They call it “The Mind.” It’s fifty-one pages of teachings, commentary, criticism, storytelling, poetry, art, and miscellany that has been distributed at no charge to readers and practice centers twice yearly since 1984. Inquiring Mind, whose estimated readership now approaches thirty thousand, was the first Buddhist journal in the West to commit to finding material from a broad spectrum of Buddhist teachers. As a result, the list of significant teachers who have appeared in its pages—and who have offered original thinking on the themes that each issue is devoted to—would fill this page. And the whole time it has been produced by the same small band of people operating out of their homes in Berkeley. The Mind boggles.
Although not widely known, Harada Roshi is one of the few Japanese Zen masters specializing in teaching Western students. Hozan Alan Senauke talks with this potent and surprising teacher about everything from kensho and the role of the body in zazen to the information society and the insecurity of our times.
Introduction by Hozan Alan Senauke
A friend said that meeting Shodo Harada Roshi for the first time in sanzen, a private interview between student and Zen teacher, was like “sitting in front of a nuclear reactor.” That was my experience too, and it is not much different the next time either…or the time after that.
In this commentary on a famed yogi’s spontaneous song of realization, Khenpo Tsultrim Gyamtso explains why Mahamudra practice makes our view, meditation, and action free and unhindered, like a lance flashing free in the open sky.
The Eight Flashing Lances is a song of realization sung by Gyalwa Gotsangpa (1189-1258), who was renowned as an emanation of the lord of yogis, Milarepa. Born in southern Tibet, Gotsangpa went to central Tibet where he met his two teachers, Drogon Tsangpa Gyare and Sangye On. He wandered then from one mountain retreat to the next, practicing meditation and bringing his realization to perfection.
Gotsangpa made a commitment never to meditate in the same place twice. If he went somewhere and stayed for a few years, he never returned. He wandered continually to help himself abandon attachment to any particular place.
The Mahayana view of emptiness, says Thanissaro Bhikkhu, is too abstract and philosophical to be of much help in our everyday lives. Instead he offers a Theravada path of emptiness that starts with taking an honest look at our day-to-day actions and leads ultimately to enlightenment.
For all the subtlety of his teachings, the Buddha had a simple test for measuring wisdom. You’re wise, he said, to the extent that you can get yourself to do things you don’t like doing but know will result in happiness, and to the extent that you refrain from things you like doing but know will result in pain and harm. He derived this standard for wisdom from his insight into the radical importance of intentional action in shaping our experience of happiness and sorrow, pleasure and pain. Given that our actions are so important and yet so frequently misguided, our wisdom has to be tactical — and strategic — in fostering actions that are truly beneficial. It has to outwit our shortsighted preferences in order to yield a happiness that lasts.
Introduction by Charles S. Prebish
Although the counterculture of the 1960s inspired much interest in Zen and the various Tibetan Buddhist traditions, by 1975 there were no more than several hundred thousand Buddhists in North America. Most of them belonged to either Buddhist Churches of America, a series of predominantly ethnic communities in the Japanese Pure Land tradition, or the then-titled Nichiren Shoshu of America, popular with so-called American converts and composed largely of women and minorities.
If we fast-forward to the turn of the century, most reasonable estimates cited between four and six million Buddhists in North America. Fueled by the 1965 change in American immigration law, there was a huge influx of Buddhist immigrants from war-torn Southeast Asia. In all likelihood, the number of Buddhists in North America with Asian ancestry represents about 75 to 80 percent of the total number of Buddhists on the continent.
He’s renowned as the First Ancestor of Zen, but who was he really? Andy Ferguson journeys through China with author and translator Red Pine in search of the historical Bodhidharma and evidence of his original teachings.
I don’t know what I am expecting. As we exit the van we are welcomed only by a chilly winter wind blowing down Bear Ear Mountain. The lonely mountain, just a few hundred feet high, conveys a sad sense that something important has been forgotten here. Naked land stretches for miles in all directions.
We’re about an hour’s drive west of Luoyang, China’s most ancient capital, and a few miles off the new Luoyang—Xian expressway. We left the highway at an exit called Kwan Yin Hall, although no hall — and no Kwan Yin — were to be seen. A short drive south brought Bear Ear Mountain and the site of Kong Xiang (“Empty Form”) Temple, Bodhidharma’s final resting place, into view.
Q: Is there a Buddhist perspective regarding practitioners who become afflicted with Alzheimer’s disease or dementia? Since the mind is the primary tool with which we work toward the realization of buddhanature and enlightenment, what does it mean if one loses that mind, or loses the capacity to practice, long before one dies?
I’ve been able to find teachings and information on Buddhist skills for caring for loved ones with dementia, but I cannot seem to find anything on the potential quandary of practicing Buddhism if confronted with dementia oneself. What happens to our right effort if we lose the ability to practice or to work with our mind? And what happens to the skillful means we developed for our own death?
By Jan Chozen Bays
I’ve been pondering the question of good and evil, a question my Christian mother also deliberated upon. A few weeks before her sudden death from a stroke at age eighty-four, she told me, “I’ve come to the conclusion that evil doesn’t exist as a separate entity. I think that evil is created when man turns away from good.”
When I asked about God in my childhood, my mother said that she felt that God was love. That would mean that evil was its opposite, anger or hatred. This is congruent with the teachings of both Jesus and the Buddha. Then, late in life, my mother decided that God was energy. She reasoned that God must be in everything, and since God was completely fair, it must be a force that is fully present in all people and creations. Only energy fit these criteria.
In a meeting over whisked green tea with my Zen master, Shodo Harada Roshi, my mother told him of her new understanding of God as energy. He looked deeply into her eyes and said, “That’s right! But you only have half of it.” She grinned like a child, so pleased to have been given a new question to ponder. She referred to him thereafter as “my Roshi.”
A Cascading Waterfall of Nectar
By Thinley Norbu
Shambhala Publications, 2006
336 pages; $24.95 (hardcover)
Reviewed by Francesca Fremantle
Thinley Norbu Rinpoche is a renowned writer and teacher in the Nyingma tradition. He is the eldest son of the late Dudjom Rinpoche, Jigdral Yeshe Dorje, who was the incarnation of the nineteenth-century terton Tragtung Dudjom Lingpa. In this wonderful volume, Thinley Norbu presents his own commentaries on a treasure text revealed by Dudjom Lingpa and also on a short prayer composed by his father, who was one of the greatest realized masters to escape from Tibet and to bless the Western world with his teachings.
By Benjamin Bogin
The Sakya school of Tibetan Buddhism has been the most conservative in maintaining the secrecy of its lineage’s special practices. In particular, leaders of the school have been reluctant to authorize any publications on their supreme esoteric system, the Lamdré (“Path and Result”). The latest volume in the Library of Tibetan Classics series, Taking the Path as the Result: Core Teachings of the Sakya Lamdré Tradition (Wisdom Publications, 2006; $59.95) represents a major breakthrough by bringing these teachings to light with the full blessings of the Sakya masters. In nearly seven hundred pages of translation, the indefatigable Cyrus Stearns presents an anthology of essential texts on Lamdré. The first section includes both the Vajra Lines of the seventh/eighth-century Indian adept Virupa (the root text of the entire tradition) and the commentary by Sachen Kunga Nyingpo (1092-1158). Writings on the history and the practice of the tradition by the sixteenth-century master Jamyang Khyentse Wangchuk (updated by later lineage holders) comprise the second part of the volume. This collection will be an invaluable resource for practitioners of the Lamdré system.