Hunger - Dhammapada 203

Hunger

It was while staying at Aggālava Monastery that the Buddha gave this lesson about a hungry man.

Early one morning, as the Buddha surveyed the world from his Perfumed Chamber at Jetavana Monastery, he saw a poor man in Ālavi. The Buddha became aware that that man was ripe for attaining stream-entry. After daybreak, the Buddha set out from Jetavana with five hundred bhikkhus for Aggālava Monastery.

The poor man heard that the Buddha had arrived, and he was eager to listen to the Dhamma.

Unfortunately, however, his ox had strayed that morning. He thought, “I really want to hear the Buddha teach, but my ox might be in danger. Shall I listen to the Teacher or search for my ox? I will first find my ox and afterwards hear the Dhamma.”

Meanwhile, the people of Ālavi offered food to the Buddha, and, when the meal was over, they took his bowl and waited for him to give anumodana.

“I traveled thirty yojanas to come here for the sake of a certain man,” the Buddha said. “I see that he is not here yet. When he comes, I will speak.”

Without saying anything more, he sat and waited. Of course, the people were also quiet because, when the Teacher is silent, neither gods nor men dare to make a sound.

As the daylight faded, the poor man found his ox, took it back, and tied it up. “It is too late to hear the Dhamma,” he thought, “but I will, at least, pay my respects to the Teacher.” Although he was extremely hungry, he decided to go directly to see the Buddha. He hurried to the hall, paid obeisance to the Buddha, and sat down respectfully at one side.

The Teacher turned to the steward and asked, “Is there any almsfood remaining from the monks’ meal?”

“Yes, Venerable sir, there is.”

“Then serve this man some food.”

The steward gave the poor man some of the leftover rice porridge and curries. After he had eaten and rinsed his mouth, his physical suffering was relieved, and his mind became calm. He sat quietly while the Buddha taught a gradual discourse concluding with the Four Noble Truths. At the end of the discourse, that poor man attained stream entry.

The Buddha offered anumodana, stood up, and left with the bhikkhus.

Some of the bhikkhus were angry and grumbled, “We do not understand what the Teacher did today! When that poor man came in, the Buddha asked whether there was any food leftover and told the steward to serve him. That has never happened before.”

The Buddha stopped, turned around, and asked, “Bhikkhus, what are you talking about?”

They told them, and the Buddha answered, “That’s right, bhikkhus. I came to Alavi, making this difficult journey of thirty yojanas, for the sole purpose of teaching that poor man because I had seen that he was ripe for attaining stream-entry.

Early this morning, that man went to the jungle, where he spent the whole day looking for his lost ox. When he finally came to see me, he had not eaten at all. I knew that, if I were to teach the Dhamma while he was suffering from hunger, he would not have been able to understand it. Therefore, I asked that he be fed. There is no pain like the pain of hunger.” Then he recited this verse:

Hunger is the greatest disease;
Conditioned things are the greatest suffering.

For one who understands this as it really is,

Nibbāna is the greatest bliss.

—Dhammapada 203

Thanks KenVisakha Kawasaki

Buddhist Learning - God in Buddhism

☯ Buddhist Learning: Gods in Buddhism Part 2

Do Buddhists Pray?, Vows, Invocations, and Devotional Activities

Dictionaries define prayer as a request for help or expression of gratitude directed to God, saints, or other godlike beings. Prayer is the central devotional activity of many religions. Since Buddhism is nontheistic -- meaning gods aren't necessary -- do Buddhists pray?

And the answer is, no, but yes, and it depends.

Prayer in the dictionary sense is not a formal part of Buddhism, since it is understood there is no powerful "other" to which prayers are directed. But there are a great many prayer-like activities, such as vows and invocations. And Buddhists also request help and express gratitude all the time. So the first question is, where are these expressions directed?
Gods or No Gods?

There are several kinds of beings in Buddhist scriptures and art who are identified as gods. Many, such as the devas, can be thought of as characters in fables. The devas of scripture live in their own realms and generally don't do anything for humans, so there's no point praying to them even if they were "real."

Tantric deities of Vajrayana Buddhism can be understood as archetypes of our own deepest nature, or they may represent some principle, such as the factors of enlightenment. Sometimes prayers are directed to transcendent buddhas and bodhisattvas, who can be understood as archetypes also.

Sometimes laypeople especially do seem to regard iconic figures as separate beings with their own existence, however, even though this understanding is not consistent with other Buddhist teachings.

So sometimes people who self-identify as Buddhist do pray, although prayer isn't part of what the historical Buddha's taught.

Buddhist Chanting Liturgy

There are several different types of texts that are chanted as part of Buddhist liturgies, and especially in Mahayana Buddhism the chants often are directed to transcendent buddhas and bodhisattvas. For example, Pure Land Buddhists chant the Nianfo (Chinese) or Nembutsu (Japanese) which invoke the name of  Amitabha Buddha. Faith in Amitabha will bring one to rebirth in a Pure Land, a state or place in which enlightenment is easily realized.

Mantras and dharanis are chants valued for their sounds as much as for what they say. These usually brief texts are chanted repeatedly and could be thought of as a kind of meditation with the voice. Often the chants are directed or dedicated to a transcendent buddha or bodhisattva. For example, the Medicine Buddha mantra or longer dharani may be chanted on behalf of someone who is ill.

This begs an obvious question -- if we invoke the name of a buddha or bodhisattva to aid our spiritual quest or heal our friend's sickness, is this not a prayer? Some schools of Buddhism do refer to devotional chanting as a kind of prayer. But even then, it's understood that the purpose of the prayer is not to petition a being" out there" somewhere but to awaken the spiritual strength that is within each of us.

Beads, Flags, Wheels BIG

Buddhists often make use of prayer beads, called "malas," as well as prayer flags and prayer wheels. Here is a brief explanation of each.

Using beads to count repetitions of a mantra probably originated in Hinduism but quickly spread to Buddhism and eventually to many other religions.

Hanging prayer flags in mountain winds is a common practice in Tibetan Buddhism that may have originated in an earlier Tibetan religion called Bon. The flags, usually covered with auspicious symbols and mantras, are not intended to carry petitions to gods but to spread blessings and good fortune to all beings.

Prayer wheels, also associated primarily with Tibetan Buddhism, come in many shapes and forms. Wheels are usually covered in written mantras. Buddhists spin the wheels as they focus on the mantra and dedicate the merit of the act to all beings. In this way, the wheel turning is also a kind of meditation.

Topic

http://relationalbuddhism.org/site/wp-content/uploads/2013/01/2013-Relational-Buddhism-Karma-Transformation-Non-theism.jpg

https://www.learnreligions.com/do-buddhists-pray-449582

The Role of Gods and Deities in Buddhism

Are there Gods, or aren't there?

It is often asked if there are gods in Buddhism. The short answer is no, but also yes, depending on what you mean by "gods."

It also is often asked if it is all right for a Buddhist to believe in God, meaning the creator God as celebrated in Christianity, Judaism, Islam and other philosophies of monotheism. Again, this depends on what you mean by "God." As most monotheists define God, the answer is probably "no." But there are lots of ways to understand the principle of God.

Buddhism is sometimes called an "atheistic" religion, although some of us prefer "non-theistic"--meaning that believing in a God or gods really isn't the point.

But it's certainly the case that there are all kinds of god-like creatures and beings called devas populating the early scriptures of Buddhism. Vajrayana Buddhism still makes use of tantric deities in its esoteric practices. And there are Buddhists who believe devotion to Amitabha Buddha will bring them to rebirth in the Pure Land.

So, how to explain this apparent contradiction?

What Do We Mean by Gods?

Let's start with polytheistic-type gods. In the world's religions, these have been understood in many ways, Most commonly, they are supernatural beings with some kind of agency---they control the weather, for example,  or they might help you win victories. The classic Roman and Greek gods and goddesses are examples.

Practice in a religion based on polytheism mostly consists of practices to cause these gods to intercede on one's behalf. If you deleted them the various gods, there wouldn't be a religion at all.
In traditional Buddhist folk religion, on the other hand, the devas are usually depicted as characters living in a number of other realms, separate from the human realm. They have their own problems and have no roles to play in the human realm. There is no point praying to them even if you believe in them because they're not going to do anything for you.

Whatever sort of existence they may or may not have really doesn't matter to Buddhist practice. Many of the stories told about the devas have allegorical points, but you can be a devoted Buddhist for your whole life and never give them any thought.

The Tantric Deities

Now, let's move on to the tantric deities. In Buddhism, tantra is the use of rituals, symbolism and yoga practices to evoke experiences that enable the realization of enlightenment. The most common practice of Buddhist tantra is to experience oneself as a deity. In this case, then, the deities are more like archetypal symbols than supernatural creatures.

Here's an important point: Buddhist Vajrayana is based on Mahayana Buddhist teaching. And in Mahayana Buddhism, no phenomena have objective or independent existence. Not gods, not you, not your favorite tree, not your toaster (see "Sunyata, or Emptiness"). Things exist in a kind of relative way, taking identity from their function and position relative to other phenomena. But nothing is really separate or independent from everything else.

With this in mind, one can see that the tantric deities can be understood in many different ways. Certainly, there are people who understand them as something like the classic Greek gods--supernatural beings with a separate existence who might help you if you ask. But this is a somewhat unsophisticated understanding that modern Buddhist scholars and teachers have altered in favor of a symbolic, archetypal definition.

Lama Thubten Yeshe wrote,
"Tantric meditational deities should not be confused with what different mythologies and religions might mean when they speak of gods and goddesses. Here, the deity we choose to identify with represents the essential qualities of the fully awakened experience latent within us. To use the language of psychology, such a deity is an archetype of our own deepest nature, our most profound level of consciousness. In tantra we focus our attention on such an archetypal image and identify with it in order to arouse the deepest, most profound aspects of our being and bring them into our present reality." (Introduction to Tantra: A Vision of Totality [1987], p. 42)

Other Mahayana Godlike Beings

Although they may not practice formal tantra, there are tantric elements running through much of Mahayana Buddhism. Iconic beings such as Avalokiteshvara are evoked to bring compassion to the world, yes, but we are her eyes and hands and feet.

The same is true of Amitabha. Some may understand Amitabha as a deity who will take them to paradise (although not forever). Others may understand the Pure Land to be a state of mind and Amitabha as a projection of one's own devotional practice. But believing in one thing or another really isn't the point.

What About God?

Finally, we get to the Big G. What did the Buddha say about him? Well, nothing that I know of. It's possible the Buddha was never exposed to monotheism as we know it. The concept of God as the one and only supreme being, and not just one god among many, was just coming into acceptance among Jewish scholars about the time the Buddha was born. This God concept may not have ever reached him.

However, that doesn't necessarily mean that the God of monotheism, as commonly understood, can be dropped seamlessly into Buddhism. Frankly, in Buddhism, God has nothing to do.
The creation of phenomena is taken care of by a kind of natural law called Dependent Origination. The consequences of our actions are accounted for by karma, which in Buddhism is also a kind of natural law that doesn't require a supernatural cosmic judge.

And if there is a God, he is us, too. His existence would be as dependent and conditioned as ours.

Sometimes Buddhist teachers use the word "God," but their meaning is not something that most monotheists would recognize. They may be referring to the dharmakaya, for example, which the late Chogyam Trungpa described as "the basis of the original unbornness." The word "God" in this context has more in common with the Taoist idea of "the Tao" than with the familiar Judaic/Christian idea of God.

So, you see, the question as to whether there are or are not gods in Buddhism can't really be answered with a yes or no. Again, though, merely believing in Buddhist deities is pointless. How do you understand them? That's what matters.

https://www.learnreligions.com/gods-in-buddhism-449762

The Role of Chanting in Buddhism

When you go to a Buddhist temple, you may encounter people chanting. All schools of Buddhism have some chanted liturgy, although the content of the chants varies widely. The practice may make newcomers uncomfortable. We may come from a religious tradition in which a standard text is recited or sung during a worship service, but we don't often chant. Further, in the West many of us have come to think of liturgy as a pointless vestige of an earlier, more superstitious, time.

If you observe a Buddhist chanting service, you may see people bow or play gongs and drums. Priests may make offerings of incense, food, and flowers to a figure on an altar. The chanting may be in a foreign language, even when everyone attending speaks English. That can seem very strange if you are under the understanding that Buddhism is a nontheistic religious practice. A chanting service can appear to be just as theistic as a Catholic mass unless you understand the practice.

Chanting and Enlightenment

However, once you understand what's going on, you come to see that Buddhist liturgies are not intended to worship a god but to help us realize enlightenment. In Buddhism, enlightenment (bodhi) is defined as awakening from one's delusions—especially the delusions of the ego and a separate self.

This awakening is not intellectual, but rather a change in how we experience and perceive.

Chanting is a method of cultivating mindfulness, a tool for helping you wake up.

Types of Buddhist Chants

There are several different types of texts that are chanted as part of Buddhist liturgies. Here are a few:

⚫ The chant may be all or part of a sutra (also called a sutta). A sutra is a sermon of the Buddha or one of the Buddha's disciples. However, a large body of sutras of Mahayana Buddhism were composed after the Buddha's lifetime. (See also "Buddhist Scriptures: An Overview" for more explanation.)

⚫ The chant can be a mantra—a short sequence of words or syllables, often chanted repetitively, thought to have transformative power. An example of a mantra is om mani padme hum, which is associated with Tibetan Buddhism. Chanting a mantra mindfully can be a form of meditation.

⚫ A dharani is something like a mantra, although usually longer. Dharanis are said to contain the essence of a teaching, and repetitive chanting of a dharani may evoke some beneficial power, such as protection or healing. Chanting a dharani also subtly affects the mind of the chanter. Dharanis usually are chanted in Sanskrit (or some approximation of what Sanskrit sounds like). Sometimes the syllables have no definite meaning; it's the sound that matters.

⚫ A gatha is a short verse to be chanted, sung, or recited. In the West, gathas often have been translated into the language of the chanters. Unlike mantras and dharanis, what gathas say is more important than what they sound like.

Some chants are exclusive to particular schools of Buddhism. The Nianfo (Chinese) or Nembutsu (Japanese) is the practice of chanting the name of Amitabha Buddha, a practice found only in the several Pure Land forms of Buddhism. Nichiren Buddhism is associated with the Daimoku, Nam Myoho Renge Kyo, which is an expression of faith in the Lotus Sutra. Nichiren Buddhists also chant Gongyo, consisting of passages from the Lotus Sutra, as part of their daily formal liturgy.

How to Chant

If you are new to Buddhism, the best advice is to listen carefully to what everyone around you is doing and do that. Pitch your voice to be in unison with most of the other chanters (no group is every completely in unison), copy the volume of the people around you and start chanting.

Chanting as part of a group service is something you are all doing together, so don't just listen to yourself chant. Listen to everyone at once. Be part of one big voice.

You will likely be given the written-out text of the chanting liturgy, with foreign words in English transliteration. (If not, then listen until you catch on.) Treat your chanting book respectfully. Be mindful of how other people are holding their chanting books, and try to copy them.
Translation or Original Language?

As Buddhism moves West, some of the traditional liturgies are being chanted in English or other European languages. But you may find a substantial amount of liturgy is still chanted in an Asian language, even by non-ethnic Asian westerners who don't speak the Asian language. Why is that?
For mantras and dharanis, the sound of the chant is as important, sometimes more important, than the meanings. In some traditions, the sounds are said to be manifestations of the true nature of reality. When chanted with great focus and mindfulness, mantras and dharanis can become a powerful group meditation.

Sutras are another matter, and sometimes the question of whether to chant a translation or not causes some contention. Chanting a sutra in our own language helps us internalize its teaching in a way mere reading cannot. But some groups prefer to use Asian languages, partly for the effect of the sound and partly to maintain a bond with dharma brothers and sisters around the world.

If chanting at first seems meaningless to you, keep an open mind toward doors that may open. Many senior students and teachers say that the thing they found most tedious and foolish when they first began to practice was the very thing that triggered their first awakening experience.

https://www.learnreligions.com/chanting-basic-buddhist-practice-449748

Becoming a Buddhist

Interested in becoming a Buddhist? There's no substitute for participating in a vibrant Buddhist community, but reading about the associated beliefs, texts, meditation, chanting, ritual, and other practices is a good place to start learning.


https://www.learnreligions.com/buddhism-origins-and-development-4684850

The Power of Judgment by Thanissaro Bhikkhu

The Power of Judgment
by Thanissaro Bhikkhu 

When the Buddha told Ananda that the entirety of the practice lies in having an admirable friend, he wasn't saying something warm and reassuring about the compassion of others. He was pointing out three uncomfortable truths — about delusion and trust — that call for clear powers of judgment.

The first truth is that you can't really trust yourself to see through your delusion on your own. When you're deluded, you don't know you're deluded. You need some trustworthy outside help to point it out to you. This is why, when the Buddha advised the Kalamas to know for themselves, one of the things he told them to know for themselves was how wise people would judge their behavior.

When he advised his son, Rahula, to examine his own actions as he would his face in a mirror, he said that if Rahula saw that his actions had caused any harm, he should talk it over with a knowledgeable friend on the path. That way he could learn how to be open with others — and himself — about his mistakes, and at the same time tap into the knowledge that his friend had gained. He wouldn't have to keep reinventing the dharma wheel on his own.

So if you really want to become skillful in your thoughts, words, and deeds, you need a trustworthy friend or teacher to point out your blind spots. And because those spots are blindest around your unskillful habits, the primary duty of a trustworthy friend is to point out your faults — for only when you see your faults can you correct them; only when you correct them are you benefiting from your friend's compassion in pointing them out.

Regard him as one who points out treasure, the wise one who seeing your faults rebukes you. Stay with this sort of sage. For the one who stays with a sage of this sort, things get better, not worse. —

Dhp 76

In passing judgment on your faults, an admirable friend is like a trainer. Once, when a horse trainer came to see the Buddha, the Buddha asked him how he trained his horses. The trainer said that some horses responded to gentle training, others to harsh training, others required both harsh and gentle training, but if a horse didn't respond to either type of training, he'd kill the horse to maintain the reputation of his teachers' lineage. Then the trainer asked the Buddha how he trained his students, and the Buddha replied, "In the same way." Some students responded to gentle criticism, others to harsh criticism, others to a mixture of the two, but if a student didn't respond to either type of criticism, he'd kill the student. This shocked the horse trainer, but then the Buddha explained what he meant by "killing": He wouldn't train the student any further, which essentially killed the student's opportunity to grow in the practice.

So the first prerequisite in maintaining an admirable friend is being willing to take criticism, both gentle and harsh. This is why the Buddha told his disciples not to teach for money, for the person paying is the one who determines what's taught, and people rarely pay for the criticism they need to hear.

But even if the teacher is teaching for free, you run into the Buddha's second uncomfortable truth: You can't open your heart to just anyone. Our powers of judgment really do have power, and because that power can cause long-term help or harm, you have to take care in choosing your friend. Don't fall into the easy trap of being judgmental or non-judgmental — judgmental in trusting your knee-jerk likes or dislikes, non-judgmental in trusting that every dharma teacher would be equally beneficial as a guide. Instead, be judicious in choosing the person whose judgments you're going to take on as your own.

This, of course, sounds like a Catch-22: You need a good teacher to help develop your powers of judgment, but well-developed powers of judgment to recognize who a good teacher might be. And even though there's no foolproof way out of the catch — after all, you can master a foolproof way and still be a fool — there is a way if you're willing to learn from experience. And fortunately the Buddha advised on how to develop your powers of judgment so that you know what to look for along the way. In fact, his recommendations for how to choose an admirable friend are a preliminary exercise in discernment: learning how to develop judicious powers of judgment so that you, too, can become an admirable friend, first to yourself and then to the people around you.

The first step in being judicious is understanding what it means to judge in a helpful way. Think, not of a Supreme Court justice sitting on her bench, passing a final verdict of guilt or innocence, but of a piano teacher listening to you play. She's not passing a final verdict on your potential as a pianist.

Instead, she's judging a work in progress: listening to your intention for the performance, listening to your execution of that intention, and then deciding whether it works. If it doesn't, she has to figure out if the problem is with the intention or the execution, make helpful suggestions, and then let you try again. She keeps this up until she's satisfied with your performance. The important principle is that she never directs her judgments at you as a person. Instead she has to stay focused on your actions, to keep looking for better ways to raise them to higher and higher standards.

At the same time, you're learning from her how to judge your own playing: thinking more carefully about your intention, listening more carefully to your execution, developing higher standards for what works, and learning to think outside of the box for ways to improve. Most important of all, you're learning to focus your judgment on your performance, and not on yourself. This way — when there's less you invested in your habits — you're more willing to recognize unskillful habits and to drop them in favor of more skillful ones.

Of course, when you and your teacher are judging your improvement on a particular piece, it's part of a longer process of judging how well the relationship is working. She has to judge, over time, if you're benefiting from her guidance, and so do you. But again, neither of you is judging the worth of the other person. She's simply deciding — based on your progress — whether it's worth her while to continue taking you on as a student. You're judging the extent to which her recommendations are actually helping you perform more effectively. If either of you decides to terminate the relationship, it shouldn't be because she's a bad teacher or you're a bad student, but simply that she's not the teacher for you, or you're not the student for her.

In the same way, when you're evaluating a potential dharma teacher, remember that there's no Final Judgment in Buddhism. You want someone who will evaluate your actions as a work in progress, and you have to apply the same standard to him or her. And you're not trying to take on the superhuman role of evaluating that person's essential worth. You're simply judging whether his or her actions embody the kinds of skills you'd like to develop, and the types of mental qualities — which are also a kind of action — that you'd trust in a trainer or guide. After all, the only way we know anything about other people is through their actions, so that's as far as our judgments can fairly extend.

At the same time, though, because we're judging whether we want to internalize another person's standards, it's not unfair to pass judgment on what they're doing. It's for our own protection. And it's for the sake of our protection that the Buddha recommended looking for two qualities in a teacher: wisdom and integrity. To gauge these qualities, though, takes time and sensitivity, which is why the Buddha also advised that you be willing to spend time with the person, and try to be really observant of how that person acts.

Once, when King Pasenadi came to see the Buddha, a group of naked ascetics passed nearby. The king went over, got down on one knee, and offered them homage. Then he returned to the Buddha and asked, "Are those ascetics worthy of homage?" The Buddha replied that you could fairly answer that question only after having spent time with them, and only if you were really observant. The king praised the Buddha's caution, and added, "Those men are actually my spies. They're on the way back from having scouted out the enemy, and soon — after bathing and clothing themselves — they'll be back enjoying themselves with their wives." So you can't judge people just by first impressions. The appearance of wisdom is easy to fake. In the past, people were impressed by extreme austerities; at present, the ads for dharma books and retreats show that we're attracted to other surface criteria, but the principle is the same.

To save time and needless pain in the search, however, the Buddha noted four early warning signs indicating that potential teachers don't have the wisdom or integrity to merit your trust. The warning signs for untrustworthy wisdom are two. The first is when people show no gratitude for the help they've received — and this applies especially to help from their parents and teachers. People with no gratitude don't appreciate goodness, don't value the effort that goes into being helpful, and so will probably not put out that effort themselves. The second warning sign is that they don't hold to the principle of karma. They either deny that we have freedom of choice, or else teach that one person can clear away another person's bad karma from the past. People of this sort are unlikely to put forth the effort to be genuinely skillful, and so are untrustworthy guides.

Lack of integrity also has two warning signs. The first is when people feel no shame in telling a deliberate lie. As the Buddha once said, "There's no evil that such a person might not do." The second warning sign is when they don't conduct arguments in a fair and aboveboard manner: misrepresenting their opponents, pouncing on the other side's minor lapses, not acknowledging the valid points the other side has made. People of this sort, the Buddha said, aren't even worth talking to, much less taking on as teachers.

As for people who don't display these early warning signs, the Buddha gave advice on how to gauge wisdom and integrity in their actions over time. One question he'd have you ask yourself is whether a teacher's actions betray any of the greed, anger, or delusion that would inspire him to claim knowledge of something he didn't know, or to tell another person to do something that was not in that person's best interests. To test for a teacher's wisdom, the Buddha advised noticing how a potential teacher responds to questions about what's skillful and not, and how well he or she handles adversity. To test for integrity, you look for virtue in day-to-day activities, and purity in the teacher's dealings with others. Does this person make excuses for breaking the precepts, bringing them down to his level of behavior rather than lifting his behavior to theirs? Does he take unfair advantage of other people? If so, you'd better find another teacher.

This, however, is where the Buddha's third uncomfortable truth comes in: You can't be a fair judge of another person's integrity until you've developed some of your own. This is probably the most uncomfortable truth of all, for it requires that you accept responsibility for your judgments. If you want to test other people's potential for good guidance, you have to pass a few tests yourself. Again, it's like listening to a pianist. The better you are as a pianist, the better your ability to judge the other person's playing.

Fortunately, the Buddha also gave guidance on how to develop integrity, and it doesn't require that you start out innately good. All it requires is a measure of truthfulness and maturity: the realization that your actions make all the difference in your life, so you have to take care in how you act; the willingness to admit your mistakes, both to yourself and to others; and the willingness to learn from your mistakes so you don't keep repeating them. As the Buddha taught Rahula, before you act in thought, word, or deed, look at the results you expect from your action. If it's going to harm you or anyone else, don't do it. If you don't foresee any harm, go ahead and act. While you're acting, check to see if you're causing any unforeseen harm. If you are, stop. If not, continue until you're done. After you're done, look at the long-term results of your action. If it caused any harm, talk it over with someone else on the path, develop a sense of shame around the mistake, and resolve not to repeat it. If it caused no harm, take joy in the fact and keep on training.

As you train yourself in this way, you learn four important principles about exercising judgment in a healthy way. First, you're judging your actions, not yourself. If you can learn to separate your sense of self from your actions, you tend to be more willing to admit your mistakes to yourself, and less defensive when other people point them out to you. This principle also applies to the sense of shame the Buddha recommends you feel toward your mistakes. It's directed not at you, but at the action — the sort of shame felt by a person of high self-esteem who's realized she's done something beneath her and doesn't want to do it again. Shame of this sort is not debilitating. It simply helps you remember the lesson you've learned.

This relates to the second important principle about healthy judgment, that it requires mindfulness in the original meaning of the term: keeping something in mind. Mindfulness of this sort is essential in developing your judgment, for it helps you remember the lessons you've learned over time as to what works and what doesn't. Because we often try our best to forget our mistakes, we have to train our mindfulness repeatedly to remember the lessons we learned from those mistakes so that we don't have to keep learning them over and over again.

Sometimes you hear mindfulness defined as a non-judging state of mind, but that's not how the Buddha understood it. He often compared mindfulness to a gatekeeper in the way it helps you judge what should and shouldn't be done:

"Just as the royal frontier fortress has a gatekeeper — wise, experienced, intelligent — to keep out those he doesn't know and to let in those he does, for the protection of those within and to ward off those without; in the same way a disciple of the noble ones is mindful, highly meticulous, remembering & able to call to mind even things that were done & said long ago. With mindfulness as his gatekeeper, the disciple of the noble ones abandons what is unskillful, develops what is skillful, abandons what is blameworthy, develops what is blameless, and looks after himself with purity."

                                                                        —AN 7.36

So mindfulness actually plays an essential role in developing your powers of judgment.

As you keep trying to apply the lessons you've learned, you discover the third principle about healthy judgment: that the lessons you learn from your mistakes, if you act on them, really do make a difference. The present moment is not so arbitrarily new that lessons from yesterday are useless today. You may keep finding new subtleties in how to apply past lessons, but the general outlines of how suffering is caused and how it can be ended always remain the same.

The fourth principle is that you learn how to benefit from the judgments of others. When you've chosen a person to confide in, you want to be open to that person's criticisms, but you also want to put his or her suggestions for improvement to the test. As the Buddha told his aunt, Gotami, you can test genuine dharma by seeing the results it gives when put it into action. If it leads to such admirable qualities as being dispassionate, modest, content, energetic, and unburdensome, it's the genuine thing. The person who teaches you this dharma has passed at least that test for being a genuine friend. And you're learning more and more how to judge for yourself.

Some people might object that it's selfish to focus on finding friends you can benefit from, and inhumane to keep testing people to see if they fit the bill. But that's missing the point. The benefits that come from this sort of friendship don't end with you; and in testing your friend you're also testing yourself. As you assimilate the qualities of an admirable friend, you become the sort of person who can offer admirable friendship to others. Again, it's like practicing under a good piano teacher. As you improve as a pianist, you're not the only one who can enjoy your playing. The better you get, the more joy you bring to others. The better you understand the process of playing, the more effectively you can teach anyone who sincerely wants to learn from you. This is how teaching lineages of high caliber get established for the benefit of the world.

So when you look for an admirable friend, you're tapping into a long lineage of admirable friends, stretching back to the Buddha, and helping it to extend into the future. Joining this lineage may require accepting some uncomfortable truths, such as the need to learn from criticism and to take responsibility for your actions. But if you're up for the challenge, you learn to take this human power of judgment — which, when untrained, can so easily cause harm — and train it for the greater good.

©2011 Thanissaro Bhikkhu.



http://www.accesstoinsight.org/lib/authors/thanissaro/power_of_judgment.html.

Living a Dhamma a day Our dark nights

Living a Dhamma a day
Our dark nights

Dark night phase are stages in our life where we witnessed, experienced suffering, doubts, temptations, depression, stressed, despair. From pain, questions arise and changes begin. Dukkha is samsara but dukkha is also the beginning of its end, because majorities this is our first entry into the Dhamma.

The Buddha’s first dark nights phase is seeing the 3 messengers : sickness, old age and death. That lead him to question the existence of life and seek answers. We, too have seen these messengers in our life. Some of us dark nights are extreme because of the conditions we grew up in or genetically prone.

Interestingly, in one sutta, the Upanisa the “ aging-death “ in the 12 link is replaced with suffering. From this factor emerged faith.  For example, in seeking answers out of our dark nights, we may find therapy that temporarily fix our issues but we also seek answers of existence. Along the way we meet the right kind of friends and faith of the Dhamma rises.

Emerge out of faith is the joy or happiness of second jhana and so begins the transcendent arising link ending with nibana.

"Just as, monks, when rain descends heavily upon some mountaintop, the water flows down along with the slope, and fills the clefts, gullies, and creeks; these being filled fill up the pools; these being filled fill up the ponds; these being filled fill up the streams; these being filled fill up the rivers; and the rivers being filled fill up the great ocean — in the same way, monks, ignorance is the supporting condition for kamma formations, kamma formations are the supporting condition for consciousness (12 forward link)....birth is the supporting condition for suffering, suffering is the supporting condition for faith, faith is the supporting condition for joy, joy is the supporting condition for rapture, rapture is the supporting condition for tranquillity, tranquillity is the supporting condition for happiness, happiness is the supporting condition for concentration, concentration is the supporting condition for the knowledge and vision of things as they really are, the knowledge and vision of things as they really are is the supporting condition for disenchantment, disenchantment is the supporting condition for dispassion, dispassion is the supporting condition for emancipation, and emancipation is the supporting condition for the knowledge of the destruction (of the cankers)."

https://www.accesstoinsight.org/lib/authors/bodhi/wheel277.html




The Buddha is ruthlessly honest. This passage meant, from ignorance we suffer. At the same time, from suffering, comes released and freedom. The passage also implied that we won’t seek the path unless we suffer enough! Just as the pond won’t overflow until it is filled up first.

"New Beginnings are often disguised as Painful Endings." -Lao Tzu

FREE YOUR SELF by Kumara Bhikkhu

FREE YOUR SELFby Kumara Bhikkhu

Walk the Noble 8-fold Path to comprehend your suffering, abandon its origin and BE FREE!

Many people want to be free from suffering. What about you ?

Surely anyone with some sanity wishes to be free. However many Buddhists, even some long time meditators, aren’t making any progress.
Some even become worse. Why ? The answer is simple: They have not done it right. And why is that ?
As I see it, it’s only because of not understanding the Buddha’s teaching well enough.

Here are some things that people usually miss out.

1.  Suffering is to be comprehended

Suffering is to be comprehended. This is what the Buddha instructed in Dhammacakkappavattana Sutta. When we meet with suffering, what do we normally do ?
What do you normally do ?
Understand it ?
Try hard to get rid of it?
Get busy with work ?
Look for distractions ?
Sleep ?

If freedom from suffering is what we want, then we need to understand suffering thoroughly:
What is suffering ?
How does it arise ?
Only when we have enough understanding of it can its origin or cause be abandoned.
When that is abandoned, then there is no condition for the suffering to arise.

2. Right Knowledge

To comprehend suffering we need to observe it directly.
But before we do that, we need right knowledge or understanding:
All phenomena is just nature. Suffering is also a natural phenomenon.
It arises because it has to, because the conditions are there for it to arise.
So long the conditions are there for a certain kind of suffering to arise,
so long that suffering arises. So, it’s a matter of cause and effect, it’s not personal.
When we take suffering personally—I am suffering, this is my suffering—
already defilements are at work, delusion in particular.
With such I-dentifying with suffering, we would naturally react to it in unwise ways:
resisting, clinging, ignoring. In reacting to suffering in these ways, suffering persists and grows.
Therefore, we need to check if we have this right understanding.
Only when there is right understanding can we observe suffering objectively.

3. Right Motivation

Another way to check whether we are doing it right is to look at our motivation.
Are we observing to get rid of the unpleasant experience ?
Are we trying to control our experience ?
If we truly understand that suffering is not personal,
but a natural phenomenon arising due to conditions,
we would not have these wrong motivations.
Nonetheless, habit is habit. We tend to cling to our old patterns of coping with suffering.
These habitual ways of coping make things more complicated.
So, we need to watch them first.
And remember, habits too are natural phenomena arising due to conditions.
They are not personal.
Right Release through Knowing and Seeing
Earlier I asked: How does suffering arise ?
If you have heard or read some Dhamma,
you would have the theoretical knowledge that suffering originates from craving.
Yes, that knowledge is important, but for the sake of freedom, that is not enough.
We need direct knowledge.
In other words, we need to see craving in action, how it creates suffering.
This is different from thinking about it, or trying to figure things out.
To understand suffering fully, we need to step out of the story of “my suffering”,
so that we can have an overview of what’s happening.
We need to train ourselves in proper awareness.
Proper here means it is :

• full (inclusive, not rejecting anything, seeing the big picture,
not absorbed or lost in thoughts),

• self-directed,

• kind and gentle (not forcing, not trying to control what we experience,
not trying to get something or get rid of something),
and

• wise (intelligent, circumspect, intuitive, direct, stepping back from the stories in the mind).
Take note that not being absorbed or lost in thoughts does not mean trying to get rid of thoughts.
Thinking happens, just as seeing, hearing and feeling. It’s not a problem.
We need right thinking to practise well.
On the other hand, when we’re lost in any kind of thinking,
the thinking comes from a confused state.
We can’t have proper awareness that way.
As we train the mind in proper awareness,
it grows in its ability to know and see things as how they actually happen.
As the mind watches our experiences—seeing, hearing, sensing, and cognising—
without getting involved with the stories that the mind creates out of what is seen,
heard, sensed or cognised; it learns very well intuitively.
Then wisdom grows. When the mind has understood enough,
then only is there the wisdom to end the suffering.

Ending suffering is not our job.
If we can end suffering as we like,
then life would be a breeze, wouldn’t it ?
And we wouldn’t need a Buddha to teach us, would we ?
Ending suffering is the job of wisdom.
What then is our job ?
To provide causes for wisdom to grow.
So, to end suffering, we need to cultivate wisdom by being aware of our experiences in the proper way.
For right here is where suffering arises,
and so right here is where we need to pay attention.

Conclusion

To conclude,
if we want to work towards freedom from suffering,
we need to make sure that we have the right information.
What I’ve provided here are merely pointers-
pointers to some aspects of the Buddha’s teaching that people usually miss.
With these pointers, may you be able to walk the path properly for the sake of freedom from suffering.

The Happiness of a Beautiful Mind 喜滿禪心- 幸福來自美麗的心 燃燈禪師 (Sayalay Dīpaṅkara)

The Happiness of a Beautiful Mind喜滿禪心- 幸福來自美麗的心燃燈禪師(Sayalay Dīpaṅkara)

Here, Sayalay emphasized the importance of the practice of loving-kindness, both to oneself and others, as a crucial support for the practice of sīla, samādhi and paññā. She gave examples of how loving- kindness supports oneself to practise peacefully in a meditation retreat, and how it can be used as a basis for samatha and vipassanā. She also explained the importance of balancing loving-kindness with equanimity, especially in our daily lives.

Loving-kindness

Today I would like to explain what is mettā or loving-kindness. Many have heard this talk before but we have new meditators today. It is also good to practise again and again.
Loving-kindness meditation is very important. The Buddha taught many different kinds of meditation objects for concentration.

sīla, samādhi and paññā

In the Buddhasāsana the practice of sīla, samādhi and paññā are very important. bhikkhu, bhikkhuṇī and sayalay continue to this day and they have their own precepts to keep by the teachings of The Buddha.

Keeping precepts is also very important for lay people. We keep eight precepts here. Keeping the eight precepts is very important. However, if you have any physical or medical problem you can take the five precepts instead of the eight precepts. At the least, as meditators we need to keep five precepts.

Knowing the meaning of the precepts is very important. The first precept which we must try to keep, is to abstain from killing, even insects and all living beings.

The second precept is to abstain from stealing. The third precept is to abstain from sexual misconduct and the fourth precept is to abstain from telling lies. The fifth precept is to abstain from drinking alcohol which is an intoxicant.

In this meditation retreat smoking is also disallowed. These five precepts are very important.

The sixth precept is to abstain from solid food, fruits included, after the noon hour. We can drink fruit juice or certain kinds of herbal drinks, milk is not used in the making of drinks like milo or coffee These are made daily and in accordance with the method as laid down by The Buddha. Dinner is also not served. Sorry about that but I want you to keep this precept. If you are ill or unwell you may drink milk or take food as medicine.

The seventh precept is to abstain from listening to music and singing. Do not follow the loud music coming in from the village. And if you are unable to concentrate do not start to sing in your head, because it is not good for your precepts. We also need to abstain from adorning the body.

The eighth precept is to abstain from sleeping on high and luxurious beds. Beds for sleeping should not be more than twenty-seven inches high; in The Buddha’s time a cotton mattress is considered too comfortable and too soft. Here at the vihāra we use a simple mattress.

The practice of mettā or loving-kindness is the ninth precept.

Everyday when you practise loving-kindness meditation, when you send mettā to yourself or to all beings you are practising the ninth precept.

mettā before samatha and vipassanā

The Buddha taught loving-kindness meditation for the practice of concentration and also for the practice of vipassanā, all these practices are in the framework of sīla, samādhi and paññā.
It is not easy to keep the five precepts without mettā and compassion to all beings. Without mettā to yourself, it is also very difficult to keep the precepts.

When you are kind to yourself and know how to take care and love yourself, you will also take care of your kamma.

If you love yourself, then you want to practise, you want to train your mind to be good. It is simple, very simple yet complicated. As it is important to practise sīla, mettā is also very important.

You may already know that there are forty meditation objects in the practice for concentration or samādhi.

The practice of the four brahma vihāra refers to the practice of mettā, karuṇā, muditā and upekkhā, i.e. loving-kindness, compassion, appreciative joy and equanimity.

In the practice of loving-kindness, The Buddha taught us, as a first step to send mettā to the four types of persons. The first type of person we send mettā to is ourselves. We need to practise until peaceful feeling arises, until we get mettā feeling in our heart, from our mind, from our intention.

This is very important. This is the reason why we need to take care of ourselves.

The second type of person we send mettā to at the beginning, is to someone of the same gender whom we respect. We think of the person- and then send mettā to the person. This second type of person can also refer to a few persons or a group of people we really respect.

The third type of person is the neutral person. These are persons that are neither our friends nor our enemies. The fourth type of person is the enemy. Or we may call them unfriendly persons.

So, beginning the practice with ourselves, we send mettā to ourselves as a protection. It is very important, as we need to have a peaceful mind and a healthy body.

How then do we give ourselves this peaceful mind, free from mental suffering, free from danger?

We need to understand the meaning of the words and the intention, not just ‘going through the ritual’ of chanting, “May I be free from danger...may I be free from danger...” Repeating the words alone will not give you the feeling of peace, the freedom from mental suffering or from danger. You need a contemplative mind, to be able to feel the peace and freedom from mental suffering.


Happy or Unhappy

From the time we are delivered from our mother’s womb, life is either happy or unhappy. We call the unhappy time ‘suffering’, do we call the happy time ‘suffering’? Do we think we are suffering when we are happy? Do we think this way? When life is good and comfortable, we forget about suffering.
But The Buddha taught otherwise. Rebirth means either human birth, or existence in some other realm. With life comes rebirth, ageing and death. This we call life. We go from one lifetime to another.

Rebirth, ageing and death- all are suffering. Being happy or not happy is later. Suffering is when you have body and mind.

Sometimes you feel happy, other times unhappy. When you are unhappy, you contemplate there is so much pain in your body and mind. When you feel life is suffering, you want to be free from suffering. When times are good, you are happy, you will forget about yourself and about your life, and think that ‘everything is ok’
.
That is why The Buddha taught that even when there is happiness, you need to practise vipassanā. You need to contemplate that happiness is also impermanent, that it cannot last.

Happiness after a while will also disappear. Happiness forever is very difficult to find. So, whether happy or unhappy, but mostly during time of suffering, we want to be free from suffering.

We do not want a difficult suffering body or a suffering mind. We want to be free from mental and physical suffering. We want to be happy, to have a good life, to be free from danger. This is the reason we need to take care of our mind. With understanding and intention, we want to protect ourselves.

The intention to take care, to want to be free from danger, we call that the sending of mettā. The intention to send mettā, it is done not only when you are sitting, not only during meditation, and not only in the hall. Where else do you go to practise? The answer is everywhere. Everywhere- in the room, in the meditation hall, the walking paths, inside and outside the compound, dining hall- you practise mettā. Everywhere you go it is better to have a contemplating mind.

Except if you are contemplating on the breath, otherwise try to do mettā. If you know how to contemplate, you can also join the practice of mettā and breathing together.

Is it not good and safe if you can do that? Isn’t it good to be free from danger and mental suffering? But it is important that we have pure intention.