Saba ka mangala -- May all be happy

Shri Satya Narayan Goenka, more commonly known as S.N. Goenka or, among his students, Goenkaji, died on September 29, just over a month ago. I count myself among the students, as the very first Buddhist retreat I ever attended was one taught by him (electronically) at Dhamma Kunja in Washington State in February of 2005. It was the hardest thing I've ever done -- mentally, emotionally, and physically, but I was and remain utterly glad that I stuck it out, despite wanting to leave every day. And, although I do not practice the exact technique of meditation he teaches, it's safe to say that I continue to feel that it gave me the basics, which led to my desire to continue as a student of Vipassana and Theravadin Buddhism in general. For this, I will always be grateful.

Yesterday I received an email from the guiding Vipassana group, with a link to a lengthy newsletter devoted to this wonderful man. I wish I could share the link, but the site is password protected and while everyone who has ever completed a 10-day course anywhere in the world knows the login, we are asked not to divulge it, and I honor that request. I found it truly worthwhile to read.

Still, although I can't share the entire newsletter, I will share the following portion:

It was late afternoon of a long day toward the end of August 2000. In the United Nations General Assembly Hall in New York, delegates to the Millennium World Peace Summit were weary and a little jaded. This was the first global gathering of religious and spiritual leaders at the UN, and it had descended into acrimony. Far from finding common ground, the delegates had sharply differed over the question of conversion. Some delegates were highly critical of the practice; others representing some of the leading religions rejected those views. Over the years, the hall had often been the setting for this sort of wrangle involving politicians; it was disappointing to see spiritual leaders doing no better.

To close the session, a lesser-known figure made his way to the podium, helped by an assistant. His silver hair gleamed; he wore a smartly tailored Indian suit. Carefully he paid respects and smilingly surveyed the crowd. Then he started speaking, and within seconds he had caught the attention of the assembled dignitaries.

“Religion is religion only when it unites,” he said. “Religion is no religion when it divides. Religion is not for dividing people. It is for uniting people.”

“So much has been said for and against conversion. I am for conversion, not against it. But conversion not from one organized religion to another organized religion—no. Conversion from misery to happiness. Conversion from bondage to liberation. Conversion from cruelty to compassion. That is the conversion needed today.”

“If I have an agitated mind full of anger, hatred, ill will and animosity, how can I give peace to the world? “Therefore all the sages and saints and seers of the world have said, ‘Know thyself.’ Not merely at the intellectual, emotional or devotional level, but at the actual level. When you know the truth about yourself at the experiential level, many of the problems get solved. You start understanding the universal law of nature or God, which is applicable to one and all.
“When I observe myself and find that I am generating anger, ill will or animosity, I realize that I am the first victim of the hatred or animosity I am generating within myself. Only afterwards do I start harming others. And if I am free from these negativities, nature or God Almighty starts rewarding me: I feel so peaceful.

“Whether I call myself a Hindu or a Muslim or a Christian or a Jain, it makes no difference: a human being is a human being. Human mind is human mind. Conversion should be from impurity of the mind to purity of the mind. This is the real conversion that is necessary—nothing else.”

“Every religion has the wholesome core of love, compassion and good will. The outer shell differs, but give importance to the inner essence and there will be no quarrel. Don’t condemn anything, give importance to the essence of every religion and there will be real peace and harmony.”

The ruler referred to was the great Emperor Ashoka of India, who had issued the message—the world’s first call for religious tolerance—more than two millennia before. And the messenger was a man who always regarded Ashoka as a hero and had devoted his life to teaching a way to inner peace: Satya Narayan Goenka.

Saba ka mangala -- may all be happy -- are the last words heard from Goenkaji at the end of every 10-day course. None of his students are ever likely to forget it. I certainly haven't -- in fact, as he left the hall, chanting this, I wanted to cry because I knew it was over and it was time to return to 'real' life.

What does the world want to do through you?

I recently posed this question on my other blog, after a weekend spent watching Wisdom 2.0 from Silicon Valley. It's a question that led Wisdom 2.0's organizer, Soren Gordhamer to put this wonderful weekend together four years ago. He said he'd been going through some of the usual difficulties many face in this country these days: divorce and loss of a job. He asked himself this question every day for almost a year before the answer came. In the four years since, the conference has grown by leaps and bounds and is indeed a wonderful thing to do for the world through Soren.

When I say I 'posed the question' previously, what that really means is that I used the same headline to talk about the Wisdom 2.0 weekend. I didn't really discuss the question then, but I'd like to do that today because it's weighing heavily on my mind.

I've made numerous references on the other blog about wanting something meaningful to do with the rest of my life. I'm 70, but healthy enough that barring catastrophe, I could easily live another 15 or 20 years. And I don't want to spend those years in the proverbial rocking chair. Not all of my prior posts have been about doing something for the world -- some have been quite selfish. There was this one about becoming a nomad. There's this one, that mostly poses questions with a few possible answers. And this one that poses questions with still different possible answers. And even this one way back in June. More recently, the 'plan' has been to try and work out a way to spend half the year lounging on the beach near Ensenada, Mexico, and the other half at one Buddhist monastery or another as a resident. That still holds some good possibilities although this morning I'm beginning to feel that this is somewhat selfish (the time in Mexico part!).

Most of these blog posts and questions, however, came along before I heard Soren's question. In the week and a half since, I've asked myself this question daily, in meditation. Lately, I've been tailoring it a bit, asking also 'what does the Dhamma want to do through me', and 'how can I best be used in the Dhamma'. Starting this blog came to me in meditation one day after pondering these questions -- down to the title and purpose. But, even I don't suffer under any illusions that this blog is going to change or help the world in any way. Maybe it'll be of interest to a few people, and that would be great, but there are stronger, better and more qualified voices out there when it comes to making a serious impact on the world. Spending time at a monastery is a great way to help in the Dhamma, since that entails work -- using whatever skills I may have that the monastery has need for.

Kuti at Aranya Bodhi where I lived last summer

Most of the time, I can't get past the burning sense that the hermitage in California is where the need is, and this is where I should go. The nuns and lay people are wonderful -- I learned to love them dearly last summer when I spent two weeks with them. The nuns live happily and without complaint in this beautiful, but chilly, redwood forest with only the most basic needs of shelter: a few wooden kuti huts (small cabins) scattered throughout the forest, heated with wood or propane, a few tents. My visit last summer was intended as an opportunity for me to see the place before relocating there this very spring -- but despite thermal clothing I was so cold the entire time that I could not enjoy the experience, and certainly couldn't envision returning there to live.

It's a beautiful place.

But still, for many reasons they need me (or someone) to be on the premises handling financial/bookkeeping issues. I, however, have been aiming at places in warmer climates -- a monastery near Austin, Texas for one, and Mexico. So right now, I'm really torn.

What does the Dhamma want to do through me? And how may I best be used in the Dhamma? This would certainly be a good answer to both questions, but other questions are then raised. One would be 'am I unselfish enough to live in the cold in order to do so?' or, 'do I want to live year-round in any monastic environment?'  Both are hard questions for me to answer with 'yes'. Warm weather still calls (I could help the monks at the monastery in Austin with my writing/editing skills and be warm). The idea of spending half the year without living under monastic precepts calls (I still like the occasional glass of wine, or some good jazz).

The monastery in Austin where the climate suits me -- although I haven't visited yet and may or may not be invited to spend time there.

But what is most important? Doing what I want or being unselfish enough to help these truly worthy and good nuns who need the help? And how serious am I about heeding the answers that come from the questions posed, if I can't answer this call? On the other hand, how much of value could I really contribute if I were cold and unhappy?

Much of this is in my mind -- as is most of what we humans endure as suffering in our lifespans -- and I know the answers will come as I continue to ask and listen, find a way of comfort with all those issues that hold me back.