13:
Wearing a wig.
“You’re the cutest little Buddhist!” That’s what my friend says to me from back home. We haven’t really talked religion much. She’s one of those agnostics/atheist breeds that I once thought I was. And I was. Once. Now? I’m not so sure. It’s interesting though. The fact that I wear robes to the meditation shrine and chant every morning, bowing three times to the Buddha. The fact that I study Buddhism deeper than I have ever studied it despite my interest in highschool and college. The question naturally comes. “Are you a Buddhist?” Does bowing 3 times to the Buddha, chanting omitofou on my prayer beads, going to a Zen retreat make me a Buddhist? The short answer is no. Those things don’t make anyone a practitioner of a certain religion. Buddhism can coexist well with other religions so long as there are open-minded people. If you’re Christian, learning more about Buddhism doesn’t negate your Christian views as long as you’re comfortable in your own religion. Learning about other religions can help you learn more about yourself and secure your own views, regardless of what they may be. But, ah! I have dodged this enough. Am I a Buddhist?
Maybe, Maybe Not
This is a rip off of my favorite Zen koan, but it has nothing to do with the story itself. Perhaps I am a Buddhist. The question of labeling my beliefs always leaves me a bit dodgy, because I believe that my beliefs are outside the box of any religion. Bowing to the Buddha, using prayer beads to chant, meditation… All those things are form. This is where religion lies. Cultural; differing from region to region. Man-made. Described and influenced by language. Doctrines. Dogmas. Sets of rules and moral code. That’s form.
Beyond form is spirituality. Your beliefs; metaphysical, mystical, indescribable, intangible. Where language becomes inefficient. I like to consider myself “spiritual but not religious”. I don’t like religion and the shackles that come from it. I’m interested in seeing each others similarities, not differences. I’m interested in cultivating compassion. Not because it’s a Buddhist thing to do. I don’t like slapping a religion to a revolution, a calling, a greater cause, or simply, a journey. I don’t like “propagating Dharma” because the teachings, the “answers”, that’s just life. We arrive at them in our own time, and in our own ways.
If you don’t know where you’re going, any road will get you there. – George Harrison
Maybe I’m a little bit Buddhist. My structural worldview certainly relies on Eastern thought. Buddhism and Taoism are two integrating themes that I borrow in my own philosophies. But that’s just it. Buddhism is a philosophy for me, not a religion. Take away the prayer beads, the shrines, the bowing in front of statues. Take away the religious aspects and that’s where I lie.
Form cannot make you anything your mind doesn’t believe you to be. Religious rituals become empty if your heart and mind don’t align.
Freelance Buddhist
The term “freelance Buddhist” was mentioned via another student at the Zen retreat. She said she would continue to practice Buddhist teachings in her own ways in her own life but not be bound to a particular church or faith. I like that. That’s me, too. Chinese Ch’an Buddhism (Zen in Japan) is very much ingrained in Chinese culture. On an anthropological level, the monastery retreat has been very interesting and immensely satisfying, but the Chinese culture is much too rigid for my tastes. As a westerner, Buddhism looks completely different. Still, I appreciate China’s contribution to Buddhism, as it spread from India. If not for China and the way they culturally shaped Buddhism, there would be no Zen. That’s something I learned here that was an eye-opening look into Chinese history and its cultural contexts.
If you say that there is no God, that is correct. If you say there is God, that is also correct. This is what I believe. The two are a duality that coexist, like the Buddhist circle, or the Taoist yin-yang. What we call “God” is beyond any human’s conceptual understanding. Between metaphysical realms where language can not explain, even God becomes inefficient.
Am I a Buddhist? Yes. And no. And not quite. It’s not that simple. And me? I’m far too complex.
24:
Imagine being discontent with life working in X humdrum job in X corporation and deciding to leave your whole life behind, walking out the door with only $150 to your name, and never looking back. For two plus years, the only life you’ll know is the road, hitchhiking your way from place to place, friendly strangers who change your life, a mix of couchsurfing experiences and different cultures along the way.
With a dream to one day set foot in India, Artyom, a fellow traveler in the Buddhist monastery retreat, has done just that. His story starts from Russia, into the harsh, unforgiving cold winters of Siberia, crossing the border into China, and receiving $100 from a helpful stranger which would be the exact cost of a ticket to the Philippines. With details aside, his story can be echoed in the past with the beatnik generation, a la Jack Kerouac’s On the Road, or in the wanderlust and adventure of Alexander Supertramp (of Into the Wild postmortem fame). Many have felt the call of the road or the nomadic call for travel, and many will continue to as job security continues to fail and global technologies and location independent careers make long term travel more accessible. Whether you are a hitchhiker, couchsurfer, backpacker, flashpacker or location independent professional nomad, the seeds of dissatisfaction from the status-quo bind together as the impetus for change; a change of scenery, sights, sounds, smells and people.
Travel, in and of itself, has a very Zen-like quality. The impermanence of travel teaches us to be aware of our constantly new surroundings and live more easily in the moment, but travel on the road adds a whole new dimension. Leaving all wordly possessions behind, even selling all your furniture as I’ve done, marks an emptying of your self; a letting go of your past life as you once knew it. Being able to “lose yourself” to find yourself. It is a road–a journey–into emptiness.
Emptying Your Cup
A university professor went to visit a famous Zen master. While the master quietly served tea, the professor talked about Zen. The master poured the visitor’s cup to the brim, and then kept pouring. The professor watched the overflowing cup until he could no longer restrain himself. “It’s overfull! No more will go in!” the professor blurted. “You are like this cup,” the master replied, “How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup.” – Zen Koan
Emptying your cup means letting go of all past knowledge and perceptions and allowing yourself to look at life and experiences with fresh “new” eyes. It is not a negation of the self, but a full embracing of the self and humanity. Be like a sponge to new experiences, places, and people. Realize that all people are mostly good, and have faith in humanity. The road to emptiness is a minimalistic approach to a Zen lifestyle and the road an excellent Zen teacher. It takes a complete leap of faith to trust in the kindness of strangers, and the randomness of the Universe. Hitchhiking is the “hardest” form of travel, but in many ways can also be the most rewarding.
Sometimes You Have to Lose Yourself to Find Yourself
Getting lost is all part of the journey. When I broke up with an ex almost 2 years ago, we co-habited together and shared a mortgage. I moved out, and he kept most of our acquired furniture and possessions. For me, letting go of the possessions was liberating myself from a past life. I didn’t want to deal with “fairness” and equal splitting because I came in with little possessions and left with less. For me, It only solidified the fact that I was the drifter coming into his life. When I sold and gave away most of my remaining possessions to help get me to Asia, it was another load off my proverbial chest. I was prepared to get even more lost than ever before. I guess popular culture calls this the “quarter-life crisis” (I’m past the quarter century mark but it’s been building up since then) but for me, life is no longer a state of crisis. I’m enjoying every minute of being “lost” and I don’t want to be found!
Letting go of my possessions and of my self, “emptying my cup”, has been essential in helping me find out who I am, what my passions are and what drives me. It’s been nearly two months at the monastery. Two months of seeing transcendence in the mundane. Two months of routine in the presence. Two months of a vastly different life. Two years ago, I was living in my own house. A year ago, I was living with two gay guys and their three male cats and a whole new group of friends. Who am I? Am I lost? I don’t even know what my “real life” is anymore because each year is so vastly different. Empty my cup. Live in the moment.
The Road to Emptiness
My own journey is still at the monastery, but in August, I will be going to Taiwan for another monastery stay at their headquarter temple. After that, my wanderlust soul is tempted to walk the entire island of Palawan, Philippines with a local. The journey would be 280 miles of jungle and beaches. Since Palawan is the least developed island of the Philippines, it is also one of the most gorgeous. The vision is that we would journey on a “peace walk”. Traveling, teaching and exchanging our various skills to the people we meet along our way. He is skillfully trained in Kali/Eskrima, a Filipino Martial Art style that was most notably used for the training of Matt Damon’s role in the Bourne Identity trilogies. Learning Filipino martial arts was also part of my bucket list for the year and he’s mentioned that we could train. If this is the Road to Emptiness and learning how to let go of the self, it sounds good to me! Experiencing culture in an intimate way, on foot, with cool, clear night skies and the stars as our blanket is something no tourist rarely sees.
One thing Artyom lives by when on the road is the philosophy that asking for help is completely OK and necessary. What’s the worst that can happen when you ask for help? Either they say yes and you get what you want or they say no and you carry on as before. You don’t lose anything with the no but you gain so much with a simple yes. Faith is tested while you’re on the road. The age old rules of “do unto others what you would have them do unto you” and “you sow what you reap” is part of the exchange. Being on the road is a karmic system. Do good deeds and treat others kindly. If you give genuine kindness without expecting anything in return, situations will start turning in your favor. This is the Zen lessons of the road.
