First up, Buddhist ethics. Like all forms of organised spirituality or religiosity, Buddhism comes with
a ready-made package of behavioural do's and don'ts. True to form, it is softer than its monotheistic equivalents, presenting precepts or guidelines, rather than rules and commandments (this is not strictly true, since you can get chucked out of monkhood for breaking certain precepts, I believe - and if that ain't rules and regs, I don't know what is). Nevertheless, the main approach is providing guidelines: this is how an enlightened being would behave naturally, the theory goes, so by adopting these styles, you will draw closer to Buddhahood.That's all OK, I suppose. But I don't think, in general terms at least, I needed the ethics of Buddhism. I was already a reasonably decent person with an instinctive behavioural code in place before I came across organised Buddhism. Buddhism could theorise more comprehensively than me about why sila (the Sanskrit for morality) should be practiced, but I can't say this impinged upon my being very much. The practice of ethics Buddhist-style did not bring me much closer to Buddha. In fact, the main effect of taking Buddhist ethical proscription seriously was that it made the area of sexuality even more complicated and precarious than it already was.
Second, I've got study. We did plenty of studying of various Buddhist texts, along with a smattering of other books and poems that were reckoned to shed light upon the path towards Enlightenment. In my earlier days of Buddhism, in particular, we also spent many hours listening to lectures recorded on tape delivered by our teacher, explaining and amplifying on a wide range of Buddhist and Buddhist-related topics.
A few things stand out, moments that really jolted me. One such was my teacher's seminar on the 'Greater Mandala of Aesthetic Appreciation', or uselessness. The world does not exist primarily to be used: it is there to be appreciated, enjoyed for what it is. It is as it is. This is Wisdom, a profound non-utilitarianism. This I found most revealing and it speaks bucketloads to me to this day. Buddhism is often pretty good on conceptual clarity (one of its attributes that initially attracted me), and some of its concepts remain helpful in giving voice and shape to felt experience.
However, the majority of study that I undertook, including that which I 'led', sometimes laughably, had very little impact on me, my current depth-charge of honesty reveals. An awful lot failed to speak to me. At best there was some exercise of the intellectual faculty. But quite a lot was high on the scale of tedium. At worst, it was confusing, frustrating, enraging.
I recall one seminar held by my former teacher. I should express gratitude for being invited, but I suspect my invitation was based largely on my being local friendly bigwig at the time. It was on a book called 'Forest Monks of Sri Lanka'. Though in some respects a maverick, my teacher was always keen to find validation for his particular approach within the wider Buddhist tradition, and to find parallels therein. There were apparently echoes of our own style within the activities of these Forest Monks. We students would read a chapter in the morning, then convene in groups to come up with earnest intelligent questions to fire at our teacher during the evening session. This really was one of the most tedious little periods of my life to date. I had as much in common with these Forest Monks of Sri Lanka as I did with alien invaders from some outer galaxy. After a number of days of fruitless head scratching, I eventually came up with a question that I found interesting. It was about inner fire or something, a footnote to the main meat of the seminar, about lifestyles and organisation among the Forest Monks. 'I have dealt with this subject in another seminar' was my teacher's curt reply to my futile attempt at personal engagement. 'Next question please.'
I recently engaged in a full-scale scramble around in dusty boxes in the garage to see if my copy of this noble tome was still around. Nowhere to be seen. In a fit of blasphemy, I must have chucked it out somewhere along the line. I was mortified. I had checked it on Amazon, and copies are nowadays worth a pretty penny.
The final bit (for now, at any rate) that current reflection suggests was not personally up to what it was supposed to be concerns work. The particular Buddhist organisation I participated in was big on work - in the 1970s and 1980s especially, when my involvement was at its height. The rationale was well-formed. Work got your energies going. Work for the organisation (which is what we are mainly talking about here) was a positive action, helping other people to get going on the Buddhist path, and helping to create a better society. Work involved co-operating with others, learning to communicate creatively. Work was, in sum, the Boddhisatva spirit in operation. You couldn't ask for more than that, could you?
Working with like-minded people; helping to create a better world: this was what my pre-Buddhist life had been about, when I lived in a commune. I should have been in paradise. But I often wasn't....
When I first moved to London to practice Buddhism, my mind was very clear. I was going to find a part-time job, earning enough for survival, then devote the remainder of my time and energy to meditating and studying the Buddhist texts. I was up for Enlightenment, and this was the way to go about it, I had concluded. Some people thought otherwise. A short time after moving into Buddhist community in Archway, north London, I was approached by one of my fellow community members and new-found buddies. He had just started a wholefood business, selling healthy foodstuffs on market stalls and with a basement stockroom away in east London beneath the 'under construction' big new Buddhist centre over there. Did I want to go and have a look? I said 'yes'; and the rest, as they say, is history. Before I knew it, most of my waking hours were being spent packing peanuts into bags and plying our health-giving wares in Brick Lane and other London markets at weekends. I was so good at this work stuff that, as related in a previous post, within three years I was chairing the West London Buddhist Centre.
Why, when I look back, does it seem (not in black and white, but on balance) so unsatisfying? I was living the dream, wasn't I? Some of the 'work is good' rhetoric didn't wash: 'getting my energies going through work' was one. I had come into Buddhism fresh out of fifty- and sixty-hour weeks in warehouses and delivering mail during my commune days. The vital difference was that, during that phase, I was putting into practice a dream that came from (or flowed through) me. It was personal and universal in equal measure. Now, it seems, I had signed onto someone else's dream. I wanted to do Buddhism, but how to go about it was being dictated to me by others who, I was informed, were more 'experienced' and knew better. I learnt the art of giving people the benefit of the doubt, a pernicious mindset to fall into. It was no longer my dream; I had given it all away - or a good dose of it, anyway.That moment when I allowed myself to be diverted from my path into the 'building a Buddhist movement' was critical. That is the seminal snapshot of experience which I feel is the precise node of personal growth for the future. I don't want my 'soul' to have to go down that route again; the route of 'giving it away' in the mistaken belief that I 'getting it'. What do I require to ignite within the core of my being to avoid the endless repetition that accompanies lessons unlearnt? The answer, it has been emerging of late, is simple, though hard to practice. It is simply a matter of connection to the path. Stay connected and things cannot go far off-course. Remain true to heart and instinct; engage with others fully, intensively, but don't give your dream away.
It was balm to my soul, and a sure sign that I was on track, when I emerged from organised Buddhism and began to discover folk like Neil Kramer, uncompromisingly emphasising personal uniqueness and authenticity, listening to the voices within, finding your own way on the sacred path.
I find it fascinating that all three 'not very useful practices' I have described here are employed in distorted form by the perpetrators of darkness in our world as means of control. 'Ethics', codes of morality, can become ways to make people afraid, submissive, easily manipulated. The notion of 'Study' can be distorted into ideology, belief systems and media brainwashing. Work can be used as a means of exploitation, keeping people in the state of slavery to a heartless system for all their lives. There are always these tendencies, subtle though they may be.
In the end, the Buddhist trip was just getting in the way. What started off as a passport to liberation became a yolk around the neck. I feel that I was offered a very basic, 'exoteric' path, which led so far and then hit a brick wall. My sense of the magical, the mystical, the multidimensional magnificence of living was left unassuaged. Some of my Buddhist friends and former colleagues have attempted a resolution by going Tibetan, but the complex system of grades of initiation, ritual etc isn't for me. Others have gone into focussed non-duality, no-self stuff. In my view, this has its not-inconsiderable value, but leaves me wanting for the truly mystical, noumenous way. It is one part of the jigsaw only. In the meantime, I feel that I have come back home.
Let's finish with Acharya S., one of the voices of inspiration, courage, and uncommon common sense that has spoken to me out of the jungle of nonsense. "To truly 'get' Buddhism, one needs to become a Buddha, and a Buddha is a free agent not belonging to any particular group, cult, or religion, not separate from 'God', and not ascribing to ritual and rote, except that which moves her/him in her/his autonomy." (In 'Is Buddhism all it's cracked up to be?'). Thanks, Acharya.
Images:
The Tower, Thoth Tarot. The terrifying magnificence of collapse. for example of preconceptions about reality. The destructive aspect of change.
Guru Rinpoche Padmasambhava. The all-penetrating eye that seeks out every tiny speck of bullshit. Courtesy of ChinaBuddhismEncyclopedia.
