Sangha News 

Second-hand Book Sale

We've been sorting out duplicate books and some books that don't quite fit our library so we have a number of second-hand Dharma books for sale. These are on the bottom shelf of the Bookstall. Please take a look - it's a good selection of useful books. If you want to take one (or more) just put a donation (around £1 or more) in the Bookstall bowl.    

 Windhorse eBooks  

John Lawton 

John Halsall writes:

John Lawton, a friend of Leeds Buddhist Centre, died recently. John was a regular at the drop-in meditation class on Wednesday lunchtimes last year. John also joined a couple of evening courses, and he established a daily meditation practice. John loved to read books about the Dharma, especially Zen. He enjoyed discussing Buddhism and meditation over a cup of tea after the class, including the effects in his own life.  

John was quick to appreciate the humour in situations, and brought light-heartedness. He had enjoyed the outdoors, and continued to enjoy making trips  using his bus pass when ill health limited his mobility. John never seemed bothered by his breathing difficulties.

John had been in hospital for some weeks, and when he was dying he asked his family to contact the Buddhist Centre. Jenny and Matt went straight over and spent some time with John. John's family were with him when he died.

  

John left several dozen books on spiritual themes to the Buddhist Centre, and many of the ones about Buddhism have been added to the sangha library. 

 

I'm really glad to have met John. I appreciated his thirst for the Dharma, and his commitment to meditation and into grappling with the Dharma. He noticed awareness deepening, including a fuller appreciation of other people and increased sensitivity to ethical practice in his life.

Buddha Day  

When he was small my son used to ask me for time off school when it was Wesak - Buddha Day - in May. He said "I'm half-Buddhist, why can't I have the day off, like Christmas?".  "It's not like that" I would say, "this isn't a Buddhist country, so we don't have a holiday. Anyway, you'd just watch telly".

My answer wasn't entirely true. I could easily have taken the day off work, I could have kept him home and we could have done 'Buddhist' things - make Buddha biscuits, read stories, paint pictures. I never did - it would have felt a bit ' Sunday-school', and I think I just hadn't learned to share the Buddha with anyone outside the safety of the Buddhist Centre. Maybe we would have ended up watching TV together, and there would have been no Buddha-themed programs, just Mona the Vampire and Simpsons cartoons - an ordinary day.

So - if it's not a Buddhist country what does it mean to celebrate Buddha day? How does everyone else do it? Buddha Day of course is our Western Buddhist name. Elsewhere it's know as 'Wesak' or 'Vaisakha purnima' which is the name given to the full moon day in April or May, and festivals at this time are a centuries-old tradition in the Buddhist world. My favourite name is from Nepal where the festival is known as 'Swanya Punhi', the full moon day of flowers.

In many countries people go to the temple to listen to sutras and perform puja, they might take special care to follow the precepts, giving food and offerings. The day marks the birth of Gautama Buddha and also the day of his Enlightenment and parinirvana - his death, and these different parts of his life are reflected in tradition. In Japan and other countries small statues of the Buddha - representing the baby Buddha-to-be - are ritually washed with water, tea and flowers; in India a sweet rice pudding is served to recall the story of Sujata, the girl who offered the Buddha a bowl of milk rice on the eve of his Enlightenment. In Sri Lanka everything is decorated with lanterns and light, with floats depicting stories from the Jataka tales. In Indonesia lanterns are carried from place to place, symbolising the light of the Dharma. 

I guess that for me Buddha day has always had a strong personal element, I've seen it as a time of reflection, recollecting the Buddha's life and his example. To sit in meditation on Buddha day is to sit as Gautama did under the Bodhi tree, open to the possibility of awakening. In the Triratna Buddhist Community I have the sense we celebrate Buddha day in terms of the Buddha's enlightenment - not his birth or death. And we have come to the Dharma as individuals, we connect with it on a personal level through our own practice, not through our culture and its everyday holidays. Perhaps we are a bit serious in our celebrations, unwilling to be childish or foolish. I have spent 40-odd years singing carols about shepherds and decorating Christmas trees, happily joining in with the Western celebration of Jesus's birthday, and yet I would feel foolish bathing a baby Buddha for fear of being taken literally!

This whole Western Buddhist journey is an adventure, there are no well-beaten paths. Traditions are there for us to create. Maybe on Buddha day this year I will light a candle for the Buddha's birthday, and I'll scatter flowers in remembrance of the Sal trees that shed their petals at his death. I might eat rice porridge with Sujata, and sit with the Buddha as the full moon rises. Maybe I will chant, for the sheer joy and beauty of it - from gratitude, from longing, just like Christmas. Maybe I will send my grown-up son a card and a gift! - some light from the Buddha going out into the world.  

Note: The World Fellowship of Buddhists in 1950, asked Heads of Governments of all countries "in which large or small number of Buddhists are to be found" to make it a public holiday and in 1999, the United Nations resolved to internationally observe the day of Vesak at its headquarters and offices.

The Buddha's Victory   

The Buddha once told his disciples that they were warriors - ksatriyas - fighting to live an ethical life, develop higher states of consciousness and attain transcendental wisdom.  As demonstrated by the most recent young men's retreat at Padmaloka, heroically titled 'Way of the Warrior', this metaphor remains popular.  The best example of warrior-like spiritual practice comes from the life of the Buddha himself.  His enlightenment, which we're celebrating this month, has long been heralded as a great victory.  Mythical accounts and paintings representing the Buddha's experience as he sat meditating beneath the Bodhi Tree on the night of his enlightenment often depict it as a gruesome battle against evil forces.
 
These accounts are expertly drawn together in Vishvapani's book Gautama Buddha (a highly recommended biography!).  In the chapter 'Nirvana' we read that Gautama's meditation was interrupted by Mara - a demon, the Lord of Death, and the embodiment of destructive emotions and hidden desires and doubts.  Hoping to disguise his identity, Mara spoke to Gautama in a soft, concerned voice: 'You are so thin and pale.  Why - you're near to death.  My dear Sir, do live.  It is far better to live! ... What's the point of all this exertion?'  

However, Mara's tricks did not fool Gautama.  Not only did he see that the speaker was Mara mounted on an Elephant, he saw that Mara's troops had him surrounded.  He thus let out a rousing battle cry: 'Even though the whole world and its gods cannot defeat that army of yours, I will destroy it with the power of wisdom!'  And so the war began.  

The beautiful grove in which Gautama sat was transformed into an ugly battlefield as Mara's hordes made their advance.  His soldiers are often depicted as grotesque, deformed figures with twisted faces and eyes shining with rage - a writhing mass of hatred and desolation, their bodies covered in blood and their mouths spewing vomit.  They attacked Gautama using the powers of the elements - torrential rain, clouds of fiery ash, showers of rocks and boundless darkness.  But the Buddha sat motionless.  The missiles thrown by Mara's hordes fell harmlessly at his feet, turning into petals and incense as they spiralled to the ground.  Mara was defeated, the Buddha was victorious!  

When we first encounter this imagery it's perhaps a little surprising.  Meditation is supposed to be a quiet, peaceful activity isn't it? And the Buddha, with his boundless wisdom and compassion, is surely not somebody we would ever cast as a warrior fighting on a battlefield.  However, Sangharakshita has highlighted two ways in which regarding the Buddha's enlightenment as a hard-fought victory can inspire our practice.  

Firstly, the way the Buddha responded to and defeated Mara's forces is significant.  He overcame Mara simply by being himself.  He sat motionless and therefore refused to fight on Mara's terms.  He defeated him by virtue of the sheer excellence of his moral and spiritual qualities.  Secondly, this imagery reminds us that Buddhist practice is strenuous and we have to rise to the challenge.  As Sangharakshita asserts,  

'[We] should beware of taking too soft a view of the spiritual life.  Perhaps we do not meditate hard enough.  Perhaps we do not study hard enough, work hard enough, even play hard enough. Perhaps we have not committed ourselves to the Three Jewels with sufficient depth and intensity.  Perhaps we do not really want to spread the Dharma.  Perhaps we are just playing at being Buddhists.  If that is the case then we will not get very far: we will not be truly successful or genuinely happy.  We will not be real Buddhists, and we certainly won't be ... real spiritual warriors'.

So as we celebrate the Buddha's enlightenment this month, in addition to reflecting on his victory and its aftermath we can also rejoice in and be inspired by the intensity of his practice leading up to enlightenment and, in particular, his warrior-like approach to the spiritual life.  

How 'The Work' of Byron Katie can help with Buddhist practice 

I first came across the work of American self help guru Byron Katie about ten years ago, five years before I found Leeds Buddhist Centre. She has published a variety of books in which she gives you a series of very simple questions with which to challenge and overturn your perception of any situation you're struggling with. The questions work by flooding your mind with the 'fresh air' of a new (often reversed) perspective.

It's an appealing technique when you're in pain. But until recently, her techniques had always struck me as being rather like Paracetamol - a short term solution. My old views always came back, dragging their long tail of complicated emotional responses. What's more, the persistence and tenacity of my habitual thought patterns endowed them, to my thinking, with truth.

Since becoming a Buddhist, however, I have begun to at least entertain the idea that just because something is a habit, doesn't necessarily mean it's 'true'. And I have been interested to see Byron Katie's books on LBC's shelves and to find that other sangha members 'like' her on Facebook.

With all this in mind, last summer I went down to Kensington Town Hall to attend the day workshop she holds annually in the UK. In a deserted Sunday morning London, the  queue was quite a sight - 800 people, who went on to fill the venue to capacity. I was reminded of the Dead Sea, a place of pilgrimage for Israelis with physical ailments. In Kensington we wore our sufferings mostly on the inside, but the atmosphere of hope, reverence and nervous anticipation was very similar.

When Byron Katie arrived with her husband and squeezed through the queue, many people gasped and one woman whispered, 'did you feel it?' This idea made me squirm, but I had felt something; her radiance and calm were tangible.

In the packed Hall, she asked us all to fill in a 'hate thy neighbour' form. We had to name someone who annoyed us, explain why, and put down in detail what we thought they should do differently. We went into details about the behaviour that we never wanted to endure at the hands of this person again.

She asked for a volunteer to work through the contents of their form. There was no shortage, and a young man was chosen to go on stage and sit opposite her in a comfy chair. He read out what he'd written, and she asked him her four key questions: 'Is it true? Can you absolutely know that it's true? How do you react when you believe that thought? Who would you be without the thought?'

Here's an extract from Byron Katie's book 'A Thousand Names For Joy' that will give you a flavour.

Rather than pick a person to dislike, Peter had chosen something about himself. 'I'm angry at my reading and writing disability, my dyslexia, because it makes it hard to write, read, communicate, do the Internet, e-mail, work.'

Peter:        In today's world.
Katie:        Yes. So "You need to read and write" - is that true?
Peter:        Only to communicate with somebody who's not in the present location.
Katie:        "You need to read and write" at all, even for that reason - is it true?
Peter (after a pause):    No. Ultimately, it's not.
Katie:        How old are you?
Peter:        Forty-three.
Katie:        You've been okay for forty-three years.
Peter:        I don't know if I'd use the word okay.
Katie:        Well, other than your thinking, how's your body?
Peter:        My body's great.
Katie:        Except for your thoughts, haven't you done well?
Peter:        Yes. But I've had all the education possible to try to teach me how to read and write... 

Katie:        "You need to read and write" - is that true?
Peter:        No. I actually do pretty well without it.
Katie:        Good to know. Feel that, sweetheart. For forty-three years, other than your thinking, you've done fine. Your boots match.
Peter:        Actually, I made them (The audience applauds and hoots.)
Katie:        People who read and write may have a problem with that (The audience laughs.)
Peter:        I know.
Katie:        We're too busy reading and writing (The audience laughs.)
Peter:        The thing is, my mind doesn't work in two dimensions; it works in three dimensions.
Katie:        How do you react when you believe the thought "I need to read and write" and you can't, because you're dyslexic?
Peter (with tears in his eyes): Ashamed. Embarrassed. Society takes reading and writing for granted. It hurts.
Katie:        Give me a peaceful reason to believe that you need to read and write. Or to read or write.
Peter:        It would be nice to be able to help my ten year old son with his homework.
Katie:        Oh, really? You've been spared! (The audience laughs.)
Peter:        You're right.
Katie:        It's like you're wishing for an additional job. And the reality of it leaves him with something very important; it leaves him responsible for what he learns.

Their dialogue goes on, with some interesting twists and turns, for another eight pages, so I'll stop there and go back to Kensington, where Katie's way of bringing alternative views out was - as in the above extract - humorous and bracing.

People took a long time to answer her questions, naturally, and were on stage for between half an hour and an hour, during which time she would often ask the first two questions ten times or more. Eventually the person would tend to drop their voice and say, 'No. I can't absolutely know it's true.'

If that sounds boring, it wasn't, partly because every person's case was different and partly because it was impossible to predict what Katie would say. One woman who'd asked to go on stage began a gloomy story from her seat in the auditorium. She said she'd reached rock bottom and so had her daughter, who was very ill but had no support of any kind in her life.

During her story, many of the audience began to shuffle in their seats. But we gasped as Katie simply cut the woman off. 'No support?' she said. 'What about the chair she sits in; the air she breathes? They support her life, surely?' 'Yes but...' said the woman. 'Now, we'll move to that gentleman over there,' said Katie. 'Yes, you sir, in the red shirt...'

Katie's perceived lack of sympathy has led to media criticism, especially over her handling of sexual abuse sufferers, where she invites sufferers to recognise the part they played in their abuse.   

I am inclined to trust her, partly because her personal story is so compelling. After years of severe depression in her thirties, during which time she'd contemplated suicide and often been unable to leave her bedroom, she woke up one morning in 1986 with a life-changing realisation. 'I discovered that when I believed my thoughts, I suffered, but that when I didn't believe them, I didn't suffer, and that this is true for every human being. Freedom is as simple as that. I found that suffering is optional. I found a joy within me that has never disappeared, not for a single moment. That joy is in everyone, always.' (from 'A Thousand Names for Joy')

In other books, Katie details further discoveries, for example the loss of herself as 'I' and the sense of herself more as 'it'. She writes that she had to 'put on' a sense of 'I' again to be able to deal effectively with the world.

It is like reading a description of Enlightenment. Katie makes no claim regarding this. And there is a conundrum. While she does seem to be living from a different perspective than the majority of us, I'm not sure we can get there ourselves just by applying her techniques. The Paracetamol effect might stick and it might not. Nevertheless, I recommend having a look at her books or even taking a trip down to Kensington when she appears there this summer (13th July,  http://www.alternatives.org.uk/site/EventDescription.aspx?EventID=1081). Applying her questions can jolt you out of your habitual view for a few moments at the very least, and that has to be worth something.

Sangha Snapshot

Each Month, Matt McCarthy talks to sangha members, old and new, to find out what makes them tick

This Month our very own Mandy Sutter!

Where were you born and raised, and what brought you to Leeds?

I was born in Gloucester but spent my early childhood in Aba, Nigeria, where I went to primary school. Mum, Dad and I came back to live in Kent, then I went to Uni in York and stayed on. Leeds was just down 't road so seemed a natural migration place for my then-husband and me and, as it happened, two of our closest friends. We all went to live in Chapel Allerton. I think it was about 1986. 

Five years ago. I thought, 'Hmm. They're not TOO weird. In fact some of them seem quite nice.' 

Nuisance, blessing, commitment.

I've recently read two novels by Kent Haruf, 'Plainsong' and 'Eventide', and he has gone straight into my Top Ten. There are no clever devices or dazzling plot turns - he writes about the people in a small town in Michigan, USA, where nothing happens except ordinary life with its various joys, sorrows and conundrums. But he writes with such depth that he makes you remember that these things in themselves are extraordinary. 

I'm happy to stay in Ilkley. 

I can do a handstand under water then walk on my hands across the pool. Or at least I could. I haven't been asked to prove it recently. 

Dr Amanda M Frankenstein. 

I try to drink cranky teas from time to time but my favourite tea is still builders brew.  

A big thing for me this summer and autumn is the publication of my first novel Stretching It. It's coming out on 8th July and I'd love any sangha members who are interested to come to my Leeds launch at Waterstones in Albion St. The date has changed: it's now Weds 18th September, 6.30pm for a 7.00pm start and you'll get a fairy cake and a drink thrown in!

Buddhafield 2013

Please note that the views expressed in this newsletter are the opinions of individual authors and do not necessarily reflect the views of the Leeds Buddhist Centre, theTriratna Buddhist Community (Leeds) or The Triratna Buddhist Order