Friday night, the weekly mediation and Dhamma talk was led by Ajahn Viradhammo, one of Ajahn Chah’s early Western students and current abbot of Tisarana Buddhist Monastery in Canada. Saturday, Ajahn Sumedho, Ajahn Chah’s first Western student and former abbot of Amaravati Buddhist Monastery in England, led a day-long of meditation and Dhamma reflections. And Sunday, Ajahn Pasanno, abbot of Abhayagiri Monastery in Redwood Valley, California and the second-most senior Western student of Ajahn Chah, led the grand opening ceremony, which consisted of chanting, some reflections by Ajahn Pasanno, Ajahn Sona, Sakula, and other members of the community, and a Thai-style water blessing.

Not only was it great to sit with and listen to the reflections of monks who have been practicing longer than I’ve been alive, but it was great to see how the PFoD community has grown over the years and for them to finally have a permanent home. A lot of people worked very hard, and gave generously of their time and financial resources, to make this grand opening a reality. When the building they were previously in was sold, and they had trouble finding another suitable (and affordable) location, there was some worry that the group might have to disband. But thanks to all that generosity and hard work (and maybe a bit of luck too), PFoD still has a spiritual home in Portland.

The entire experience was extremely auspicious, and I know it meant a lot to the whole community to have so many venerable monastics present, including Ajahn Sumedho. I know it definitely meant a lot to me. I think it’s safe to say the weekend was a success, and PFoD’s new home will continue to act as both a ‘landing pad’ for visiting monks and nuns and a place of training for the lay-community, being a welcoming sanctuary for anyone interested in trying to put the Buddha’s teachings into practice.

If we live a worldly life, however, I think we, as ‘householders,’ have some responsibility to engage in worldly issues. While the Buddha clearly discouraged the monastic community from engaging in worldly activities such as politics, I think it’s a mistake for lay-followers not to be. For one, politics affects almost every aspect of our lives, and being engaged in our communities and being a part of the political discussion, not to mention being active in broader social and political movements, is what makes our society and political systems function more effectively, and how progress, however slow it may sometimes be, is made.

To these these kinds of activities and decisions solely in the hands of others, some of whom are slaves to their defilements, isn’t wise, in my opinion. And if we choose to live in the world, then I think we share some responsibility for shaping it; and it makes sense to have people motivated by things like non-greed, non-aversion, and non-delusion add their voices to the mix, not to mention helping do what they can to fix things like inequality and injustice as long as it’s done with a spirit of compassion and harmlessness. The greatest danger of the practice of renunciation, in my opinion, is the tendency of practitioners to ignore the world around them while seeking their own happiness (which is one of the things that give non-Buddhists the mistaken impression that Buddhism is a selfish religion).

All too often in my experience, Buddhists fall back on teachings like ‘all processes/conditioned things are inconstant, unsatisfactory, and not-self’ (AN 3.134) while neglecting teachings such as “I am the owner of my actions, heir to my actions, born of my actions, related through my actions, and have my actions as my arbitrator. Whatever I do, for good or for evil, to that will I fall heir” (AN 5.57).

Moreover, just from a practical standpoint, not addressing many of the material conditions giving rise to and supporting society’s suffering ultimately serves to help maintain their continued existence (when this is, that is), which can negatively affect our practice, as well as that of others. If the society one lives in isn’t conducive to practicing Buddhism, for example, then it does matter what kind of society one lives, so we should naturally try to make it as conducive for ourselves and others as possible. As the Buddha said in Khp 5, “To reside in a suitable locality, to have done meritorious actions in the past and to set oneself in the right course — this is the greatest blessing.” To help illustrate what I mean here, I’ll give two example.

A general example is that a society that’s not only consumerist, but also politically and economically geared more towards the idea that greed and self-interest is the highest good, will potentially be less supportive culturally of monastic communities that live entirely in an economy of gifts (e.g., in comparing Eastern cultures, in which alms-giving and gift exchanges characteristic of ‘human economies’ regulated by custom and reputation and based more on co-operation have historically been more prevalent, to Western culture, where market-based economies based more on competition have been the norm, I noticed that Eastern monastics often receive more lay support as opposed to Western monastics, who often have to produce goods like beer, chocolate, coffee, wine, etc. to sell in order to support themselves).

A more specific example is the ecological impacts of logging in Thailand. The Buddha praised the wilderness and the benefits of practicing in the forest. The Thai Forest tradition grew out of a movement among monastics to return to this way of practice. In the past few decades, however, much of Thailand’s forests have disappeared, making this more difficult. Being involved in conservation efforts and trying to find better farming techniques and/or other ways of raising revenue is one way of trying to help preserve remaining forests in order to help keep this tradition alive.

The point is that, if the world is ruled by conditionality, doesn’t it make sense that working towards contributing positive conditions for the benefit of ourselves and others is a skillful thing for householders to do? It’d be great if everyone were free from greed, hatred, and delusion, and everyone treated everyone else with kindness, compassion, and generosity—if the world was free from all forms of exploitation, privation, and gross inequalities. But the world isn’t a perfect place, and we’re not all saints; and one of the ways we can help alleviate some of the world’s suffering is by trying to materially change it for the better. And from this point of view, it’s not about making Buddhism political, but about applying the ideals of Buddhism in all that we do, which for me includes being socially and politically active.

The next morning was covered in a blanket of mist, the setting moon peeking through on its way towards the horizon, and I found myself looking forward to the coming day. Scott and Joan from Portland Friends of the Dhamma were kind enough to pick me up on the way from their home in Lake Oswego to the hermitage, and the three of us set out into the October fog a little before 9am. We talked a bit on the way, and by the time we got close to the hermitage, the mist had cleared revealing a perfect fall day, brisk yet sunny, the colours of autumn painting the Columbia Gorge with a vibrant spectrum of green, yellow, orange, and bright red.

We arrived at the hermitage just after 10am, which is nestled in a beautifully forested and relatively secluded area along the Jewlett Creek. We unloaded the food we brought for the meal offering and then offered to help with anything that needed to be done around the hermitage. A few people, including a couple of the monks, spent the next hour raking leaves, while I was conscripted to mow a portion of the grounds since the Vinaya, the monastic rules of discipline, doesn’t allow monks to damage or destroy plants (although it’s technically only a minor offense entailing a confession to another monk). Afterwards, we gathered in the hermitage to cleanup and offer the daily meal. I ate my meal outside with Charla and Alistair (also from PFoD) and a family of quails.

Once the meal was over and everything was cleared away, we migrated to Yoga Samadhi in downtown White Salmon for the half-day retreat. I took the opportunity to walk from the hermitage to Yoga Samadhi with Alistair along the same path through the woods that the monks take on their alms round, and as we walked, he showed me some points of interest (like the monk’s kutis and adjoining walking paths and the two rock formations that one of the monks humourously named Moggallana and Sariputta) and told me a bit about the land and the hermitage’s history. We arrived at Yoga Samadhi a little after 1pm, just in time for the formal requesting of the precepts and morning chanting.

Chanting was followed by alternating periods of sitting and walking mediation for the next five hours. I sat. I walked. My mind ran the gambut of mental states like a monkey swinging through a forest wilderness, rarely resting on one branch for very long before swinging off the next. A good lesson on annica. My body hurt here, then there, then here and there. A good lesson on dukkha. And during the Dhamma discussion, Ajahn Sudanto mentioned that our main strategy to the experience of dukkha is to try to control and manipulate things to be other than their nature, but that’s a trap. A good lesson on anatta.

We made a brief stop near Eugene early on to grab some coffee, tea, and water at one the innumerable Starbucks that dot the universe, like some kind of ley line nexus points tying together all things, and then hurried towards the California border, eager to meet up with two monks on tudong in time to offer their daily meal, which has to be eaten before midday. Along the way, we passed the time by discussing everything from Dhamma to archaeology, anthropology, ecology, and the conditionality underlying geopolitics.

Close to 11:30am, we arrived at the Mystic Forest RV Park in Kalamth, California, just in time to offer the meal to the two tudong monks walking from Abhayagiri to the Pacific Hermitage in White Salmon, Washington, as well as the three that were driving down to Abhayagiri with us.

Afterwards, the group paid for their campsite for another night, Denise, the event organizer, arranged their meal the following day at the nearby Forest Cafe, and we all took a short hike to Hidden Beach to enjoy the beautiful landscape and fresh ocean air before saying goodbye to Ajahn Naniko and Tan Thitabho and continuing on to Abhayagiri. We arrived at Abhayagiri just as the sun was setting in Redwood Valley, paid our respects to Ajahn Pasanno, and settled in for the night.

Saturday began at 4am for Shad, one of the drivers, and I. We’d been offered a room at a guest house across from Abhayagiri that was about a ten minute drive up a rather rugged slope, and so wanted to make sure we weren’t late for morning puja, which started at 5am. We chanted both the traditional Pali and the English translation, and then we meditated as the sun rose. Morning puja was followed by a short work period and a light breakfast of oatmeal and coffee, both of which were heavenly.

My heavenly bliss was soon interrupted by the main work period, however, and I was sent to rake one of the many winding paths that weave their way through forested property that makes up Abhayagiri, mindfully avoiding the copious amounts of poison oak that also help to make up the monastery grounds. The work wasn’t unrewarding, though. Many of the paths offered their natural beauty and a sense of tranquility in return. We worked our way down towards the main house, making sure to finish in time to clean up before the start of the Upasika Day events.

By 10:30am, the meditation hall was filled with people, both lay and ordained. Upasika Day commenced with those of us taking the precepts with Ajahn Pasanno for the first coming up one by one with a traditional offering of candles, incense, and flowers, bowing three times, and requesting to take the three refuges and five precepts. Then we all took the refuges and precepts as a group, chanting in both the traditional Pali and the English translation that we undertake the training rules to refrain from taking the life of any living being, refrain from taking that which is not given, refraining from sexual misconduct, and refraining from indulging in drink and drugs that lead to carelessness.

Lunch followed. After the meal offering, Ajahn Pasanno and a number of his senior students spent the rest of the day explaining many of the monastic rules and ceremonies, not only to help educate the laity about monastic life in general, but also to help relate how some of these practices can be incorporated into our lay practice. Talking about the ins and outs of monastic life was inspiring; it filled some of us with a sense of longing. I couldn’t help fantasizing about what it must be like in being robes and surrounded by such skilled and dedicated monastics. At 7:30pm, after the informal tea period, Ajahn Sudanto led the evening puja and gave a Dhamma talk on the importance of spiritual friendship (kalyana-mitta) as a source of support on the path.

Sunday was slightly different since it was Wan Phra or ‘Monk Day,’ which is kind of like the Thai Buddhist equivalent of a sabbath day. There was no morning puja, so we all met up just before breakfast around 6:30-7:00am. Many of the monks went on alms round in the traditional style, some being dropped off in town while others simply walked along Tomki Road, with people placing food offerings into their bowls, while the lay people did their best to help out around the monastery. Since everything seemed to be taken care of, and I was mostly just getting in everybody else’s way, I decided to hike the two-and-a-half mile Cool Oaks trail that wraps around the monastery grounds, arriving back as the monks were returning from their alms round.

After the meal, the monks began to prepare for the ordination ceremony taking place at 4pm as the laity cleaned up from lunch, filling the remaining time however they felt the most appropriate. I spent most of it talking with Irv and Shad, checking out some of the books in the main house, and sitting in the meditation hall. Around 2:30pm, I started up the Cool Oaks trail, taking the long way around to the ordination platform. Others took the shorter route, or else caught a ride up the relatively steep mountainside.

Tan Sudhiro’s ordination ceremony lasted about two hours, all throughout which Ajahn Pasanno explained what was happening in detail as he acted as preceptor. The ceremony seemed especially auspicious as it had a full quorum of ten monks — double the number of monks needed to perform it outside of the Ganges valley (ten vs. five), illustrating the growing strength of Buddhism in the West — was attended by three senior monks and seven novices from the City of 10,000 Buddhas, and was performed on Father’s Day/the 18th Anniversary of Venerable Master Hua’s Entering Nirvana. I was happy for Tan Sudhiro and jealous at the same time.

The night ended with a quick clean-up of the ordination area and an informal tea period. The Pacific Hermitage monks took this time to catch up with some of the monks from Abhayagiri, while the group from Portland and some of the other upasikas took the opportunity to spend time with Ajahn Pasanno in the meditation hall, talking and asking questions about the practice. At the end of the night, we paid respects to Ajahn Pasanno and took leave, which is traditionally done in the monastic community by ceremony of Asking for Forgiveness (although we did this informally).

Monday began much like Friday and Saturday, at 4:00am, before the first rays of dawn. We all congregated at the main house, packed the cars, and commenced the long drive back to Portland just before 5am. Along the way, we stopped to eat at the Forest Cafe, and then took short a break at the half-mile Stout Memorial Grove trail in Jedediah Smith Redwoods State Park to stretch our legs, the trees as amazing and wonderful as the last three days. We arrived at the rendezvous point near Shad’s just after 7:00pm, and said our final farewells as the group disbanded and we went our separate ways.

In nearly all aspects of our lives, we are taught that success comes through a linear progression. You “level up” in life, career, relationships, physical condition, and in many other ways. This is reinforced through entertainment such as video games, novels, and movies, where someone starts off “weak” and gets stronger as time progresses, challenges are overcome, and goals accomplished. In many cases, there is a final “enemy” to vanquish; an anti-hero.

A recent project from NYU students Bona Kim and James Borda is a video game called “The Buddhist“, and it seeks to challenge the very concept of linear progression by presenting the idea of non-attachment in a medium that is traditionally very linear.

Through “The Buddhist” we hope our audience gains some awakening. By confronting them with a “game” in which any attempt to control the story results in failure, we hope our audience will be brought into the present moment – to enjoy the here and now, free of the anxious search for happiness in some other place and time.

The game was available to play at the ITP Winter Show, NYU’s annual showing of its Interactive Telecommunications Program student projects.

The goal of the game is to observe, reflect, and be in the present moment. Any attempt to control the on-screen character or cause something to happen other than what is currently being displayed on the screen results in “game over”. As you succeed in doing nothing, the on-screen character will go to different environments to meditate. The scenery is pleasing to observe and this is the goal; to observe and enjoy.

Even though it seems silly, it’s a concept that can cause insightful thinking; why do we need to control this character? What kind of feedback are we hoping for by pushing levers and buttons? How is this somehow more appealing than sitting back, observing, and reflecting?

It’s a fascinating art project, and one that causes us to think—by any measure, that’s a success.

After the meal, Ajahn Fa Thai made a huge pot of soup to take down to one of the local homeless shelters for all the people who have nowhere to go and nobody to spend the day with. That simple gesture really touched me for some reason, maybe because so few of us would think to do something like that, being so caught up in our own, cloistered lives (myself included). Sometimes it’s the simplest acts of kindness that can inspire the deepest reverence.

The monastery itself is nice and consists of a large, yellow house that serves as the monks’ residence, the newly constructed meditation hall that includes an adjoining kitchen, activity room with library (where they eat and receive visitors), and a couple of bathrooms, and spacious grounds that supply ample places to sit, walk, and take pictures of. It’s also nice in that it’s close to Seattle, but still in a relatively rural location, giving it a more peaceful and secluded feel. Their neighbor, for example, had what appeared to be a horse ranch, and both Friday and Saturday I saw hot air balloons leisurely passing by.

As far as my experience of retreats goes, it was fairly typical, structured yet relaxed. Friday night began with a quick orientation at 7pm (many of us were first time visitors to Wat Atam) and the taking of the eight precepts, making us quasi-monastics for our stay. Since the chanting guides they were using didn’t have the eight precepts in them, which are usually chanted, Ajahn Sudanto dispensed with the formality and just explained each one and that we were ipso facto observing them, which then segued into evening chanting, meditation, and a Dhamma talk in their newly opened meditation hall (or sala in Thai).

Like most Thai temples, they chant every morning and evening in Pali; although, this place was rather unique in that they used a shorter chanting guide containing just the Dedication of Offerings, Preliminary Homage, Homage to the Buddha, Homage to the Dhamma, Homage to the Sangha, Salutation to the Triple Gem, and Closing Homage, and did both the Pali and the English translation. (I’m not sure if this is normal, or if it was because the retreat was being led by a visiting monk from Abhayagiri, a predominately Western Thai forest monastery in Ukiah, CA; but most temples I’ve been to usually throw in more, like Reflection after Using the Requisites, Five Subjects for Frequent Recollection, Verses on the Noble Truths, etc.)

After the chanting, we sat for about an hour, and then Ajahn Sudanto gave a Dhamma talk before we all retired to our accommodations a little after 9pm. Since about 50 people registered, some of us had the opportunity to camp out back behind the meditation hall, as space in the meditation hall basement was limited. And I spent the first night curled in a ball, shivering. (The sleeping bag I brought apparently wasn’t up to the task of actually keeping me warm, and I was reminded of the night I camped out at Occupy Detroit.)

The next morning began at 5am, with one of the monks going throughout the meditation hall and by the tents gently ringing a bell. Not an unpleasant way to wake up before dawn. Surprisingly, even though I didn’t sleep very well due to the cold and the rough ground underneath my tent, I awoke feeling pretty good. I climbed out of the tent, splashed some water on my face in the bathroom, drank a cup of hot water, and met everyone in the meditation hall for the 5:30am morning chanting (same as the evening) and meditation, the latter of which I surprisingly didn’t fall asleep during.

At 7am, immediately following the meditation session, we all congregated in the kitchen for some chai tea and a light breakfast, mostly consisting of croissants, barley and rice with heated soy milk, and fruit, which, after everyone got their food and sat down, we ate mindfully in the ‘activity room,’ paying attention to each sensation and experience as it arose. As I slowly bit into a grape, for example, I noticed perceptions arising like ‘firm,’ ‘juicy,’ ‘slightly tart’; and I observed how my mind/body (since they’re both intimately connected) reacted to all the various sensations, such craving one taste or texture more than another, imaging what something was going to taste like, and comparing that with how it actually tasted (generally a back and forth between satisfaction and disappointment). When the meal was done, we washed our dishes outside at a specially prepared station as the kitchen sink was too small to accommodate the 50+ meditators including the volunteer staff.

After breakfast, it was right back to mediation followed by a Dhamma talk. The theme centred on a comparison between the process of building a fire using the bow method and the process of developing mindfulness, and how consistency of effort and the right materials are the key. Essentially, our minds aren’t really conditioned to focus on a single object for long periods of time, and are easily distracted, especially by what are called the five hindrances in Buddhism: sensual desires (covetous or greed for pleasurable sense experiences), anger/ill will, sloth and torpor, restlessness and worry, and skeptical doubt/uncertainty. Ajahn Sudanto gave the image of them (taken from Ajahn Sona) as things pulling the mind, pushing the mind, the mind rising up, the mind sinking down, and the mind spinning around.

To counter these mental states, which are like trying to use wet, rotten logs and grasses to start a fire, the meditator seeks to develop the five factors of the first jhana, i.e., applied thought, sustained thought, happiness, joy, and one-pointedness of mind, which are like using nice, dry logs and grasses to start a fire when consistent effort and energy is put into vigorously sawing the drill until it starts to heat up and ignites the kindling, which here represents using applied and sustained thought with consistent effort and energy to keep the meditation object, the breath, in mind. And the smoke in the analogy is the beginning of mindfulness and the accompanying joy and happiness that arise when the mind starts to become one-pointed, a combination of mental and bodily pleasure that can eventually be used to develop even more refined states of concentration and enjoyment, free the mind of the hindrances, and open it up for arising of insight.

When the talk was over, Ajahn Sudanto gave a brief description of walking meditation methods, and then had us do that until 11am. One method was to mark a path about 50ft in length, and mindfully walk back and forth while focusing on the sensation of the feet as they rise, touch the ground, and so on. An alternate method is to focus on the breath instead, and try to walk at a pace that matches, such as take 3 steps with the in breath and 3 with the out, which takes a bit more effort. I prefer to walk repeating a mantra while focusing on the sensation of my steps myself, breaking each word of the mantra in half, one for the right foot and one for the left: bud-dho, dham-mo, san-gho, par-ents, tea-chers, something I picked up from Ajahn Prasert in Fremont, CA, when I used to spend retreats there.

At 11am, we had lunch, which is always the biggest (and usually the last) meal at Theravada monasteries. There was the usual assortment of Thai food, rice, curries, noodles, etc., as well as fruit and a few other odds and ends. Most of the food was vegetarian, and they made sure to mark anything that wasn’t, which is rather unusual compared to other Thai monasteries I’ve stayed at, where the food is usually made with some kind of meat or another (some of them a delicious mystery). As with breakfast, we didn’t start until everyone got their food and sat down in the activity room, and Ajahn Sudanto reminded us to eat mindfully. I noticed that the closer I got to finishing, the faster and less mindfully I ate. All that conditioning from years of 30min lunch breaks is hard to overcome it seems.

We had about 45min of free time after lunch and before our 5hr block of meditation. I took the time to lie down in my tent for about 30mins since my back was being pissy.

From 1pm-6:00pm, we alternated between sitting and walking meditation. The first hour, we all sat together in the meditation hall, then we were given the option of staying and sitting longer or going outside to practice walking meditation; and so as not to disturb the people sitting in the meditation hall, whoever wanted to go in or out were asked to try and switch every half hour. I decided to walk for 30min, then sit another hour, then alternate between walking and sitting for 30min so that I finished with walking meditation. By the end, my knees hated me, and my back was plotting with them to do me in.

From 6pm-6:30pm, we had a tea break. I had some more of their homemade chai and cup of coffee, which gave me the energy for evening chanting and meditation, as well as the Dhamma talk and Q&A that followed. I honestly can’t remember much besides bits and pieces, but one thing that stood out was when he mentioned his first years practicing in the jungles of Thailand and not being able to sleep because of all the sounds he wasn’t used to hearing. By 9pm, I was physically sore and tired, but my mind was full of interesting experiences and insights that had popped up along the way, which made the pain worth it. I went back to my tent reflective, peaceful, and sad that the next day would be my last.

I awoke at 2am to the sound of what I assumed to be a sizable number of coyotes barking, yipping, and howling/screaming. It was unlike anything I’d ever heard before, and they sounded close. I also heard a number of other sounds that got my mind spinning, proliferating, and eventually convinced there were probably bears in the area that could smell my Clif Bars and would be visiting me soon. At 4:50am, Ajahn Santidhammo came through with the bell, and I awoke to find myself and my Clif Bars intact.

Sunday began the same as Saturday, with everyone meeting in the meditation hall for the 5:30am morning chanting and meditation, which again, much to my surprise, I didn’t fall asleep during. Out of all the sittings, in fact, this was one of the most fruitful. My mind had finally become used to the seclusion from the stimuli of my normal, day-to-day life, and was beginning to settle down. When things popped up that pulled my mind along with them, or when aversion was pushing my mind away from the pains of my body and the present moment, it was easier to simply note this and then let them go by mentally saying ‘These things are impermanent,’ These things aren’t important right now,’ ‘I don’t need to follow that,’ etc.

At one point, my posture was actually quite comfortable, and the breath became a very pleasant sensation, and I was mindfully able to follow it as it flowed all the way in and out until a subtle feeling of pleasure arose in my mind and spread throughout my body. Sadly, I wasn’t able to develop and spread the feeling further, and I began to be distracted by pain in my knees and other intruding thoughts. If this had been a week-long retreat, I probably would have had more chances to get my fire of mindfulness going; but the end of the retreat was drawing near.

The sit ended with a Dhamma talk followed by a Q&A session from 8am-9am. Ajahn Sudanto reviewed some of the themes from previous talks, and answered a number of questions about a variety of topics such as whether it’s better to sit with eyes open or closed (he encouraged everyone to explore different methods, and suggested eyes open might be good for relieving sleepiness if one is starting to nod off or if one is prone to seeing images and day-dreaming with them closed), what to do when pain arises (try to focus the breath and breathing on the spot where pain arises and breathe through it, or study the pain itself, analyzing whether it’s solid and steady, arising here and there, whether it’s pain signaling damage or just the pain of not moving, etc.). The retreat officially ended with a short blessing chant and paying respects to the Buddha, Dhamma, and Sangha.

By now, people had begun to start streaming into the monastery for the combination Ancestor’s Day ceremony, weekly Sunday service, and meditation hall grand opening, which promised to make the day a lively religious/social event. We packed up our tents and made way for the throng of people, mostly Thais, to take our place. I said goodbye to Ajahn Sudanto, found my ride, and we began the long drive home.

Life’s the same way. Maybe they’re not punching you, but you get attacked a lot. Maybe it’s an abusive comment. Maybe it’s a bold lie, or just someone being disingenuous. Maybe it’s an attack on a relationship, your career, or your identity. You get to choose how you respond.

When you’re mindful and in control of yourself, you can move out of the way. Then you can decide how best to respond to defuse the attack. If you don’t have the habit of moving established, maybe you deflect it with sarcasm (a verbal “hard block”). If you don’t move at all, you get hit with the full weight of it and it cripples you.

It’s like this every time you respond to (or moderate!) a discussion or blog post, too. How you move in response to the energy will define everything about your interaction with a community. Do you have the reflex established to move, or does every blow land, making you angry? Every time you’re attacked is a new opportunity to change your habits.

A few weeks ago we silently rolled out Badges. Badges are a way to show off your level of participation in your user profile.

The theory goes like this: The more you participate in the community, the more ultimately rewarding it is for you and for the rest of the community. Badges are a great way to give community members a “roadmap” of how to best participate in this community. If there’s a badge for something, chances are you’re going to find it a rewarding experience to earn it. We will have badges for things like sharing your photography, being helpful, and introducing yourself.
We’ve even had custom artwork drawn to match the theme of the site. Our new badges are beautiful! You can see a full list of all the badges that can be earned. You can request badges here as well.

Today we’ve also turned on Reactions. Reactions give you the ability to reward community members who contribute positive content with an “Insightful”, “Awesome”, or “LOL” on their post. Karma or Rep systems have always been an important factor in online forums—if a member has a massive amount of positive reputation, you can generally expect that the words coming out of their keyboard are, at the very least, trustworthy or helpful.

You can “awesome” a post if you feel that it deserves it. If a post makes you literally laugh out loud or spit coffee on your screen, give ‘em an “LOL”. If the post is insightful and meaningful, by all means, click “insightful”.

We hope that you enjoy the new Reactions system. Get badges, make great posts, and continue enjoying our wonderful online community!

RV living as Buddhist practice

RV living is every bit as personalized and varied as any one person’s Buddhism practice. There are million dollar rigs (with luxuries equal to those in a Manhattan apartment) to pop-up tents mounted on a trailer (simply for sleeping and keeping the bugs off you, sort of).

There is a bit of upkeep with any of them, but the cost will depend on how much you are willing to do yourself. Part of living in an RV is the freedom to pack up and move whenever you feel like it, with little effort, but if the RV isn’t maintained then that could become an issue. I haven’t gotten to the point in my research to know how cost effective RV life is compared to our current life, but I know enough to say that it can be as expensive or cheap as a person is willing to make it.

To start with, I will talk about minimizing. There isn’t a lot of room and there are weight restrictions as well—and you don’t want to break an axle or flatten a tire from too much weight. Therefore, this way of living would provide substantial nudge to let go of unnecessary things. You must put consideration in everything you want to carry on-board. Of course, there is always the option to rent storage if you really don’t want to let go of some thing(s) but it won’t work out on-board.

Slowly over time, I suspect I will learn more of what we absolutely need and we will become willing to let go of more things, thus unburdening our lives even more than when we initially start. Also we will be less apt to buy frivolous shiny trinkets when shopping or visiting somewhere.

The people that choose full-time living in an RV aren’t your typical people. They tend to seem lighter, more spirited, less attached to the superficial/material things and surroundings. All those I have come in contact with have had a very positive, friendly, and willing-to-help attitude, while still maintaining a healthy level of respect for each others’ privacy. Also there appears to be a higher awareness, respect for, and love of nature among them, thus most are compelled to take care of it—they seem to realize it will in turn provide and take care of them.

Since city streets are too small for nearly all RVs, full time RVers live outside or completely stay away from metropolitan areas and dense populations. They don’t often experience the hustle and bustle, harried, stress-filled lifestyle that the average city dwellers does; to that end, they seem relaxed, easy going, and less burdened by those types of weights.

Not only are humans healthier living as one with nature, so are some of the sub-systems on-board an RV; such as water and waste tank maintenance. It is best to use biodegradable eco-friendly products, like enzymes in the waste disposal tanks. Being in such a confined space you will naturally want to minimize the amount of trash and waste you make, because you will need to hold on to it until you get to an appropriate place to dispose of it.

During my research, I have found my thought process has already started to change. One example is: my original intent was to minimize and remove some of the stress and burdens in both my son’s and my own life and bring more joy; so my approach was in looking at the minimal amount of space I thought we could make do with. Not too long ago, my idea of the space we would be living in was realized. The RV is simply going to be the place we can safely keep some personal items, supplies such as food, clothing, and laptops, shelter us from adverse weather, and provide us with a connection to the world while we escape to less populated areas. Also, we will each still have a separate space to sleep, and not worry that we will wake up to a bear licking our toes or faces. Our actual living space will be all that area around us, as far as we can walk and see—or maybe it will be a couple of chairs and a table outside under a tree doing work and/or school work. Our actual living space will be much larger than the 1000 sq. ft. apartment, that we are currently living too much of our lives in.

Another way my thinking has changed is that when I think about buying something new, I consider its versatility. Multiple uses for a single item seems to be a key to feeling like you are not denying yourself.

Resources

Following are few resources I started my research with, for anyone that would like consider whether this lifestyle may be right for them.

Getting started: Comparing RVs

Changing Gears: The RV Lifestyle

The RVer’s Bible: Everything You Need to Know About Choosing, Using, & Enjoying Your RV by Kim and Sunny Baker.

I read this book front to back, making many notes, it has awesome amount of knowledge on the ins & outs, tops & bottoms of RVs. It is one of the most recommended books for anyone that owns, or is thinking of purchasing, an RV.

I like to browse through RVS.com for the pictures, and to get a glimpse of the different styles and models (to dream and keep me motivated), but there are much better deals to be found out there. It’s important before deciding what would be right for you to go to an RV show or dealer lot and check some out in person. I originally thought my son and I would need around a 28-30 ft motorhome, but after going to a show, I think we will be fine in a 25-27 ft, possibly even less—but I don’t want to push ourselves into too much of a leap in downsizing at once.

I have talked about correlations I recognize between RV living in relation of Buddhism and minimal living, but it isn’t without its responsibilities and expenses. After researching all these things about RV living, I believe it is an attainable way for my son and I to find a mentally/physically healthier and more peaceful life, also it will provide more varied opportunities for practicing Buddhism.

Jiro Dreams of Sushi is a documentary about a man and his sushi restaurant in Tokyo, Japan. Jiro, at the time of filming, was 85 years old. Every day except Sunday, he gets up and goes into work at Sukiyabashi Jiro. There, along with his son Yoshikazu and a handful of apprentices, he serves up what many consider the best sushi on the entire planet.

Sukiyabashi Jiro is in a subway station. It’s a tiny, 10-seat restaurant. It costs an exorbitant amount of money to eat there. There is no menu. There are no appetizers. You put your name on a waiting list that exceeds a month, you pay almost $400, and you eat what Jiro puts in front of you while he watches—and only then will you experience the highest state of sushi ever created.

Much of the film focuses on Jiro and his relentless pursuit of perfection. Every single piece of sushi he serves up is an attempt to make it better than the last. You can see, then, that being an apprentice under a man who is never satisfied would probably be extremely challenging.

Throughout the film, we see Jiro standing, sternly glaring at his apprentices, his son, or his customers (he watches his customers eat, which many find off-putting). He appears lost in contemplation; studying his customer’s faces as they eat, watching the body language of his apprentices, making sure his son is doing everything correctly. He is absolutely, at all times, focused on one thing and one thing only: the sushi.

There are lessons to be learned from Jiro. Finding a craft that you’re passionate about and then uncompromisingly pursuing it is admirable. Is sushi important? It doesn’t matter. Does Jiro’s obsession with perfection affect his personal relationships? It doesn’t matter. Is Jiro loved? Perhaps. Perhaps not. It doesn’t seem to matter.

Despite the titular character and the focus on Jiro, however, the movie seems to be more about his son, Yoshikazu. Here is a man who is in his 50s, and for his entire life he has been working under his father’s strict and uncompromising control. He didn’t go to college. No wife or children were mentioned. We see a long scene in which Yoshikazu is talking to the filmmakers as he methodically roasts sheets of nori, the seaweed used to wrap sushi rolls. During the entire scene, he talks about doing the same thing over and over again, about learning something so thoroughly that it becomes your nature, and about finding peace with this type of lifestyle. During the entire monologue, the camera is focused on Yoshikazu’s hands. He never loses a beat, he never falters—it’s as if he is a robot, perfectly programmed for this one simple task.

Yoshikazu seems extremely happy in his life. He goes to the market, he forges friendships with fish and rice experts, and yet he proudly boasts of his father’s work, of his father’s awards, of his father’s achievements.

Jiro admits to being a rather bad father. Throughout his sons’ childhood, he was not present, since he was always at the restaurant. He does show moments of tenderness, though, even as he claims he is extra strict with Yoshikazu and his other son Takashi. Takashi opted to move out of his father’s business and open his own sushi restaurant (with his father’s blessing). However, when Takashi moved out, Jiro told him “You have no home to return to.” In this way, Jiro was making sure Takashi understood that he absolutely had to succeed. Failure was not an option.

Yoshikazu says, throughout the film, that he will never be as good as his father. A prominent food reviewer says, “Yoshikazu could be twice as good as his father and only then will they say he is as good as Jiro. He won’t have it easy.”

Yoshikazu and the apprentices (the ones that make it for more than a day or two, anyway) are paragons of patience and dedication. There is a scene in which one of the apprentices talks about spending four years working on perfecting tamagoyaki (egg sushi). Every day, for four years, he would make tamagoyaki and have Jiro tell him what was wrong with it, how bad it was, and to do it again. Finally, one day, Jiro tasted the tamagoyaki, said, “It’s good. That’s how it should be done.”

The apprentice broke down in tears. He had achieved a small bit of enlightenment.

One glaring omission from this film is any mention at all of Takashi and Yoshikazu’s mother—presumably Jiro’s wife. Jiro does talk about his parents and childhood a bit (it was bleak), but he never mentions anything about his love life. It’s as if Takashi and Yoshikazu were hatched from eggs and specifically groomed for sushi. They may as well have been born in the restaurant.

This movie makes you think about what you do. It makes you want to buckle down and practice your craft. It’s a shining example of what passion and focus can achieve, but there are also lessons about life and love to be had.

Perhaps only through this level of determination and mindfulness can perfection be achieved. Jiro is a man who was ready and willing to make whatever sacrifices were necessary to achieve perfection. Whether you like him or not is irrelevant. Perhaps that’s what we’re meant to take from this.

Here’s a picture of the statue in front of the chùa (temple):

My first lesson came in the form of a deep intuition of a long friendship. It was clear to me that the stories some friends had of me were not how I saw myself or my current story. I felt this disconnected undercurrent as I struggled in my new and stronger self, one that left any trace of victim aside. The new self was one that others could not recognize, and one that showed significant growing pains through repeated mistakes.It would be the easy way to go back to feeling misunderstood and as a victim of others’ opinions of me—however, I was focusing on MY Right Speech. I could not judge if they were following their own path.

I realized that Right Speech was not just the words that came out of my mouth, but the stories I told that they would never hear. These stories, told to myself or others, colored my speech and must have been affecting the other.

Managing Right Speech while holding stories of the other that are outdated, judgmental or demeaning, is like trying to hold a lid on a boiling pot—sooner or later the lid is going to slip and not hold in that steam. Right Intention guides us to let go of the many ego-centric causes of these stories. The stories can cast us in the role of victim, rescuer or the abuser. We may be looking to fill an emotional need that is not right for that person to be asked to fill. We may be expressing anger towards this person or another. Keeping our focus on ‘us’ as separate and different from the ‘other’ turns up the heat.

We tell that story of the ‘other’ that meets our needs, and sometimes the other has little impact. Then maybe we cringe. We know this story is not all the truth, we know this story does not encourage compassion. Feeling our failure, we can sit in compassion for ourselves and the other. We can also heat up the stove, tell it to others, and get validation to justify telling the story to begin with.

We know we are not separate—we experience we are not separate when we meditate. We are not our own little unique snowflake, but rather part of a storm. So by holding this hurt we only keep it going, setting everyone up for hurtful speech which passes on and on.

The question is how, how do we transform a lifetime of not watching Right Speech and possibly being in a culture that focuses more on the negative than the positive in others?

First of all, metta. Start with people who are a little easier than the person you feel many negative emotions about. Then ease into those who anger us. The entire process takes a lot of metta towards ourselves since we will not get it right very soon. Remember it is all practice, on and off the cushion.

Next, examine those stories about self and others. That friend who is always a victim? Treat them as a powerful survivor. This does not take away their challenges but may empower them.

Watch what causes more negative stories and makes that metta difficult. After two weeks, I can say I am almost ready to practice metta for the person who verbally attacked someone I care about because of a misplaced protective feeling towards me. That is pretty huge, but if Ghandi could do this for his would-be assassin, then it is possible. Take your time and give yourself compassion until you are ready. This may take dropping or limiting some friendships, not watching the news or reading horrible stories or putting a reminder alarm on your phone to bring yourself back to your practice.

Notice I did not say goal. Setting our goals, New Year’s resolutions and exercise plans can be helpful, but more often we get discouraged at a setback and then judge ourselves until we quit. This is not going to be a goal we achieve but a practice that refines over time. You will be aware of one area to work on and then feel as if you are starting over. The rewards, however, are still very powerful.

One result of my focus on Right Speech has been being seen as a strong positive force in my workplace, and as a result having my input respected even more. I am getting more opportunities to train and speak in groups to represent the interests of our programs.

For me, Right Speech has meant shutting up often, but even more than that—speaking up.

I went to their wedding, which was small, touching, and beautiful. While I was there I met some of their friends and I learned a lot about their church—the First Christian Church of Orange.

One thing that struck me immediately was that Olivia, the bride, went out of her way to make sure that she respected and understood my Buddhist beliefs, and wanted to make sure that I was comfortable at her Christian wedding—something no Christian in my experience had ever done for me. I was quick to ensure my friend and his bride-to-be that there wouldn’t be any issues. I was totally awestruck at the fact that they even considered my feelings in the matter. It was very humbling and a striking turn of tables, as generally Buddhists in America have to make sure to explain or apologize to their Christian friends and ensure their comfort in awkward situations like weddings and funerals.

I tell you that anecdote to set the stage for the kind of church that Olivia presides over. Over the time I spent in Orange with the newlyweds, I came to have a great deal of respect for their church. They were openly tolerant of everyone, regardless of race, background, and (most strikingly) sexual orientation. They had many openly gay congregants.

The church doesn’t just pay lip service to being “open”, either. In getting to know my friend’s new wife, she used her convictions and biblical knowledge to explain exactly why her church believes that Jesus Christ was, above all else, a tolerant and loving man. Their mission was only to share Christ’s love of everyone.

One of the friends I met while in Orange was Michelle. She is also a member of the church. She writes a blog about being a single Christian mom and today’s post, on Valentine’s Day, really struck me as capturing the spirit of the church.

The post is called “Be Loud in Love“. Reading it brought me back to my trip to Orange and was a refreshing reminder, in a world that is filled with news of hatred, violence, and intolerance, there are indeed loving and kind Christians out there. This particular passage struck me:

There are some Christians who “love the sinner, hate the sin.” This seems to me like a backhanded insult, that the Christian does not love the whole person, but instead they love who they, the Christian, want the ”sinner” to be. You can’t only love someone’s potential, you have to love their reality, too. That’s like saying “I love the thin person inside of you.” This idea is not love, it is simply tolerance.

I know a lot of Buddhists have, if not outright hostility, a general distaste for Christianity—in a pushy Christian society like America, it’s not hard to see why. Just try to remember our own philosophy of loving kindness and let’s try to practice a little tolerance of our own.

NewBuddhist is a light-hearted community. We laugh. We don’t take things too seriously. We are here for people who are reaching out to Buddhism to answer some question or fill some gap in their lives. We have compassion for those who are new to Buddhism. We are not jerks.

If you have trouble with taking things far too seriously, or you are by nature an angry person, or it bothers you when people are “wrong on the internet”, or if you feel the need to be correct all the time, NewBuddhist is probably not a great place for you. There are, I’m certain, other Buddhism-centric communities that appeal to advanced practitioners or embrace the drama.

But drama? NewBuddhist ain’t it. Lincoln and I (the two guys who run this site) are just normal, happy dudes. We chill. We drink bourbon once in a while. We joke. We laugh. And we believe, with all our hearts, that practicing lovingkindness and compassion in an online space is entirely possible, appropriate, and so very, very modern.