The Friendly Face

This talk was given at the London Buddhist Centre, Parinirvana Day, February 1994

I gave a talk here on our last Festival day – Sangha day in November 1993. At the beginning of that talk I mentioned that my mother had died a few months previously in August (her photo is on the shrine) and I said that my mother's death had “helped me to realise more deeply and clearly that life is important and significant – not urgent but important – not sombre, serious but important and significant. My mother's death helped me to realise that it was important to live a meaningful life” “My mother's life helped me to realise that it was important to live a meaningful life”. ( Talk, Building the Sangha) That's what I said on Sangha day. It is a very fortunate and auspicious thing to be able to be present at someone's death. We come into direct relationship with one of the incontrovertible facts of existence in a very undeniable way.

Elizabeth Kubler-Ross in her book “On death and dying” outlines various stage that a dying person goes through in relation to the inevitable fact of their death. She says there is...

• a stage of Denial and Isolation
• a stage of Bargaining
• a stage of Depression
• and finally a stage of Acceptance.

Now Dr Kubler -Ross was addressing herself to the difficulty that terminally ill patients have in accepting their situation. But what we have to remind ourselves of perhaps is that there is no such thing as a person who is not dying. It is not the case that only the terminally ill are dying. Most of us are still at the Stage of Denial with regards to dying. It appears to be so far in the future that we maintain the irrational feeling that it won't happen to us. Of course we all know that we will die and that everybody dies but it is rarely a factor that influences how we live our lives. We often ignore the message of Death, not realising that it will only enhance our lives.

Being present at someone else's death is one way that we get a powerful reminder of mortality and impermanence. This can help us to focus on what is important, significant and meaningful in life. This was what happened for me at the time of my mother's death – I was reminded of what was meaningful in life.

What is meaningful? We have our lives to live – life is, as it were, at our disposal. We have our lives in our hands so to speak. It is our life not somebody else's life. We have to live it. Nobody else can do it for us. What is the best thing we can do with it? What should we do with our lives? It would seem fairly obvious that the best thing to do with life is to cherish and enhance it and celebrate it and live it fully and exuberantly. I think it was E M Foster who said that many of us spend our lives preparing to live rather than actually living. (This quote is attributed to both EM Forster And Joseph Campbell “We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us.” )

What does it mean for us to cherish and enhance our lives and live fully? I see it in terms of going beyond our limitations, constantly meeting the challenge of what limits us, what imprisons us, what causes our energy to stagnate, what stifles our joy.

It is possible for us to overcome whatever limits us. This is the great comfort to be gained from the fact of impermanence of which Death is a particularly poignant example. Because of the fact of impermanence it is possible for us to change – it is possible for us to live life more fully and more meaningfully.

How do we go beyond our limitations? Perhaps first we need to consider what it is that limits us. Why do so many people spend life preparing to live rather than living? We could look at it in a number of ways. We could say we are too shy perhaps or too busy or not good enough or other people hold us back or we haven't got enough money. We could perhaps give reasons like this for why we don't live life more fully, why it's not possible to go beyond our limitations.

According to Buddhism, what limits us, what keeps us going round in circles, what keeps us suffering is

• Spiritual Ignorance
• Selfishness
• and Hatred

These three are interlinked. In the Tibetan Wheel of Life, they are depicted as a pig, a snake and a cock al biting each other's tails.

First, spiritual ignorance – this is when we deny the possibility of change and we see ourselves as separate, isolated individuals. In our ignorance we think that we cannot change – perhaps others can but we can't – it's too much for us, we are not up to it. And our ignorance also isolates us from others – we fail to see the interdependence of all sentient beings and live our lives in a prison of our own making. This is also pride.

Hated is our response to not getting what we want or getting what we don't want. It's almost as if we were still children, believing ourselves to be the centre of the universe and everything must happen as we want it to or we throw a tantrum, we hate what- or whoever gets in the way.

And selfishness is obviously also a function of our ignorance – our belief that we are separate, distinct and unconnected to the rest of the life. Selfishness is the belief that something outside ourselves, another person or material objects, can satisfy us and make us happy if we possess them.

Spiritual Ignorance, Selfishness and Hatred sometimes manifest as fear, loneliness, depression, romantic love, cynicism, aggression, arrogance, pride, self-pity, blaming others,indecisiveness, insecurity, putting on a brave face and a host of other states that we get into.

What can we do? How can we go beyond these limitations and learn to live life more fully? We are all dying after all. It would be a shame for us to waste our lives being cynical or lonely or something like that. It wouldn't be a very good use of our opportunity.

To make it easier, I am going to reduce the three limitations to just one – they are all included in each other anyway, all biting at each other anyway. I'm going to suggest that we just deal with one of these limiting factors in our lives. That should be more manageable. I suggest we just look at our selfishness and see what we can do about that – and in doing that we will, I think, make inroads into all our limitations.

Selfishness has been defined by Sangharakshita as “an unwillingness to face new experiences.” (The Religion of Art, p.87. Complete Works, Vol 26) Facing new experiences means going beyond ourselves – rather than thinking 'why me' we can think 'why not'. It means being willing to change, willing to expand beyond what is known, willing to let go of the habitual and comfortable and face into the unknown.

Now the phrase “new experiences” here doesn't refer to going to a new film or eating at a different restaurant. Here we are talking about “new experiences” that have the effect of changing us, of modifying our character. It may be a matter of being more open and honest in our communication, or experiencing our feelings and affections more freely, or facing our fears. For some people it's a new experience to slow down and stop doing things for a while, for others it's a new experience to get up in the morning before 10am.

Facing new experiences then is a matter of trying to go beyond what is habitual for us. We are limited by our habits, by our habitual way of seeing ourselves and others and by facing and engaging with new experiences we get to see ourselves and others in a different light. We go beyond our habits, beyond our limitations.

In Buddhism there are various practices to help us go beyond our limitations – the sum total of these practices is the Dharma. The direction in which these practices lead us - the direction of constant self-transcending or habit-transcending is represented by the Buddha, and all the people who, like ourselves, want to go beyond their limiting habits and selfishness by engaging with these practices, are the Sangha. The aspiration and willingness to overcome our limiting selfishness and transcend our habitual selves by engaging with the Dharma and the Sangha is what Going for Refuge to the three Jewels is about.

We need to consider how we can go beyond our limitations, beyond our habits, in a more specific way. We need to know what it is that can help us face new experiences in a creative manner. We face our experiences in two areas of our lives – which could be termed our internal world and our external world.

Meditation opens up the internal world of new experiences for us. As we meditate over a period of time we are likely to discover things about ourselves that we weren't aware of. We see different aspects of our personality, we find things coming into consciousness that were unconscious and it can take courage to be open to this new experience of ourselves and to acknowledge that we are perhaps different from how we thought we were. Perhaps we are more generous than we give ourselves credit for or more angry than we imagined. Whatever we discover, whatever we see, our task is to acknowledge and integrate, to expand to include our new knowledge. Through communication, ethical practice and reflection we can allow these new experiences to transform our lives.

We encounter new experiences externally in our interactions with the world around us, which in fact often means our interactions with other people. Other people are so so different and we are all changing all the time, so that every encounter with another person is a new experience if we are open to the newness of it.

Whether we meet and face new experiences internally or externally – eventually the transforming effect of these new experiences has to manifest in our behaviour, in our whole being – eventually we have to be transformed, be aware of being transformed and be seen to be transformed. This transformation, this going beyond limitations, this openness to new experiences is manifested very clearly in our practice of the Precepts.

When I spoke on Sangha Day I went into the practice of the precepts in some detail, so I won't do that again today. In fact what I want to suggest today is that the practice of the five precepts can be reduced down to one practice, down to one word in fact, and that is friendliness. The practice of the precepts is essentially a practice of friendliness, growing in time to a practice of friendship. So friendliness is the antidote to Selfishness. Friendliness is the willingness to go beyond limitations, to change, to grow, to be open to new experiences.

It is an act of friendliness to abstain from harming living beings, including ourselves, and to act with loving kindness or metta. It is an act of friendliness not to take anything from others without their consent and to be generous in an open-handed, spontaneous manner.

It is an act of friendliness to refrain form exploiting others sexually and to practice contentment. It is an act of friendliness to refrain from telling lies either actively or by omission and to practice truthfulness at all times. It is an act of friendliness to keep your mind clear, so that you can maintain an awareness of others and a sensitivity to them.

Friendliness and friendship doesn't really exist outside the context of these values and principles. If we do try to live our lives according to the values set out in the five or ten precepts we will experience the great benefit of a clear conscience and a clear conscience enables us to meditate better and also to be generally happier. The more we have a clear conscience the more joy we experience in our lives.

In order to have a clear conscience we need three things

1. We need to get rid of irrational guilt.
2. We need to be willing to confess our unskilfulness
3. We need to try to practice the precepts.

Irrational guilt is a feeling of guilt even when we have done nothing unskilful or regrettable. It's usually connected with feeling that we are being disapproved of by some authority such as a god. People often experience irrational guilt in relation to sexuality. It's not so easy to get rid of irrational guilt – it may be deeply rooted – but we will be doing ourselves a favour if we try to clarify whether any regret or guilt we feel is appropriate or not. It's appropriate to feel regret or shame if we have harmed someone. But it's not appropriate to to feel guilt or shame merely because we have a body and instincts.

It's good for us to try to clarify whether we have acted unskilfully or whether we are just guilt-ridden for no good reason. This might involve rejecting some of the beliefs and assumptions we've held since our childhood indoctrination. It might even involve what Bhante Sangharakshita has called therapeutic blasphemy in his essay Buddhism and Blasphemy.(The Priceless Jewel, p.93. Complete Works, Vol.11) But I won't go into that now.

Assuming that we manage to get clear of the thorny jungle of irrational guilt, then we can deal with our unskilfulness by acknowledging it, confessing it – as in the Puja – and where possible making amends. If we practice like this, if we take seriously the practice of friendliness which is the essence of an ethical life, we will develop a clear conscience and a clear conscience is a prerequisite for joy or happiness. As Subhuti puts it:

“One feels then the inner satisfaction of knowing that there is nothing with which one can reproach oneself. One's conscience is clear and one feels fully at peace with oneself. The fact that one is putting one's aspiration into practice means that one has none of that sense of self-disgust and disappointment that comes from failing to live up to one's ideals.

Not only does one feel happy with oneself but one also feels at ease with others for there is nothing with which they can reproach one. Often our social difficulties arise because of our defensiveness against the blame of others but, in the stage of delight, there is no corner of inconsistency by means of which others can manipulate us. We feel psychologically secure and confident.” (The Buddhist Vision, p158)

A clear conscience also enables us meditate and take our meditation further so that we can begin to knock on the door of Wisdom. Wisdom is the key to spiritual freedom, freedom from greed, hatred and delusion. Through Wisdom we gain Insight into the nature of Reality, how things really are, and we are liberated from floundering in the swamps of ignorance.

Wisdom can be divided into three kinds. There is, firstly, Wisdom based on hearing, or listening, where you simply take in information. You learn from what you hear or read. The second kind of Wisdom is based on Reflection. You reflect on on what you've heard and you make it your own. This is a process of creative thinking. Seeing how what you have learned applies to your life and experience. The third level of Wisdom is the level of Insight into the nature of things as they really are. At this level you are transformed by your insight – your realisation becomes who and what you are.

When we encounter death – when somebody we know dies, we come face to face with one of the basic facts of existence. We come face to face with impermanence. We encounter one of the situations in life that is most likely to precipitate us into Wisdom, into Insight.

What do we do when we meet death? I remember in the Elia Kazan autobiography (He was a famous film director) he talks about some of his friends and acquaintances dying - these were people from the world of films and theatre – and the most common response to dying was anger and rage. (Elia Kazan: A Life) They were ill and dying and angry. This seems a great shame – a great wasted opportunity.

In the Buddhist scriptures we have the story of Kisagotami and her response to the death of her child. She was fortunate enough to meet the Buddha.

“…….at that this moment there came up a young girl carrying a dead baby on her hip. I had seen her when I was last in Savatthi. Her name was Kisa Gotami. She was thin of body and plain of feature, and born of a poor family. She had been treated disdainfully by all, especially by her husband’s family. Then she had borne a son, and people no longer saw her ugly features, but respected her for he boy-child. That was when I had last seen her. Now the child lay dead upon her hip and she was distraught with grief. She told the Master that she had gone from door to door pleading with folk to give her medicine to restore her child to life, but they had all laughed at her. Then one kinder than the others had told her of the Master, saying that he could give her medicine for her child. And that was why she now came. She held forth the child to the Master, and the depth of agony in her eyes made her seem crazed. He looked upon her with deep tenderness and said:

“Sister, go enter the town and bring back a mustard seed; but - it must come from a house where no one yet has died.” The young girl took the dust from his feet and departed with great hope and joy. That evening she returned. “Gotami, have you found the little mustard seed?” he asked. “The work of the little mustard seed has been done,” she answered, and went on to tell him what had happened. She had inquired of the first house for a little mustard seed, which the great Buddha had said would cure her child. The folk there were glad to give her mustard seed, for they felt pity for her. Then she added: “But the mustard seed must be from a house where none has yet died.” Then they of that house said softly: “Who shall say how many have diedhere? Last week the house-mother died here. The dead are many; the living are few.”

“Such mustard seed will then have no virtue,” she said, and departed sorrowfully to a second house, where she was told the same thing, and then to a third, but always they of the house replied: “The dead are many; the living are few.” By evening she knew her quest would have no ending, and the dead child grew heavy on her hip. Suddenly it came to her that it was out of his great compassion the Master had sent her upon this quest that she might find out for herself the first great truth that all must suffer. Her eyes filled with tears that the World Honoured One should seek to help her, even her, the despised and ugly one. She took the dead child and laid him in a charnel field, for she was poor and had no money for cremation. It was late at night when the Master finished teaching Kisa Gotami. He looked across to the city where the lights flickered and were extinguished, as one by one the folk lay down to sleep. Even so, he concluded, as little lights are the lives of men. They flicker for an instant and are gone.” (Marie Beauzeville Byles, Footprints of the Buddha,Quest 1972, p.96/97)

Kisagotami found it impossible to accept that her child had died and the Buddha very gradually showed her that death was a fact of life, and seeing this she was eventually able to accept that her child was dead. For Kisogotami, the death of her child changed her life in more ways than one because she realised the significance of death itself and became the Buddha's disciple – going for Refuge to the Buddha, Dharma and Sangha.

Another more recent story I came across about someone being helped to progress in the spiritual life through an encounter with death was in Golden Drum magazine in 1990. Vessantara was writing about a visit to Northern India. He said:

“Ghoom is a small village crouched on a frequently mist-shrouded ridge, 7,500 feet up in the foothills of the Himalayas. I was there last February, visiting the monastery of the late Dhardo Rimpoche. As I was exploring the dusty nooks of the old monastery, someone rushed in, picked up a conch-shell horn, went out onto the steps and began blowing it. I guessed what that sound sailing into the mist signified: a funeral procession was passing, making its way to the cremation ground on the hillside below the monastery.

I and a friend decided to attend the cremation. We arrived to find a group of about thirty Gurkha men beginning to build a funeral pyre. They were cutting up logs, which were damp from the mist, and placing them on an open structure which looked a little like a small bandstand: circular, with pillars supporting a roof surmounted by a seated Buddha figure.

Eventually the pyre was finished, and the men added incense, to mitigate the effects of the tyres (which were supplementing the pyre). They carried the body from a low building where it had lain, removed the coffin, and hefted the corpse on the pyre. Then they gathered in a circle, and we were invited to to join them. From my new vantage point I could see that the deceased was an old man, of the typically wiry Gurkha build. He was dressed in a cheap clothes – none of the men looked as if they had much money.

Four men took burning brands and circumambulated the body three times, then they plunged them into the damp wood. It took some time for the fire to take hold, but eventually there was a good blaze.

From being outsiders, my friend and I gradually became guests of honour. Someone appeared with metal cups of sweet milk tea, which we were offered. We were then ushered to the best seats – a log laid on the ground within three feet of the pyre.

The wind was blowing down from Kachenjunga, and we all huddled around the fire for warmth. I sat in the midst of the crowd, warming my hands by the fire, chatting with the Gurkhas, amongst whom were several children. It was a merry blaze, and welcome. A friendly and convivial occasion. As I stretched my hands to the fire again and again, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

And yet, part of my mind insisted, it was incongruous to be happily warming myself when, within touching distance, the body of an old man was being consumed by the flames. Between mouthfuls of tea, I could watch the skull blackening, note how the flesh on the limbs was being burnt away to the bone. Ghosts from my Western Christian upbringing kept whispering to me in the wind. This was Death I was facing, the great mystery, the fear of all fears.

I consulted my body and feelings for my “gut reaction”. “No”, they replied, “what is happening is simply natural, another part of life, something very human and ordinary, just like drinking tea, joking with friends, or sheltering from a cold wind”. With that awareness,, I felt a fear fall away from me, a fear of whose existence I had hardly been aware. I felt a fear fall away from me, a fear of whose existence I had hardly been aware.” (Golden Drum magazine,1990)

Sangharakshita says in the Religion of Art, that all fear is fear of death. If we can really overcome our fear of death there is nothing left to fear. Fear is often what holds us back on the spiritual path, what prevents us form overcoming our limitations, going beyond our habits, rising out of our crouched position of selfishness and strolling forth in friendliness to meet the world. An encounter with death can be a great opportunity in our lives, an opportunity to face the source of all our fears, an opportunity to attain a realisation of the fact of impermanence and even perhaps to have an insight into Reality itself.

At the outset of this talk I mentioned that I had been present at my mother's death last August and that it had an effect on me of reminding me of the value of living a meaningful and worthwhile life – perhaps that's one of the reasons why I'm talking to you now by the way – following on from that, I asserted that to live a meaningful life meant living life more fully and overcoming our limitations and habits. I said that our basic limitations are spiritual ignorance, selfishness and hatred. I suggested that since these three are very much interlinked, we could concentrate on one, namely Selfishness and try to work with that.I went on to say that observing the precepts was an antidote to selfishness and that in essence observing the precepts was a practice of friendliness.

I said that Selfishness had been defined as an unwillingness to face new experiences

ie. experiences which have the effect of changing us and that Friendliness on the other hand takes us beyond ourselves into a new experience. I went on to say that if we lived our lives according to the values of the precepts, if we practised Friendliness we would be likely to have a clear conscience and to experience some happiness in our lives. This I said would be a basis for taking our meditations further and also for taking our reflections further, so that we might catch more and more glimpses of how things really are.

This is also the best basis from which to face the experience of death, whether our own or someone else's. With a clear conscience and the knowledge that we have endeavoured to live a meaningful life we can meet our death with acceptance rather than denial or anger. We can be helpful to others at the time of their death. If we practice friendliness in our lives we will be met by friendliness and a the end of our lives even Death will show us a friendly face.

I'll finish now with a title story form Glen Mullins book Death and Dying (p26). It's another story from India.

“One year in Bodh Gaya the Dalai Lama gave a week of teachings and initiations, and over 100,000 people came from the various Himalayan kingdoms. Babies were born in this time, and several old people died. One night I saw an old man sitting under a tree. He sat in peace and serenity, quietly sayings his prayers and rejoicing in his good fortune at having made it to the holy place of Bodh Gaya at such an auspicious time. He looked over at the group I was with and beamed us an enormous smile. A few minutes later he leaned his back against the tree and, still sitting in the meditation posture, passed away. His face expressed perfect contentment.”

The Ideals of Right Livelihood

This talk was given at a men's Regional Order weekend June 1993

Right livelihood has been part of the Buddha's teaching from the very beginning. According to tradition the first discourse the Buddha gave was to the five men who had previously been his companions in a life of ascetic hardship. That discourse was on the four noble truths, the fourth of which, as you know, is the noble eightfold path, which includes Right Livelihood. Right Livelihood was part of the Dharma from the very first words

That's just by way of setting the scene so to speak. Right Livelihood is an important aspect of the Buddha's teaching because it is part of the noble eightfold path, part of the four noble truths, a fundamental feature of the middle way. The traditional definitions of right Livelihood are given negatively, I.e. they say what you shouldn't do, in other words, they are definitions of wrong livelihood.

Wrong livelihood according to the Majjhima Nikaya is: “to practise deceit,treachery,soothsaying,trickery and usury” (MN 117) and according to the Anguttara Nikaya : “ Five trades should be avoided by a disciple – trading in arms,in living beings, in flesh, in intoxicating drinks and in poison.”(AN 5:177) Bhante Sangharakshita has taken these definitions somewhat further by stating very positively that Perfect Livelihood represents “the need to create an ideal society”.

My own involvement with right livelihood and indeed with the Triratna Buddhist Community is based on a very strong response to this idea of creating an ideal society. I and probably many of you have wanted to change the world ever since I was a teenager. In my late teens and early twenties I worked in offices in London. What I came to realise then was that I did not want to work for money. I did not want to make providing for the future a central task in my life. I wanted to to live my life now, in the present and I wanted it to have meaning beyond the accumulation of wealth and possessions. When I was working at one firm of accountants just off Fleet St., I saw an old man retire who had spent his whole life with the company. After he left, he used to come back very frequently and hang around and nobody had much time for him. I was twenty one at the time and I took that old man's sad plight as a warning. When I was twenty two, I gave up my budding career in accountancy and decided to devote myself to finding some meaning in life. That's a decision I have never regretted. Some years later I found myself in West Berlin and began to meet people with a somewhat similar outlook on life or at least with similar questions. There I and some friends started to publish a small magazine. Our intention was to get a project going that would disseminate our ideas, provide us with a living and eventually develop into a total lifestyle with us living and working together. It didn't succeed for a number of reasons but as far as I was concerned it wasn't a complete failure because I gained some valuable experience and learned a lot about myself and other people. I was not totally disillusioned by my experience because there were in Berlin at that time some very successful projects where people were living and working together and trying to develop lifestyles different from those which were conventionally acceptable. Some of these alternative communities are still going strong. (in 1993)

The idea of people living and working together with some sort of values beyond the accumulation of money and property was one familiar to me before I came across Buddhism or the Triratna Community. I had also developed some ideas about what a venture needed in order to succeed. In particular it was obvious to me from my experience with the magazine that people needed to have shared ideals.

I discovered Buddhism in 1983 and shortly after that I found myself in Dublin with hardly enough money to live on. I came across the Alternative London directory and reading through the section on Buddhism I found right livelihood mentioned in connection with the Triratna Community. I came to London in 1984 and decided to contact Triratna and get involved in Right Livelihood. It was not to be. When I turned up at the centre I was given a leaflet about the centre's activities and told about how people got involved gradually. I looked at the leaflet when I got home and put it away because I didn't feel the need for a meditation class and anyway I couldn't afford it, my income and expenditure were running neck and neck at the time. However some months later I picked up “Buddhism for Today” by Subhuti at Swiss Cottage library and was very struck by what I read. Especially what I read about the New society. This was what I had been groping towards for years and here there were people putting it into practice in London.

I decided without further ado to get involved with Triratna. So Right Livelihood was important to me before I got involved with Triratna both in the ethical sense highlighted by the traditional definitions and in the idealistic sense put forward by Bhante.

Now when I joined Friends Foods Health Food shop in 1988 the ideal that I had before my mind was that which is exemplified in the Culagosinga Sutta. To refresh your memory here it is: “Thus have I heard. On one occasion the Blessed One was living at Nadika in the Brick House. Now on that occasion venerable Anuruddha, venerable Nandiya and the venerable Kimbila were living at the Park of the Gosinga Sala-tree Wood. In the evening, the Blessed One rose from meditation and went to the Park of the Gosinga Sala-tree Wood. The park keeper saw the Blessed One coming in the distance and told him: "Do not enter this park, recluse. There are three respectable people here seeking their own good. Do not disturb them."

Venerable Anuruddha heard the park keeper speaking to the Blessed One and told him: "Friend park keeper, do not keep the Blessed One out. It is our Teacher, the Blessed One, who has come." Then venerable Anuruddha called out to venerable Nandiya and venerable Kimbila to meet the Blessed One. One took his bowl and outer robe, one prepared a seat, and one set out water for washing the feet. The Blessed One sat down on the seat made ready and washed his feet. Then those three venerable ones paid homage to the Blessed One and sat down at one side. When they were seated, the Blessed One said to them: "I hope you are all keeping well, Anuruddha, I hope you are all comfortable, I hope you are not having any trouble getting alms food." They replied: "We are keeping well, Blessed One, we are comfortable, and we are not having any trouble getting alms food." Buddha: "I hope, Anuruddha, that you are all living in concord, with mutual appreciation, without disputing, blending like milk and water, viewing each other with kindly eyes."

Anurruddha: "Surely, venerable sir, we are living in concord, with mutual appreciation, without disputing, blending like milk and water, viewing each other with kindly eyes."
Buddha: "But, Anuruddha, how do you live thus?"
Anuruddha: "Venerable sir, as to that, I think thus 'It is a gain for me, it is a great gain for me, that I am living with such companions in the holy life.' I maintain bodily acts/verbal acts and mental acts of loving-kindness towards those venerable ones both openly and privately. I consider: 'Why should I not set aside what I wish to do and do what these venerable ones wish to do?' Then I set aside what I wish to do and do what these venerable ones wish to do. We are different in body, venerable sir, but one in mind." The venerable Nandiya and the venerable Kimbila each spoke likewise.

Buddha: "Good, good, Anuruddha. I hope that you all abide diligent, ardent, and resolute."
They replied: "Surely, venerable sir, we abide diligent, ardent, and resolute."
Buddha: "But, Anuruddha, how do you abide thus?"
Anuruddha: "Venerable sir, as to that, whichever of us returns first from the village with alms food prepares the seats, sets out the water for drinking and for washing, and puts the refuse bucket in its place. Whichever of us returns last eats any food left over, if he wishes; otherwise he throws it away where there is no greenery or drops it into water where there is no life. He puts away the seats and the water for drinking and for washing. He puts away the refuse bucket after washing it and he sweeps out the refectory. Whoever notices that the pots of water for drinking, washing, or the latrine are low or empty takes care of them. If they are too heavy for him, he calls someone else by a signal of the hand and they move it by joining hands, but because of this we do not break out into speech. But every five days we sit together all night discussing the Dhamma. That is how we abide diligent, ardent, and resolute." (MN 31& 128)

This was what I wanted to experience, to live and work with people in such harmony that we all felt of one mind, “as friendly and undisputing as milk and water”. That was what I wanted Friends Foods to be like. This meant developing trust and generosity. This is what seemed the most important aspect of team-based right livelihood to me. If we are to change the the world we have to change ourselves and change the way we relate to the people in our immediate vicinity. This is, to say the least, a tall order.

Right livelihood is an essential part of the Buddha's teaching because it touches on a fundamental and even instinctual aspect of human activity. It is second only in significance to sexual activity as an area of our lives that requires transformation but resists it. Sexual activity is a manifestation of instinct. Livelihood also partakes of instinct, the instinct of survival, preserving life.

Where our instincts are involved our emotions are involved and where our emotions are so strongly involved we have the greatest difficulty bringing consciousness to our decisions, attitudes, views, opinions etc. We may, for instance, believe we are being perfectly sensible when we talk about sexual relations but often we are not. Similarly, in the area of livelihood, the pursuit of the means of physical comfort and security. We may believe we have perfectly pragmatic and sensible attitudes but undoubtedly a lot of factors will be involved which we are not aware of. Sex and money are concerned with security - to put it another way, sex and property are the barricades that humanity tries to erect before the forces of death and decay. Sex and property are attempts to thwart the law of impermanence. But life cannot be thwarted. We need to bring our understanding and practice in the areas of both sexuality and livelihood more and more into line with the facts of life, especially the fact of impermanence.

For me the main implication of this is that work must have meaning. It must help forward my spiritual practice. Work must create the conditions for the growth of the Sangha. It must be based on generosity rather than greed. It must be based on co-operation rather than power, on trust rather than competition. Work that has meaning beyond itself is work that recognises the central importance of spiritual principles in the lives of individuals, and in the life of society as a whole. Work that is meaningful is work that recognises the importance of the growth and development of individuals in wisdom and compassion as a major contribution to the civilisation of humanity.

To rely on working to earn money to provide security now and in old age is fine so far as material well-being is concerned. Material well-being is a relatively unimportant consideration for a Buddhist in this affluent society. Even the poorest among us is wealthy by the standards of real poverty and starvation. What we have to concern ourselves with is the spiritual well-being of ourselves and the world we live in - “the sleeping sickness of the soul” as Hillary Clinton has called it. (1993 speech on 'the politics of meaning') What most people lack in this society is not bread or shelter or clothing, it is meaning. Meaningless lives are not rendered more meaningful by a greater consumption of goods and services. In fact the opposite is probably the case. For any life to have meaning there has to be a focus on systematically growing and developing in the direction of greater wisdom and compassion.

Therefore, in our work, in our pursuit of livelihood, we need to have this focus on the development of wisdom and compassion as central as possible. My experience has led me to believe that this is best achieved in the company of others who share a similar ideal. In other words, I firmly believe that team-based right livelihood is the best way to give meaning and substance to our working lives. The reasons for his are more to do with the need for Sangha than with any economic factors. The Dharma lives in the Sangha, it takes flesh in the Sangha, it is given expression in the Sangha and the Sangha at work is the Dharma at work. The importance of team-based right livelihood then is that it helps to create, nurture, and strengthen the Sangha.

Working together we learn to co-operate, co-operating we learn how to trust each other, trusting one another we learn how to be kind and generous, being kind and generous we go beyond ourselves. Going beyond ourselves we move nearer to the wisdom of interconnectedness and the consequent release of metta and compassion. The only worthwhile reason to engage in team-based right livelihood is to move closer to our ideals.

Having enthused about team-based right livelihood, I would like to add a rider. I don't think everyone is suitable for team-based right livelihood. I know that some people find it extremely difficult to work in teams. I know that some people feel so insecure about money that being on a low wage would cause them a lot of stress. I know that some people are so cynical about ideals that being in a team-based right livelihood would only afford them endless opportunities for reaction. And some people have vocations - for example, artists, doctors, teachers. (Maybe these could be teams?) I don't think everybody is suitable for team-based right livelihood. I do think that team-based right livelihood is suitable for everyone though.

Just as, for instance, the Dana economy is the ideal and the most suitable way for the Triratna Order to manage its affairs but is not practical because the Order or at least some Order members are not able to join in with it, so also with team-based right livelihood. It is suitable for everybody but everybody is not suitable for it. It requires a substantial level of idealism and maturity to be able to wholeheartedly engage, day in day out, with the same people doing the same things and still maintain a wide enough perspective to remain inspired.

I would like to go now to look at the three aims of team-based right livelihood. These are: to provide a means of support for the workers; to provide an experience of Kalyana Mitrata;to give away money

The first aim of team-based right livelihood is to provide financial support for the workers. The principle here as you all know is “give what you can, take what you need”. In the past in many co-ops there was very little money and this often led to arguments and harshness in the area of meeting people's financial needs. This is a self-perpetuating sort of situation. If people's emotional needs are not being met, if they do not experience friendliness, kindness, trust, love, then often they will look to whatever money can buy to meet their needs. In other words, people's financial needs increase if their emotional needs are not being satisfied. Security must be found somewhere. We are not able to stand unprotected before the monster of impermanence.

The first aim of team-based right livelihood is intimately connected with the second and the third. The support provided by friendship and the satisfaction gained through being able to give generously are important factors in having a happy team that doesn't rely too much on financial reward and doesn't want to work part-time. The simple life is easier to lead if we have friends who obviously care for us and if we can see some positive fruits from our actions.

The second aim of team-based right livelihood is to create the conditions which are conducive to spiritual progress or, in other words, to provide an experience of Kalyana Mitrata. This brings us back to the story from the Culagosinga Sutta. What we are aiming at in team-based right livelihood is to be able to function as one mind, co-operating and trusting to the extent that our working life is a pleasure, a shared activity of friends constantly supporting and helping each other in a spirit of generosity. I said earlier that the story in the Culagosinga Sutta was an ideal and an inspiration to me when I first joined Friends Foods. I am pleased to say that I feel we have made great progress in Friends Foods in actualising this second aim of team-based right livelihood, providing an experience of Kalyana Mitrata. There is a strong spirit of friendliness, generosity, trust and helpfulness between us and it has grown over the years. The main factors involved in building this have been: spending time together; an emphasis on trust – e.g .people's financial needs are what they say they are; a willingness to accommodate differences of personality; the presence of Order Members effectively going for refuge

The third aim of team-based right livelihood is to help finance Buddhist activities. Of course it has to be said that team-based right livelihood in the sense that I have been talking about it is itself a Buddhist activity and therefore re-investment is helping to finance Buddhist activities. Also a residential community of Buddhists is a Buddhist activity and therefore paying the bills in a residential community is helping to finance a Buddhist activity. Beyond that there is teaching, Karuna Trust projects, retreat centres – all of which team-based right livelihood helps to finance either directly or indirectly. Directly through donations and indirectly through using the facilities. The principle behind this third aim of team-based right livelihood is the principle of generosity, of going beyond self. The whole function of team-based right livelihood as envisioned by Bhante Sangharakshita, namely the transformation of society, requires a going beyond self.

In the first aim of team-based right livelihood this is represented by “give what you can”. In the second aim aim, it's in the friendship and tolerance. And in the third aim, we go beyond ourselves by giving away some of the financial fruits of our labour. This is how team-based right livelihood unites the ideals of wisdom and compassion in a very practical way and sets us firmly on the path to further growth through our everyday work, by transforming our greed for possessions, our hatred of others as manifested in competitiveness and our delusion shown by our attempts to secure ourselves against decay and death.

Team-based right livelihood helps us to change greed into generosity by encouraging us to work for something other than financial reward and by encouraging us to give away some of the profit we do accumulate. It helps us overcome and transform our hatred by throwing us into a close relationship with others which demands co-operation and trust and a willingness to let go of some of our dearly held views and opinions. And team-based right livelihood helps us to confront our delusions by focusing on meaning in the working day rather than on money.

The further we drift from what is truly meaningful, the more painful we will find team-based right livelihood and the closer we come to what is meaningful and important in life the more enjoyable and satisfying is our experience of team-based right livelihood. In fact the closer we are to having a perspective that is freer from delusions the more we realise that team-based right livelihood is more than just a job, more than just a business. It is in fact a very practical and even relatively easy way to progress towards Insight.

Stillness, Simplicity and Contentment

This talk was given at Guhyaloka Retreat Centre in Spain during my ordination retreat in 1988

Sex, is not the theme of my talk. Even though the title, Stillness, Simplicity and Contentment comes form the positive formulation of the third precept, which, as you all know, in its negative formulation is concerned with abstaining form sexual misconduct, I am not going to be talking about sex. I am not even going to talk directly about the third precept. I'm simply going to talk about the qualities of stillness, simplicity and contentment. I'm going to distinguish between them and also look at how we can develop these qualities and having looked at each in turn I will finish with an image, a unifying image.

To start with then, what is Stillness? Perhaps we can approach this best by looking at its opposite. The opposite of stillness is turbulence or turmoil. Here at Guhyaloka Retreat Centre we've experienced nature at her most turbulent and also at her stillest, sometimes in a very short space of time. The contrast between the two, between turbulence and stillness, has been made obvious to us. So perhaps we can easily relate this contrast to our minds. We can imagine more easily perhaps the mental state of stillness, when we consider it in relation to its opposite – turbulence and turmoil. A turbulent mind is an unquiet mind, a troubled mind, a mind in conflict.

Sometimes our minds may be turbulent because we are anxious, for instance, about whether we are ready for ordination, or our minds may be in turmoil because of an unresolved conflict with someone or again we may have done something we regret, something unskilful. Whatever the reason for it, often we find that our minds are unquiet; perhaps not blowing up a full storm of hail and gale but at least blustery.

Whatever is troubling us there is always one sure way of alleviating our difficulty, one sure way of gaining some degree of calm, one sure way of stilling the storm in our minds for a while. And that is, communication or if necessary, confession.

I'll just give a couple of examples from my own experience to illustrate this point, to illustrate how communication or confession can help us to bring back a certain stillness to our minds. Just before the retreat I was having some difficulties in my relationship with my girlfriend and I'd forgotten all about it when travelling through Spain to arrive here, but on the second or third day here, one of my morning meditations was completely taken over by thoughts about my relationship and my mind was tumbling round in circles trying to understand or resolve what was going on. That morning after breakfast I went for a walk with Alain and told him what had been going through my mind and as I talked it became clear to me what was going on, my mind was put at ease and I haven't had that distraction since. Sometimes just talking about something that's troubling us can take the burden off our minds.

A slightly different example from my own experience occurred when I was on solitary retreat at Osel Ling in the south of Spain last year. Before going on retreat I filled in a holiday form for the Department of Health and Social Security but I didn't tell them I was going to Spain. So I had done something which was not only illegal but also unethical. I had lied in order to continue receiving dole money while I was on retreat. About two weeks into the retreat I began to feel very guilty about this and it disrupted my meditation practice. So this time, not having anybody about to talk to I used the confession section of the Puja as an offloading point for my burden. I just brought it to mind in the context of the puja and then let go of it and once more I felt a lot better afterwards. A clear conscience is a pre-requisite for a calm mind. And the best way to have a clear conscience, apart from always acting, thinking and speaking skilfully, is to communicate and where necessary to confess.

Communication is essential in achieving calmness of mind. A calm mind is a still mind. Communication and letting go of what's troubling us can lead to stillness. And the significance of stillness can perhaps be best illuminated by quoting from Bhante Sangharakshita's essay on “Pauses and Empty Spaces” from “Crossing the Stream” : “As music is born of silence, and derives its significance therefrom; and as a painting is born of empty space, and derives its significance therefrom; so are our lives born of silence, of stillness, of quietude of spirit and derive their significance, their distinctive flavour and individual quality, therefrom.” (Crossing The Stream, p.95)

And that brings us to simplicity for here again I will quote from Bhante in “Crossing the Stream”. This time from his essay on “The Simple Life”: “The truly simple life glows with significance, for its simplicity is not the dead simplicity of a skeleton but the living simplicity of a flower or a great work of art.” (ibid, p.93) The living simplicity of a flower. What is this simplicity then? It is the simplicity of paring away whatever is not essential. It is the simplicity of doing one thing at a time. It is the simplicity born of mindfulness. The simplicity of the Japanese poet, Ryokan when he speaks of: 

“The bamboo grove in front of my hut:

Every day I see it a thousand times

Yet never tire of it.”

(One Robe, One Bowl, trans, Stevens, p.66)

Mindfulness is the key to simplicity. Through mindfulness we can achieve a simplicity of body, by attending to one thing at a time; a simplicity of mind, by being aware of the hubbub of thoughts and doing something about them; and a simplicity of speech by cutting down on the unnecessary gabble that sometimes passes for conversation.

The simplicity we achieve through greater mindfulness can lead us to an appreciation of beauty and consequently to greater creativity. Ryokan never tired of his bamboo grove although he saw it a thousand times a day, because he was mindful and because he was mindful he didn't see the same bamboo grove, but a beautiful, ever-changing process. He saw his bamboo grove creatively. Bamboos or flowers or works of art are not intrinsically beautiful. We confer beauty on them by regarding them with our eye of beauty, by seeing them imaginatively, by engaging creatively with them. And this we cannot do unless we are mindful, unless we appreciate the simple, unostentatious things of life. For so often the beautiful is very closely allied to the simple. We might even go so far as to say that simplicity and beauty are synonymous and both are one with the truth. If truth is beauty and beauty is truth, then likewise, simplicity is truth, and truth is simplicity.

This has been recognised by great poets and scientists. For instance, Heisenberg, the Atomic Physicist who developed the uncertainty principle, wrote in a letter to Einstein: “You may object that by speaking of simplicity and beauty I am introducing aesthetic criteria of truth, and I frankly admit that I am strongly attracted by the simplicity and beauty of the mathematical schemes which nature presents us. You must have felt this too, the almost frightening simplicity and wholeness of the relationship, which nature suddenly spreads out before us.” (Why Beauty is Truth. Ian Stewart)

Simplicity then is born of mindfulness and out of simplicity can come an appreciation of the world about us that enhances our lives and leads to great happiness. I will give the last word on simplicity to Ryokan who was an extraordinary exemplar of the simple life:

“My hut lies in the middle of the forest;

Every year the green ivy grows longer.

No news of the affairs of men,

Only the occasional song of a woodcutter.

The sun shines and I mend my robe;

When the moon comes out I read Buddhist poems.

I have nothing to report, my friends.

If you want to find the meaning, stop chasing after so many things.”

(One Robe, One Bowl, trans, Stevens, p.43)

Ryokan not only led a very simple life but also seems to have been remarkably contented. Here is another of his poems:

“After spending the day begging in town,

I now sit peacefully under a cliff in the evening cool.

Alone, with one robe and one bowl -

The life of a Zen monk is truly the best.”

(ibid, p.34)

This brings us to contentment. Contentment is based on acceptance. Acceptance of oneself as one is. Acceptance of others as they are. Acceptance of the environment as it is. Acceptance does not mean stultification or complacency. It is rather the basis of growth; the nurturing soil in which the seeds of growth are planted. As Vessantara pointed out recently, when the weather was a trifle unpleasant, there is no point in complaining and railing against the wind and the rain. It is far better to just accept the weather as it is and by so doing alter our relationship with it, perhaps even to such an extent that we can enjoy it and be contented with it.

Dissatisfaction comes of not wanting to experience what we are experiencing, for example, inclement weather; or wanting to continue to experience what we enjoy, wanting to hold on to it. As we've seen in the case of the weather, sometimes simply by accepting what we consider to be unpleasant, we can alter our experience of it radically. The same applies to ourselves. If we don't like aspects of our personality or behaviour, by first of all accepting them, we can come to change them, if they need changing. By accepting ourselves we are able to make a statement “this is me, this is what I'm like” and on the basis of that we can decide what to change and what to encourage. If we don't accept ourselves then we are saying “this is not me” and therefore we leave ourselves with nothing to change. No soil, no seed and no growth.

Wanting to hold on to what we enjoy or even desperately trying to repeat an enjoyable experience also leads to dissatisfaction. Sometimes when people get involved in the spiritual life they seek the answer to this difficulty in cutting out all enjoyment. They confuse enjoyment with attachment and try to banish pleasure, like St Patrick is reputed to have banished the snakes. But, of course, this is a case of cutting off your nose to spite your face. The answer is not to banish enjoyment. To quote Roberto Assagioli, the founder of the Psychosynthesis school of psychology: “The radical approach is to enjoy more. If you enjoy a fruit, enjoy all kinds of fruit. If you enjoy everything, you get attached to nothing, because you pass from one enjoyment to another. You pass from the enjoyment of a fruit to the enjoyment of a book, to the enjoyment of a starry sky. If you appreciate everything, you remain free. And if you feel the desire for something which is not opportune for several reasons or because you cannot get it, turn to enjoying something else. There is always something to enjoy.” (What We May Be, Piero Ferucci) 

Dissatisfaction, of course, is the opposite of contentment and contentment as I said earlier is based on acceptance. Our main practice for developing this acceptance is the Metta Bhavana meditation. Metta and contentment are intrinsically linked. Bhante Sangharakshita has said that Metta is the lifeblood of our Order. Well, if Metta is the lifeblood then contentment is the complexion. And when the lifeblood is clean and flowing freely the complexion is healthy and beautiful. A contented Sangha, is a Sangha full of Metta, and a Sangha full of Metta is a living vital Sangha.

Contentment is often thought of in the popular imagination as a state of passivity. The contented cat lying on a rug licking the cream from its lips. Or a man in an armchair, lying comatose after his Christmas dinner. These are popular images of Contentment. But Contentment is actually active. As we've seen earlier, dissatisfaction comes form merely reacting to ones experience. In order to be content we have to be creative. We have to respond creatively to our experience. Contentment is a very creative state. To be content is to be creative.

Now we've looked at Stillness, which we saw to consist of a clear conscience and a calm mind based on communication and confession, and we've looked at Simplicity, which grows out of mindfulness and gives an appreciation of beauty and lastly, we have seen that Contentment is based on acceptance, which is developed in the Metta Bhavana practice and it is essentially creative.

I have come to associate these three, Stillness, Simplicity and Contentment, with the Buddha, Dharma and Sangha respectively. The figure of the Buddha has come to represent the qualities of calmness, tranquillity or stillness for people all over the world, who know little or nothing about Buddhism. And of course the Dharma is simplicity itself. As Bodhidharma said to the Chinese emperor, ““cease to do evil, learn to do good, purify the heart” that is the teaching of the Buddha.” So simple. And we've already seen how the Sangha is imbued with contentment.

Here in this valley where we've all come to strengthen our Going for Refuge to the Buddha, Dharma and Sangha, there is a beautiful spring with water gushing from three spouts, tumbling joyously into a stream. When I reflected on this, I couldn't help associating these three clear, cool streams of water with the Buddha, Dharma and Sangha. The Buddha of stillness, the Dharma in its simplicity and the contented Sangha, bursting forth from the rocks of Samsara to form a beautiful clean flowing stream. And it is into this stream we dive, into this stream we plunge, when we go for refuge. And if we continue to follow this stream, through rocks and gorse, over frightening falls, through sylvan woods and by lovely pastures, we will eventually come to the greater freedom, of the strong flowing river of the Aryasangha, where the current will carry us inexorably towards the deep and mighty ocean. The great ocean of Enlightenment, of Buddhahood. The unfathomable ocean of Nirvana.