Tea & Dharma…
There is a story in the Buddhist canon, in which Buddha Sakyamuni was with the monks in what was called “the Assembly of the Lotus of the True Way”. After being entreated several times to preach by Sariputra, Buddha Sakyamuni said that the Dharma could never be understood by thought or intellect, so how could he teach?
To be certain, there are volumes of Buddhist texts, commentaries and histories written. And these can satisfy the intellectual curiosity or hunger for academic understanding. These are doubtless wholesome pursuits. But they remain unnecessary.
In my 29 years as a Buddhist monk, I spent much time, at the instruction of my teachers, learning various rituals, reciting rote texts, performing specific pujas, and engaging in classic Tibetan debate. These exercises strengthened and sharpened my understanding of the basis and foundation of the Buddhist tradition. But they were not, in themselves, responsible for my development as a student of the Dharma.
Only by reaching a point at which I recognised that the Dharma was nothing to attain… that there was no need for thought, discrimination, ritual or study. These things were simply the disciplines that would engender a more receptive and willing student.
This evening, I had the pleasure of sharing a cup of tea with a visiting monk from another tradition. I was embarrassed a bit to offer such a wise and generous old sage a seat in the midst of the disarray of the hermitage, as I prepare to move a few days from now. Because of the hour, I offered him tea, sweetened with sugar, because I was already out of honey. And we sat, talking about the Contemplative Order of Compassion, and particularly about the monastic element — the Contemplative Monks of the Eightfold Path.
“You know,” the gentle Ajahn commented, after a period of simply sitting and enjoying the silence, “You are really not a good Buddhist monk.”
I pranaamed to him and smiled, and said, “Thank you, Teacher.”
He continued, “You teach no doctrine to your monastic students, you do not follow the monastic rule to the letter, and you encourage your monks to work, so that they can provide for the poor, the sick and the dying… In our country, the monks are the poorest of the poor. They remain in the monastery, except for the prescribed times, when they make themselves available for someone to offer them food. They are good monks.”
I simply nodded, and smiled warmly. “You are right, my dear Brother.”
“Why do you not defend the honour of your order?” he asked, this time smiling a bit broadly.
“There is nothing to defend, my Teacher,” I replied, “We are indeed, bad Buddhists, if we deserve to be called Buddhist at all.”
“What then are you?” my Master-along-the-Path inquired.
“We are contemplative monks, who seek to live our lives in accordance with the Dharma, to serve all sentient beings, and to commit ourselves to return countless lives over, until suffering exists no more. We apply this teaching right where we are — regardless of our sexual orientation, regardless of our relational status, regardless of our position in life… because in the end, we are insubstantial, impermanent and empty.”
“You are empty,” he repeated, “therefore you cannot be good Buddhists… because how could you be something which does not exist, when you yourself are empty.”
I was speechless. It was the first time a monk from that particular tradition seemed to understand the difference in our outward expression and interpretation of the traditions, yet saw that we followed the Dharma no less. The experience nearly brought me to tears.
“What are your plans for service in the future?” my Teacher asked me.
“Well, we hope to establish Dharma Centres and Social Justice Centres in Washington, D.C. and Harrisburg,” I explained, “My inspiration is the work of His Eminence Tsem Tulku Rinpoche, and the tremendous efforts of Michael Daube, the cousin of the man with whom I now share my life and heart.”
Bikkhu Ajhan nodded. He was familiar with the work of Michael Daube’s Citta Foundation in India. He also knew of Rinpoche, and said that I should visit Rinpoche next year, because things are about to “shift dramatically” for me and my work.
We talked about taking thought and judgment out of the equations of our lives. I told him that once I realised the need for this, I found myself in love with this wonderful young man, and without judging, analysing or thinking about it, agreed to share my life with him, and help him further his own Dharma realisation.
It was an interesting night. Craig called me during his visit, and realising the time, the Visitor decided that he too must be heading back into town. Before he left, he gave me the greatest two gifts I could ever have received: the first was a simple, sandalwood mala (prayer beads), which he had used for many years. In return, I asked him to accept my own mala, which had become rather worn over the years, and were a gift from my Refuge Guru, Swami Abishektananda-ji. The second gift, however, was one I could never match, as he said, “I saw the love you have for your partner, Craig… yet, I see and experience that same love from you myself; therefore, you have learned to love without attachment. You are in love with Craig, yet you are in love with all beings as well. You cannot be a good Buddhist, because you are already Love. I bow to you, a Buddha-to-Be.”
All I could do was to pranaam to his Lotus Feet, and touch the bottom of his robe to my forehead.
As I walked him to the door, we broke another of the vinaya rules, and instead of the traditional embrace, he permitted me a “Western hug” and then we bowed to one another, and parted ways in silence.
It took me four hours to be able to find these words to attempt to express the gratitude for the encounter, and the kindness of his words of affirmation.
Henry David Thoreau wrote, “In accumulating property for ourselves or our posterity, in founding a family or estate, or acquiring fame even, we are mortal; but in dealing with truth we are immortal, and need fear no change nor accident… That time which we really improve, or which is improvable, is neither past, present, nor future.”
Just as the fog often obscures the beauty of the peaceful morning lake, sometimes the phenomena around us can obscure from view the wonder that awaits us. To paraphrase Elizabeth Barrett Browning, “Earth’s filled with the Sacred and every common bush afire with the Divine. But only he who sees takes off his shoes…”
One of the questions that frequently comes up from students new to the teaching is a request for clarification on what I mean by the term “non-duality”. For many, especially in the West, the concept of dualism is might not be something they’ve ever run across, particularly if they were raised in one of the more prevalent Western religious traditions. 