone. As long as I was there, he suggested, why don’t we watch a movie? During the movie the fever returned; I could hear his raspy and labored breathing. I moved from my chair to the couch where he lay, sat so he could lay against me and I put my arms around his chest. We sat like that and watched the rest of the movie.

It was very late when I left. He later told me that the following day he drove himself four hours to the V.A. hospital in Ann Arbor (he was ex-Navy, honorable discharge) where he was treated for PCP, a rare form of pneumonia that was a common killer among AIDS patients. A year later, he drove by himself from Michigan to San Francisco where he died a few months later.

At that time, I think every gay man thought about how he may die. We all, I think, wondered what we would do, how we would behave, when we received that information that many of us believed to be inevitable – that we have AIDS and were going to die. Getting the results for every HIV test I had was always a time when I had to face my mortality. And every time I wondered what I would do, how I would feel, should I learn I was positive. I’ve been fortunate when so many others have not.

And so when I came to Buddhism, my teacher impressed upon me how important recognizing the inevitability of death was, its utter certainty. And I realized how much I had already encountered death, and how I was continuing to encounter it. I just hadn’t always been paying attention.

My teacher talked about how monks would go to cemeteries in the middle of the night to meditate and contemplate death. I couldn’t do that, but interestingly, I had a book about homicide reporting – I was a police reporter for a newspaper at the time – that had all kinds of grisly photos of corpses in various states of decay. I didn’t like looking at those photos because my monkey mind always set an emotional trap for me, leading me to think about that “poor dead person,” how they “must have suffered at the hands of their killer.” But the point of meditating on death, my teacher emphasized, it to realize that our body is not who we are, it’s just a body. And the photos of decaying corpses and dismembered homicide victims in my book were not images of people – they’re just bodies.

I have a different attitude about death now than I did in the past. But there is still something very important for me to do that I haven’t done, and that is use death as an appropriate motivator. Death can be a useful tool to prompt us into action, to take the steps we know we ought to, but just haven’t gotten around to taking.

The notion that death waits for no one is a worthy one for contemplation.