punya | dhamma footsteps

Excerpt from ‘A Buddhist Reflection on the Tragedy of September 11’ by Ajahn Jayasaro, 2001: In this excerpt, Ajahn Jayasaro is talking about how we can learn, through the Buddha’s Teaching, to face this tragedy and here he refers to the three-fold training: sila (morality) samadhi (focus) panya (wisdom). Excerpt begins with sila (morality) and the link with volition: ‘Linking morality to volition means that to be consistently moral we need to educate ourselves about volition, not in the abstract as an intellectual exercise, but in the concrete present, as it manifests in our experience. The central role played by volition demands that we develop a power of introspection, an honesty and willingness, and an ability to look very clearly at our mind. We need to develop this form of education to the extent that we don’t rationalize our cravings and fears so automatically, that we are unable to lie to ourself as we used to do. In responding to a painful situation, for instance, we have to observe to what extent we are affected by the desire for justice, and to what extent for revenge. Is anger present, self-righteousness, fear? Are these wholesome or unwholesome qualities of mind, — to be trusted or not?

Morality here then is not a matter of following a number of rules or commandments, but of using precepts as tools in which to be clearly aware of and responsible for the motives behind one’s actions. Although the moral training in Buddhism demands a certain amount of awareness and a capacity for introspection, it is not the whole of the training. There are also specific practices for educating our emotions and discernment.

Thus we refer to a three-fold training, one which provides a framework within which to address the difficulties or dilemmas that we face in our lives. The training in morality is the foundation. It involves firstly the intelligent adoption of standards of conduct towards the external world and particularly other human beings, and then learning how to be mindful of them in daily life and bring them to bear on our behavior.

It is at this level of the training that we see the central role of self-discipline. But self-discipline is far from being a panacea for all our ills. We can’t decide not to get angry as an act of will, we can’t decide not to feel vengeful, we can’t decide not to have emotions. If we misapply self discipline then we create the conditions for guilt and repression.

Emotions are one natural part of our life. We have to understand them. Some emotions deserve to be cultivated, others do not. In our gardens we distinguish between weeds and flowers. Although we remove weeds we don’t consider our garden evil for having them. So the first principle of training the emotions and mental states is that force doesn’t work; intelligence, sincerity and patience do.

The second can soon be clearly seen: the ability to abandon the unwholesome qualities in our minds and encourage the wholesome is conditioned to a great extent by our ability to focus and concentrate our mind. This aspect of mental culture has been neglected in the Western world for many centuries. An educated person, in Buddhist view, is not only someone who can think rationally, analytically, but is also someone who can, on the necessary occasion, stop thinking altogether.

The mind, which is bound to mental states, tends to see things as clear cut, black-and-white, and often over simplifies the complexity of situations; it reacts in habitual ways. The mind which can put down habitual thinking processes, stand back from the rush of thought and emotion, suddenly has access to far more choices and pathways.

The Buddhist insistence is merely that the most constructive action springs from stillness. The wisest reflection takes into consideration, not only our own immediate interest or the interest of our particular group or nation; it also bears in mind the interests of our children, our children’s children and many generations in the future who are yet to be born. And this kind of thinking demands the ability to step back from one’s immediate attachments. It is dependent on mental culture, mental development.

The third aspect of this training is the training of wisdom and understanding, teaching people how to really look at their actions and their consequences, seeking to understand situations more clearly. Initially it means regularly contemplating the very simple facts of life which we tend to overlook, in particular the nature of change. Changes may be slow methodical, expected, welcome but they may also quite often be sudden, unexpected and unwelcome. It is an inarguable fact that every one of us, sooner or later, will have to be separated from those whom we love.

The Buddha encouraged us to be students of change and to understand its nature. We should be looking at change, looking at uncertainty, looking at insecurity face-to-face everyday. Life is insecure. There is no real security in a changing world and the frantic search for an unrealistic security is only going to lead to tension and pain. There has to be a certain point where we create the conditions for security as best we can, but humbly acknowledge the fact that ultimately we have no defence against uncertainty and change. We have no rights. We can and should create conventions about human rights and it is important that such rights are vigorously upheld in human society. But ultimately, we have rights to nothing except the way things are: we are born, we get old, we get sick, and we die. We must be patient and willing to keep going against the grain of self-indulgence, looking again and again at the way things are; educating ourselves about those things which brighten and clarify our minds; those attitudes, those thoughts, those emotions which cloud and brutalize our minds. The more we do this work, the more we see that we have a choice which way we want to go, the way of darkness or the way of light.’

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Lower photo by Louk Vresswijk, taken in July before the attacks, shows the twin towers in a modern New York setting. Location, a column in Cathedral Saint John the Divine, 1047 Amsterdam Avenue, NYC.

Ajahn Jayasaro [Link to: 9/11 A Buddhist Reflection pdf]

Aug 19: US President Barak Obama wished Muslims around the world “Eid Mubarak” for the festival marking the end of the holy month of Ramadan. In a statement released by the White House the President extended warm wishes to Muslim communities in the United States and around the world as they celebrate Eid al-Fitr. President Obama said: “we congratulate Muslim Americans and Muslims around the world on this joyous day. Eid Mubarak.”

This morning around 5 am I open the laptop and get the news. Yes, I’d forgotten about the Eid, it’s not something you’d really notice unless you’re living in a Muslim community. Around this time of year, at the end of Ramadan the sighting of a sliver of the new moon at sunset signals that this is Eid al-Fitr – it happens at different times for Muslims in various parts of the world. The only time I experienced this was when Jiab and I were in Dhaka Bangladesh. And by coincidence we had a visit from a Buddhist monk from Thailand at that time. We hadn’t realised that his visit would be on the day of the Eid, and when I noticed the date on the calendar I sent an email to Ajahn suggesting we postpone the visit because of the Eid, but he insisted it was ok; in fact, a good time to come.

My hesitation was that Eid is when they slaughter cows and distribute meat to all members of the community. It’s a big day of benevolence and all the poor gather around the houses of the rich waiting to receive their share. If you’re a vegetarian, it’s hard to look at this. The thing is, there are all kinds of things we’d like to turn away from, and we can, but we’re deluding ourselves if we do – this is why Ajahn insisted we go ahead with the schedule. So, it wasn’t easy for me and I didn’t know what to expect. My Muslim friends said that in Dhaka city the presence of cow carcasses on that day would be hard to avoid. In Dhaka, like all Asian cities, everything happens on the street, in the public area, and there’d not be any route coming in from the airport that would not go through these sites. I needn’t have worried, though, because Ajahn was completely okay about it.

I went to the airport, found Ajahn in the crowd, not difficult to find him, the only one there in the pale tangerine-brown robe standing in the line beaming with joy. We left there for the apartment and on the way into the town all the places at the side of the road where the killings had taken place were pretty obvious and thankfully the killing had already happened, some hours before, at dawn. Muslim friends tell me there is a special way it’s done so that the animal feels no pain, no stress. We made our way through the slow moving traffic and could see piles of red and white animal parts and people milling around and it was like a butcher’s section in the food store on every street corner.

Ajahn pointed out that, when you think about it, it’s no different from what’s happening every day, animals are slaughtered for food. This is the reality of our world. All the time, somewhere in the world, maybe at this very moment, large numbers of cows, poultry, fish, goats, pigs are being killed and prepared for human consumption, let’s not delude ourselves. Yes, it’s quite a thought; we just prefer not to think about it and I hadn’t considered it that way. Reassuring to have Ajahn here because before he came I was finding it a bit difficult to accept.

There had been cows (and goats) everywhere in the city. For about a week before Eid, these animals were being taken into the city in lorries, in the back of pick-up trucks or led by farmers walking in from the rural areas. There were cow markets I’d pass through where animals were being sold and all the cows looked the same, white, pale fawn colour with curved vertical horns and that hump on the shoulder. There were cows in every part of the urban area – a farmyard smell of dung and straw. Cows were sitting at the roadside moving the jaw in a chewing motion as the traffic went by; they were in the carpark tethered to railings and street lights; all were being very well looked after and so they were just calmly and quietly sitting and standing around in pairs, usually, in a state of placid contentment. Some had garlands round their necks, painted horns, painted faces with eyes blackened around the edges like theatrical mascara and white and red make-up. It was a bizarre and colourful sight.

But now, of course they were all gone; transformed. No evidence that they’d ever been there, all was forgotten. Instead there were stacks of neatly cut animal parts laid out as if in a supermarket meat department.

At the apartment, the Buddhist event was starting, the group arriving with food offerings, flowers. All quiet, small, neat Thais wearing black and white costumes. There were about 15 people there on the first floor in that apartment in the Gulshan district – where all the foreign residents are and wealthy Bangladesh families. The Thai community in Dhaka is quite small, some business people, employees in hairdresser’s shops, Thai food stores, the Thai embassy staff and all were here to take the five precepts. Jiab is, of course, a Thai Buddhist – not like me, a Western buddhist and still learning how it works. Jiab’s mum and dad were Buddhist and it goes all the way back through her family lineage.

The ceremony took place; chanting, meditation, repetition of each part of the Five Precepts and more chanting. Ajahn gave a short talk about sila in the context of sila samadhi punya. And throughout the whole meeting there was the sound of sawing and banging: boom, boom, bang-bang-bang. At first I thought, what’s going on? Sounds like construction or people hammering things. But, after a while, I realised what it was. When the talk was over and as everyone was leaving I had a quick look out the back window where the noise had been coming from. There were these same heaps of butchered animal parts again. A whole carcass had been cut up here. There were large butchers wooden chopping boards, saws and the sound had been cleavers and small axes chopping and sawing through bones. Just below the window where the Buddhist monk was chanting….

And I don’t see it particularly as a characteristic of the Muslim faith, the same thing happens in all of the supply networks for the food industry; meat production in America and Europe, it’s the same thing. The only difference is that in the West it’s hidden and we’re not usually aware of it.

I’m glad it happened, as it did. Having the Buddhist monk there on that day to create blessings in the midst of everything was quite wonderful for us.