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Buddhist concepts have made their way into a lot of the posts I’ve written here.  Over the past few months, I have written three posts dealing directly with Buddhism as the main topic.  I have ideas for several others, too.  I therefore decided that I need to have a dedicated index page for Buddhist topics.  Some articles will still be cross-indexed elsewhere, but this will be a one-stop-shop for specifically Buddhist topics.

The Heart Sutra

The Dhammapada

An Introduction to Zen Buddhism

Confessions of a Pseudo-Buddhist

Which Yana?


Quote for the Week

In every age since beginningless time, it is said, out of compassion for the world, Taaraa has appeared to help living beings attain Enlightenment. In our age, so the ancient stories say, The Bodhisattva Avalokitesvara, Regarder of the Cries of the world, looked down in compassion on the pain of humanity…. He also saw that however many beings he helped to escape from the fruitless round of mundane existence, the overall number grew no smaller – and for this he wept. The tears streamed down his face and formed a great pond. From the depths of its water sprang a blue lotus and on the lotus appeared the shimmering form of a beautiful sixteen year old woman. Her body was diaphanous and its translucent green seemed to hover between Reality and non-reality, quivering with an energy that could be seen, heard and felt. She was clad in the silks and jewels of a princess and her hands, expressing boundless giving and refuge, held deep blue lotuses. Born of Avalokitesvara’s tears of compassion, she was herself the quintessence of compassion. She who is bright, she of the beautiful eyes, Taaraa, joy of starlight, had once again appeared in this world.

–“The Origin of All Rites of Tārā, Mother of All the Tathāgatas”, translated by Martin Willson, in In Praise of Tara: Songs to the Saviouress, Wisdom Publications, pages 44-86 (1986);courtesy of Wikiquote


One of the most important concepts in all schools of Buddhism is pratītyasamutpāda (in Sanskrit–the Pali form is paṭiccasamuppāda).  The word is a very long one in either of the classical languages of Buddhism, but it is not only a key philosophical notion in Buddhist thought, it has a much wider applicability, particularly in the modern, industrial, interconnected world in which we live.  I have referenced it here and there in different places on this blog, and in various comments I’ve made on other blogs I frequent.  Despite this, I’ve not spoken about the term in and of itself at any length.  That’s an omission that needs to be rectified, since pratītyasamutpāda easily deserves a post of its own, particularly as a resource for future reference in discussion in which it turns up.

The first step in discussing pratītyasamutpāda is to translate it–what the heck does it mean?  Edward Conze, one of the most important Western scholars of Buddhism in the mid-20th Century, delightfully translates the Sanskrit mouthful as an English mouthful:  “conditioned co-production”.  This is actually a petty good root-by-root rendering of the Sanskrit, but it is, as noted, quite a mouthful and perhaps not so delightful to the general reader.  Other renderings include “conditioned arising” and “dependent arising”.  The most common rendering I’ve seen is “dependent origination”, so this is what I’m going to use for now.  So, we have a translation; but still, what does it mean?

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Interpenetration is an important teaching, but it still suggests that things outside of one another penetrate into each other. Interbeing is a step forward. We are already inside, so we don’t have to enter. In contemporary nuclear physics, people talk about implicit order and explicit order. In the explicit order, things exist outside of each other — the table outside of the flower, the sunshine outside of the cypress tree. In the implicit order, we see that they are inside each other — the sunshine inside the cypress tree. Interbeing is the implicit order. To practice mindfulness and to look deeply into the nature of things is to discover the true nature of interbeing. There we find peace and develop the strength to be in touch with everything. With this understanding, we can easily sustain the work of loving and caring for the Earth and for each other for a long time.

–Thich Nhat Hanh, The Sun My Heart; courtesy of Wikiquote.

Zen Gospel Singing for the Weekend

When you’re not sure which religion you should be in….


Quote for the Week

You man with a human body but a demon’s face,
Listen to me. Listen to the song of Milarepa!
Men say the human body is most precious, like a gem;
There is nothing that is precious about you.
You sinful man with a demon’s look,
Though you desire the pleasures of this life,
Because of your sins, you will never gain them.
But if you renounce desires within,
You will win the Great Accomplishment.

It is difficult to conquer oneself
While vanquishing the outer world;
Conquer now your own Self-mind.
To slay this deer will never please you,
But if you kill the Five Poisons within,
All your wishes will be fulfilled.

–Milarepa, “Song to the Hunter” as translated in The Hundred Thousand Songs of Milarepa: The Life-Story and Teaching of the Greatest Poet-Saint Ever to Appear in the History of Buddhism (1999) edited by Garma C. C. Chang; courtesy of Wikiquote

Which Yana?

There were a couple of points I wanted to make in my previous post about my decades-long flirtation with Buddhism, but which I totally forgot.  That’s just as well; it’s grist for a new post, and it will allow me to expand at greater length on what I was going to say there.  In order to do that, I’ll need to do some groundwork and unpacking of just what I mean.

All major religions consist of numerous sects.  Many faiths claim to be universal, the One True Faith, the only accurate portrait of reality, the great path meant for all mankind.  Mankind, however, is a contentious thing, and one of the very most characteristic traits of human beings is their tendency to disagree.  This is as much true in the realm of religion as in politics, culture, language, and any other areas of human life.  As much as religions may preach a message of unity, in actuality they all manifest, to various degrees, disunity.

In the case of the more familiar religions, the divisions are well-known.  Christianity, for example, consists of the Catholic Church, the various branches of the Eastern Orthodox Church, and the various Protestant churches, as well as a few other smaller groups (those who are into mind-numbing detail as to the various divisions of Christianity may go here for quite a bit of religious inside baseball, if they so wish).  Judaism is divided into Orthodox, Reform, and (in the US) Conservative branches, as well as some smaller groups (Reconstructionist, Karaite, and so on).  Though Islam is less familiar in the West, the politics of the Middle East have given Westerners at least a passing awareness of the Sunni and Shi’ite sects of Islam.

Buddhism is a bit of a paradox in this respect.  Though sources vary, Buddhists probably represent no more than one percent of the population of the United States.  Despite this, it has become highly visible in the U.S. since the 80’s.  This is partly because of increased recognition of the plight of Tibet along with the concurrent popularity of the present Dalai Lama.  Moreover, many high-profile celebrities, not least of them Richard Gere, have embraced and promoted Buddhism.  Also, secularized forms of Buddhist meditation, such as Mindfulness-based Stress Reduction (among others), have come to be widely practiced even by people who do not consider themselves Buddhist at all.  Despite all this, the denominations and divisions of Buddhism are not very well-known in this country.  That, then, is where I’ll start.

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Confessions of a Pseudo-Buddhist

A few years ago I was shopping in the local grocery store.  As I was walking down the aisle, I passed another guy, whom I noticed was looking at me.  He called me by name, and I recognized him–he’d been my best friend’s roommate in college some thirty years before.  It turned out that we both lived in the same small town now.  We talked for awhile, catching up.  At one point, I mentioned in passing that I was a member of the local Catholic parish.  He looked at me somewhat askance, and then said, “I always thought you were Buddhist!”  I don’t remember how I responded to that at the time.  Thinking about it later, though, I decided, upon looking back, that I probably did come off as a Buddhist in those halcyon days of yore.  Since then, I sometimes describe myself at that point as a “quasi-Buddhist” or a “functional Buddhist”.  Maybe “Buddhist fellow-traveler” would be better.  Best of all, perhaps, as with the title of this post, “pseudo-Buddhist”.

I’ve discussed here how reading the Dhammapada caused me to become interested in Buddhism.  I read voraciously about Buddhism in the sources available to me at that time–principally books on Zen, though there were some others, as well.  In particular, I read and re-read D. T. Suzuki’s An Introduction to Zen Buddhism, a book I need to write about in detail in the future.  In conversations I’d often quote the Buddha or refer to Buddhist concepts.  I can easily see why my friend thought I was, indeed, Buddhist.  On the other hand, there was no real depth to it.  Except for brief attempts on maybe one or two occasions, I never really tried meditation (much later, after I became Catholic, I’ve done Buddhist and other forms of meditation relatively extensively).  I certainly never took refuge, the official way of converting to Buddhism.  I was vaguely aware of a Buddhist study group in the city were I was living at that time; but for reasons of which I’m unsure even now, I never made contact (I did do mediation at their meditation center many years later, once more, after I came into the Church).  You might say that such Buddhism as I exhibited was all saffron and no substance.

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An Introduction to Zen Buddhism

I have written previously of the profound influence the Dhammapada had on me when I read it at about the age of eighteen.  That resulted for me being for a considerable time what I’ve described elsewhere as a “pseudo-Buddhist“.  During that period, I read pretty much anything about Buddhism I could get my hands on.  This was actually much less than you might think.  Because of immigration from China and Japan, there had been Buddhists in the United States as far back as the mid-19th Century.  Pioneers such as Nyogen Senzaki had even begun to teach Buddhist practices, particularly meditation, to non-Asians by the turn of the 20th Century.  Still, it wasn’t until the post-World War II era that relatively large numbers of Americans began to study Buddhism in earnest.

As these early adopters of Buddhism gradually completed their studies, becoming ordained in some cases, and setting up schools of their own, a trickle of books started to become available in the 60’s and 70’s.  It wasn’t really until the late 80’s and early 90’s, though, with the increased visibility of and interest in Buddhism, partly because of awareness of the plight of Tibet and high profile advocacy by celebrities such as Richard Gere, that the trickle of books became a flood.  One can find Buddhist books and magazines even in bookstores in relatively small towns these days.  Back in the 80’s, even though I lived in a fairly large urban area, the pickings were much slimmer.

My initial interest, for reasons I’ve explained before, was in Theravada, the tradition of Buddhism of Sri Lanka and Thailand.  As noted, though, the pickings were slim, and most of what was available at that time dealt with Zen.  Philip Kapleau’s classic The Three Pillars of Zen was all over the place.  I tried to read it more than once, but I never could get very far in it.  It struck me as boring and irrelevant, and didn’t answer specific questions I had.  I actually bought a used copy of it a couple of years ago and tried to read it again.  Thirty years later, I still found it pretty much as unreadable as I had as a twenty-something, and I passed the book along.  In any case, at some point in the mid-80’s–probably around ’84, though I’m not sure–I came across An Introduction to Zen Buddhism by the famed Japanese scholar of Buddhism D. T. Suzuki.  That book clicked with me immediately, and I reread it time and again.

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Too Much Meta!

“What is meta,” you may ask, “and how is there too much of it?”  Those are excellent questions.  In order to answer them, I’ll need to give a little background on just what it is I’m talking about.  “Meta” comes from the Greek preposition μετά, which simply means “after” or “beyond”, among other things.  It can also be a prefix in which the basic meaning is attached to the root word.  For example, “metamorphosis” pairs meta– with with a derivative of μορφή (morphē), “form” or “shape”, giving the meaning, “beyond the [original] form”.  Thus, in a metamorphosis, something (such as a caterpillar) goes beyond the form it has into another form (such as a butterfly).

A subtle shift in this straightforward meaning began with the works of Aristotle, and rather inadvertently, at that.  Aristotle’s books on various topics derived from what we would now call lecture notes for the talks he gave at the school he founded, the Lyceum. These were either written by Aristotle himself, or taken down by his students.  After his death, these notes were collated and arranged by topic.  The book dealing with the working of the natural world was called the Physics, from the Greek φυσικά (physika), which simply means “having to do with nature”.  The name stuck, and we still call the study of mass, energy, motion, and such “physics”.  The book that was placed next in the sequence after the Physics dealt with abstract topics on the nature of being, what we can know and how we can know it, causality, and so on.  Whoever it was who arranged the texts very pragmatically called this text τὰ μετὰ τὰ φυσικά (ta meta ta physika), literally, “the things coming after the Physics”).  In other words, it was the next book after the one on physics, so its title was essentially After Physics!

This was shortened by the Romans, who translated Aristotle into Latin, to Metaphysica, which we Anglicize as Metaphysics.  From early on, the tendency was to interpret “meta”–“beyond”–as meaning not “beyond” in the sense of “the next book in the sequence”, which was its original connotation, but “beyond” in the sense of “transcending”.  Thus “metaphysics” was understood to mean “that which goes beyond ordinary physics” or “that which transcends nature”.  This has been the standard connotation of “metaphysics” ever sense; and this connotation has determined the use of “meta” in other contexts, as well.

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