The Vajra Parrot Squawks!

Link to 'Thangkas by Tashi' Facebook page

Thangkas are a Himalayan art form depicting Buddhas and meditational figures on canvas, which can be rolled up and transported more easily than a metal or clay statue.

I'm taking this opportunity to highlight the artwork of my friend Tsering Tashi, a promising young Tibetan Thangka artist living in South India. Tashi was trained for several years and has worked on many different assignments and private commissions.

Like so many Tibetans in exile, it can be very difficult to find any meaningful livelihood in India, so when someone like Tashi demonstrates real talent and integrity it is something worth promoting.

Please visit his Facebook page and see a small selection of his work - some of which I commissioned myself for use in retreat. Even better, why not commission something yourself? This not only helps preserve and disseminate Tibetan culture, but is also a source of merit and something that can be used to enrich your practice or just beautify your home. He's a friendly guy and will be happy to answer any questions you may have.

He hopes to have a website up and running soon (any help appreciated, btw!). I wish him every success.

"As a mother would risk her life
to protect her child, her only child,
even so should one cultivate a limitless heart
with regard to all beings.

With good will for the entire cosmos,
cultivate a limitless heart:
Above, below, & all around,
unobstructed, without hostility or hate.

Whether standing, walking,
sitting, or lying down,
as long as one is alert,
one should be resolved on this mindfulness.

This is called a sublime abiding
here & now."

- Buddha
Karaniya Metta Sutta

The Philosopher Heraclitus taught us that, despite our best efforts, it is impossible to step into the same river twice, the explanation being that the substance of the river we see with our eyes is changing ceaselessly. With every passing molecule of water that speeds by, the river becomes a different entity - what we perceive as a river is actually no more than the movement of water under the bridge.

How then, can we be sure of anything, if the very foundation of our world, like a river, is in a constant process of flux and movement? Although fascinating, this problem of Greek philosophy is not my primary concern. The issue of constant change and impermanence most certainly is, however.

Like the river that vexed Heraclitus, we are different entitities from one moment to the next. Maybe we look the same, but on a molecular level things are different. Try as we might, when youth gives way to wrinkles, there's precious little we can do to stop the changeing of our bodies and appearance. We can go under the knife, inject ourselves with botox, or smear ourselves with all manner of lotions and potions, but we're really just kidding ourselves and putting off the inevitable: the relentless crawl into old age and, eventually, death.

All things we think, or see, or hold dear are subject to change. All are impermanent. However, we seem to just not be able to accept it.

The reality of impermanence is something we shun, particularly in the West. We don't like change, we go to great lengths to hide the ageing process from ourselves and those around us, we even keep the reality of death locked away, in sanitised rooms, far away from the family and the home, when one of our relatives or friends breathes their last. Impermanence, ageing, death are the last taboos, it seems, neuroses which dog our waking moments and actually compromise the quality of our lives.

If you think about it, really think about it, this is all rather weird, isn't it? We know that we're shuffling forwards towards certain extinction, along with all those we know, love or dislike, yet we constantly, impotently, try to push the reality away. We expend huge 'life calories' in maintaining this struggle. Whether we bury it in rituals and superstition, refuse to accept it for what it is, or pretend that it only happens to other people, the process is futile.

Today most of the Hindu shops here in Ghoom are closed to commemorate the passing of India's premier Hindu teacher, Satya Sai Baba. Although his life was dogged with many allegations of corruption and wrongdoing, he was almost universally revered by Indians and many others throughout the world. The passing of this 'god-man' is a very salient reminder that, whatever or whoever we claim to be, whether high or low, rich or poor, good or bad, we all share the same common denominator. We're all mortal. We will all die, and some of us sooner than others. There is no escaping this fundamental fact.

This raises a more important question.

Death's noose is pulling ever tighter around our necks and our time is running out. What are we doing to make what's left of it meaningful?

Are we to carry the emotional burdens of enemies, frustrations, broken relationships, petty concerns, jealousies, unrequited loves ad nauseam all the way to the grave... or are we going to stop, look at how these things are actually spoiling the quality of our lives now, let go of them, and move forward, positively?

With our eyes fixed squarely on the crematorium, or a hole in some deserted churchyard or municipal cemetery, life's little hindrances and petty concerns begin to lose their grip. If we look on Death in this way, He's actually more of a friend than an enemy: he helps us to prioritise, to let go and to live more fully in the present, free from the shackles which hold us back and impair our chances of living.

Maybe it's time to start making something positive of our lives now, maybe even grateful that our new-found friend is there, reminding us to shed what needs to be shed and to embrace what needs to be embraced and forgive what needs to be forgiven.

Something positive doesn't necessarily mean something 'successful', I hasten to add.

Many 'successful' people often have very meaningless, empty lives, and merely chase their own tails from one day to the next in the pursuit of money or prestige whilst the grains in the eternal sand clock pour out into infinity without their even being aware of it. What's the point of that? How is this worthy of emulation or admiration?

By positive I mean happy. Happy people are actually the successful people walking on the surface of this planet, whether they're rich or poor, popular or unpopular, healthy or sick.

May all sentient beings have happiness and its causes and have the courage to assess their priorities and move forward.

"An affectionate disposition not only makes the mind more peaceful
and calm, but it affects our body in a positive way too. On the
other hand, hatred, jealousy and fear upset our peace of mind, make
us agitated and affect our body adversely. Even our body needs peace
of mind and is not suited to agitation. This shows that an
appreciation for peace of mind is in our blood.

Just as we should cultivate more gentle and peaceful relations with
our fellow human beings, we should also extend that same kind of
attitude towards the natural environment. Morally speaking, we
should be concerned for our whole environment.

This, however, is not just a question of morality or ethics, but
also a question of our own survival. For this generation and for
future generations, the environment is very important. If we exploit
the environment in extreme ways, we may receive some benefit today,
but in the long run, we will suffer, as will our future generations.
When the environment changes, the climatic condition also changes.
When the climate changes dramatically, the economy and many other
things change. Our physical health will be greatly affected. Again,
conservation is not merely a question of morality, but a question of
our own survival."

As most people will have gathered, I am now once more in India, and shall be here for some time.

I was having a relaxed conversation with a fellow Western monk a week or so back when 'the incident' happened. We were in a grimy little shack outside the Tibetan colony sipping very sweet, milky tea from suspiciously cloudy shot glasses and our topic of conversation somehow ventured - rather carelessly - onto that most dangerous of terrains: the no-man's land of religion.

I must have made some comment about some Western Buddhists I'd met being no different than fundamentalist Christians, believing literally in stories of people miraculously appearing on self-arisen lotuses, which we have to agree is not the usual order of things, when my co-religionist's expression metamorphosed from sweet and amiable to something altogether less serene.

... How dare I question and undermine his faith?! He exclaimed, incredulous that a Buddhist (and a monk!) should dare ask questions or not accept at face value every innovation and cultural accretion that has ever been dreamt into existence in the six realms. In fact, throughout the amusing little tirade which ensued 'faith' was repeated in a manner more fitting, I thought, to a Billy Graham rally, which did nothing more than push me in the opposite direction, out of devilment, perhaps.

Where is the middle ground with these people? Where is the common sense? Where is the rationality? Why do we hear so much gushy parroting of other peoples' fairy stories, or whispers of teachers' namthars by cow-eyed students, but no evidence of their own insights in their own daily life and understanding of Dharma? One would expect that any serious student should have some insight.

It seems, sadly enough, that you can take the man out of Christianity, but sometimes you just can't take Christianity out of the man. Someone who slavishly obeyed the bellowing of the eternal judge in his youth is bound to have a defective understanding of what precepts, vows and samayas actually mean in later life. The same with many other parallels between the two systems.

Incidentally, the Dalai Lama saved the day when I remembered his quote: when science and religious doctrine are at odds, then the latter must be dispensed with*. Something like that, anyway. My sutra-thumping friend couldn't really respond to that without making himself look bad, though I know it still angered him. But does it really even have to come to this? Isn't there something of the Middle Ages here, with people debating how many angels can dance on a pin head?

For the record, I neither believe, nor disbelieve, things like this. To me they're just not important - simple as. They're not necessary to me, nor to my understanding of Dharma; I'm not on a Dawkins-esque mission to rip the magic carpet of eastern mystery from the feet of anyone - if it is helpful then it is helpful, and if it is in accordance with Dharma then it is Dharma. There has to be room for those who believe 'everything' to peacefully coexist with those who are not, shall we say, so credulous by nature.

Buddhism is like a huge supermarket, chock-full of all manner of weird and wonderful nutritive product ranges... but we don't have to try to buy the whole shop's contents at once as soon as we pass inside its portals.

In regular supermarkets there are the items necessary to daily existence, water, bread, etc., things we really have to buy if we are to continue on this Earth as nourished human beings. In the Dharma superstore it's also the same: there are only a few things we actually need to buy to *be* Buddhist - all the other wonderful things on the endless shelves may be of more use to others, or to one's self at a later date, or maybe just not be to one's individual taste at all. It doesn't matter.. as long as you know what products you need to survive and you keep them faithfully on your shopping list, understanding why they're necessary to your health and wellbeing. This is, of course, until you reach that state when you have no more need of supermarkets, nor of shopping lists... but this is a long way off for most of us.

Festina lente, as it's said, lest you become like a starving person who, on being given the free run of the shop, get distracted by the expensive spices and fancy olive oils and still die of starvation.



*there are caveats here, which many will obviously understand.