Buddha Statue from Afghanistan

With the tragedies in Haiti, Mongolia, Africa, Afghanistan, Iraq…..well, the list is endless really, one begins to wonder if it really can ever end. The Buddha teaches that it can, but must begin with our own ending of hatred within our own hearts. This was sent to me today and so beautiful I thought to share it with you.
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This poem by Thich Nhat Hanh embodies the essence of what he calls “interbeing,” the innerconnectedness of all things.

Call Me by My True Names
by Thich Nhat Hanh

From: Peace is Every Step: The Path of Mindfulness in Everyday Life by Thich Nhat Hanh

In Plum Village, where I live in France, we receive many letters from the refugee camps in Singapore, Malaysia, Indonesia, Thailand, and the Philippines, hundreds each week. It is very painful to read them, but we have to do it, we have to be in contact. We try our best to help, but the suffering is enormous, and sometimes we are discouraged. It is said that half the boat people die in the ocean. Only half arrive at the shores in Southeast Asia, and even then they may not be safe.

There are many young girls, boat people, who are raped by sea pirates. Even though the United Nations and many countries try to help the government of Thailand prevent that kind of piracy, sea pirates continue to inflict much suffering on the refugees. One day we received a letter telling us about a young girl on a small boat who was raped by a Thai pirate. She was only twelve, and she jumped into the ocean and drowned herself.

When you first learn of something like that, you get angry at the pirate. You naturally take the side of the girl. As you look more deeply you will see it differently. If you take the side of the little girl, then it is easy. You only have to take a gun and shoot the pirate. But we cannot do that. In my meditation I saw that if I had been born in the village of the pirate and raised in the same conditions as he was, there is a great likelihood that I would become a pirate. I saw that many babies are born along the Gulf of Siam, hundreds every day, and if we educators, social workers, politicians, and others do not do something about the situation, in twenty-five years a number of them will become sea pirates. That is certain. If you or I were born today in those fishing villages, we may become sea pirates in twenty-five years. If you take a gun and shoot the pirate, all of us are to some extent responsible for this state of affairs.

After a long meditation, I wrote this poem. In it, there are three people: the twelve-year-old girl, the pirate, and me. Can we look at each other and recognize ourselves in each other? The tide of the poem is “Please Call Me by My True Names,” because I have so many names. When I hear one of the of these names, I have to say, “Yes.”

Call Me by My True Names

Do not say that I’ll depart tomorrow
because even today I still arrive.

Look deeply: I arrive in every second
to be a bud on a spring branch,
to be a tiny bird, with wings still fragile,
learning to sing in my new nest,
to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower,
to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.

I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry,
in order to fear and to hope.
The rhythm of my heart is the birth and
death of all that are alive.

I am the mayfly metamorphosing on the surface of the river,
and I am the bird which, when spring comes, arrives in time
to eat the mayfly.

I am the frog swimming happily in the clear pond,
and I am also the grass-snake who, approaching in silence,
feeds itself on the frog.

I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones,
my legs as thin as bamboo sticks,
and I am the arms merchant, selling deadly weapons to
Uganda.

I am the twelve-year-old girl, refugee on a small boat,
who throws herself into the ocean after being raped by a sea
pirate,
and I am the pirate, my heart not yet capable of seeing and
loving.

I am a member of the politburo, with plenty of power in my
hands,
and I am the man who has to pay his “debt of blood” to, my
people,
dying slowly in a forced labor camp.

My joy is like spring, so warm it makes flowers bloom in all
walks of life.
My pain if like a river of tears, so full it fills the four oceans.

Please call me by my true names,
so I can hear all my cries and laughs at once,
so I can see that my joy and pain are one.

Please call me by my true names,
so I can wake up,
and so the door of my heart can be left open,
the door of compassion.

Thich Nhat Hanh

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By Artist Don Gray: Fallen Limb

I am reading a wonderful book called Meeting the Buddhas by Vessantara, and although I’ve read it before, it feels like I’m reading it for the first time.  When I was a wannabe artist I read it from the standpoint of wanting to understand the archetypal imagery used in Tibetan Buddhism and in particular, thangka paintings. Funny thing, that now that I’m actually learning to paint, I’m reading it and it is clarifying the spiritual path I’ve been on for almost (oh, gawd) 30 years.  The author takes you through the meaning of the use of mandalas and visualization in the Vajrayana method of practice and so you go with him on a poetic tour of the mandalas of the Five Buddha Families (which, it turns out, is a map of our own mind).

Much I could share here, but in keeping with the art theme of this blog, I was struck by Ratnasambhava’s mandala, and how it incorporates the arts and beauty as a method for refining the mind; the author speaks of being able to enjoy beauty – in nature, art, music – as a step towards being able to eventually make the leap into the very refined energy of the nature of reality.

I know that I have a busy mind and it is true that when something of beauty registers on my mind, my mind STOPS, at least for a nano second, and relaxes. All meditation teachers tell you that that is quite a feat actually, to relax the mind.  (More about that tomorrow, when I tell you about the other book I’m reading My Stroke of Insight – a brain scientist experiencing her own stroke and how when the mind chatter stopped she had no frame of reference for her-self.)

By Don Gray: Streak of Sun

But back to beauty and simply stopping in the moment and experiencing it. There are different things that will grab each one’s mind as ‘beauty’, and these are two paintings I have seen this week that did it for me.  I don’t want to analyze why these did it for me (although my busy mind certainly WANTS to get right on that); I’d rather just sit and experience the beauty of what the artist has conveyed. I hope they give you a nano second of beauty and relaxation as well.

And then, so as not grasp onto it a “mine”, I offer this beauty to all the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas of the past, present and future as my teachers have taught us to do. May all beings be well, happy, peaceful and prosperous.

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Rob Preece is an excellent author and you would probably enjoy his book as well.

1,000 Armed Buddha of Compassion: Chenresig

Dharma Quote of the Week

The story is told that when Avalokiteshvara, the Buddha of compassion, was looking at the lives of human beings upon this planet, he saw how much pain and suffering we inflict upon each other, and for a moment his compassion faltered. He almost abandoned his vow to liberate us from suffering. At that instant, his body exploded into a thousand pieces, represented in the image of the thousand-armed Avalokiteshvara. If this can happen to the figure who, in Buddhism, most exemplifies compassion, then perhaps we can be forgiven for not always finding it easy to sustain a compassionate heart in the face of so much suffering in the world.

We may live in times when material, economic, and scientific progress is moving at a rate never before seen, yet our capacity to live peacefully alongside each other seems to remain elusive. When confronted with the constant evidence of so much brutality and corruption present in the world, whether this is seen on the news or experienced closer to home, it is common to feel a sense of anger and outrage, and to feel powerless to do anything to change the ignorance, greed, and hatred that motivate most of the atrocities our fellow humans inflict upon each other. Are we, individually or collectively, able to go beyond the dominance of our instinctual selfishness that reaps so much harm?

…Whatever spiritual tradition we may be part of, if we wish to live our lives with greater openness to others, and with the courage and heart to cope with adverse conditions, we have much to learn from the path of the bodhisattva. The bodhisattva, sometimes translated as “the awakening warrior,” dedicates his or her life to the welfare of others and is willing to face the challenges of life to do so. The bodhisattva’s way of life does not lead to a spiritual escape from the reality of the world. Rather, the bodhisattva cultivates the capacity to live within the raw reality of suffering on the ground and transform life’s adverse circumstances into a path of awakening. A bodhisattva makes a clear decision to remain embodied and in relationship to life even while reaching states of awareness that go far beyond our normal reality. Such a person is said to renounce the peace of nirvana and overcome the fear of samsara. What gives this attitude to life a particular significance is that it recognizes that only through fully awakening our innate wholeness can we achieve the greatest benefit to others.

Central to this approach to life is a quality of intention called bodhichitta, often translated as “the awakening mind.” The awakening mind is most often described as the clear, compassionate intention to attain the state of buddhahood for the welfare of all sentient beings. While “the awakening mind” may seem like a relatively simple phrase, its actual psychological, emotional, and social implications are huge. It is a reorientation of the whole of an individual’s direction and meaning in life, rooted in a deep sense of compassion and responsibility towards the welfare of the world.

–from The Courage to Feel: Buddhist Practices for Opening to Others by Rob Preece, published by Snow Lion Publications

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