Suffering and the Self

I’ve just been dealing with some disturbing news: one of the translation agencies I work for has given me some negative feedback about my work and announced a scaling-back, for the time being at least, of the type and amount of work I can do for them. The e-mail came on a Friday afternoon, which rather put a damper on my weekend!

This isn’t very nice, as anyone who has been criticised will know! But, as I’ve been reflecting on its implications, I’ve come to realise that, oddly enough, my discomfort isn’t so much about the possible loss of livelihood. No, what bothers me much more is the challenge this represents to my idea of who I am – to my self, you might say.

Buddhism tells us that all unenlightened people are subject to suffering in various forms. This isn’t of course to say that we suffer all the time – life for most of us is a mix of pleasurable and painful experience - but what it does mean is that a thread of suffering is woven right through the tapestry of individual lives: bodily pain, the loss of a relationship, fear of future unhappiness and a basic sense of lack are all forms of suffering that we will all encounter at some time or other. The tradition goes on to say that all emotional and mental suffering is due to our inability to see that everything is subject to change and nothing mundane can be relied on to make us happy. This goes in particular for our own individual self, which is no more than an ever-changing flux of passing physical, emotional and mental events which change as our conditions change. But we believe that this self is somehow fixed and unchanging, fundamentally separate from the world around it – and the only way to bridge the gap - to be happy - is through things like material possessions, relationships, membership of groups of one kind or another - and status. And when they fail to satisfy us - which they inevitably do - we suffer.

Which brings us back to my uncomfortable experience. My sense of identity revolves, as it does for everyone else, around strong and fixed ideas of who I am. Here are just a few of them: I am a capable, professional translator, able to hold my head up high in the world of work. But to be told out of the blue that I might not be as capable and professional as I thought has delivered a stiff challenge to this sense of my self, and I’ve been observing how my ego has been thrashing about like a landed fish trying to hold on to my certainty – they must be wrong, I must defend myself, how dare they…? This has been very painful. Yet, objectively speaking, the facts are simple: if they’re wrong, and I’m as good as I think I am, then there’s no problem. If I’m not, I can learn from the experience and improve – again, no problem. This doesn’t suddenly make me a bad or worthless person. But because this sense of self is so strong – yet so easily challenged – it’s very difficult to be rational.

What I’ve been trying to do is observe the suffering brought about by the gyrations of my mind and understand as deeply as I can that the cause of my own suffering is my sense of separate selfhood. Not easy, but it has kept things in perspective. Freedom from suffering isn’t to be found in blaming others for our unhappiness – the only way to free ourselves is to take on board that what really makes us unhappy is our strong sense of self. So, the next time someone criticises you, consider this: either they have a point, which will provide an opportunity for you to grow and develop, or they don’t, so why get upset about it? 

Contentment vs consumerism

posted 11 Jan 2016, 13:49 by Akasharaja Bruton

As another Christmas season passes and you clear away the tree, the decorations and all the discarded wrapping paper, you may be looking back on a period of frantic shopping and consumption and perhaps feeling the after effects – on your bank account and your waistline! It’s no coincidence that January sees the launch of various initiatives to reduce consumption, what with Dry January, where the emphasis is on abstaining from alcohol, and even Veganuary, in which various celebs line up to urge us to refrain from consuming  animal products for the month. Whatever you may feel about these causes, I think they touch on a point which is important from the point of view of human wellbeing and happiness and is stressed time and again in Buddhism – the need to moderate consumption and to look within for more real and lasting sources of contentment and happiness.

The advertising industry is of course always telling us that consumption is the path to happiness. Just think of all those beautiful and smiling young people – and they are almost invariably young – we see in adverts promoting new cars, perfumes and mobile phones. The clear message is that having particular consumer goods will bring us lasting happiness. There’s no denying the thrill you get from a new car or a new phone but, as you probably know from experience, the thrill fades and the sense of lack returns. And off we go again on the consumerist treadmill, looking for that next object of desire which will permanently banish all dissatisfaction. You and I may both know this, at least rationally, but, in my case, the knowledge doesn’t stop me from yearning for the next generation of Bluetooth loudspeakers in the hope of a blissful tomorrow.

I exaggerate of course – but perhaps only a little! We may not consciously think like that, but the emotional attachment to external objects as sources of lasting satisfaction runs very deep. Buddhism addresses this problem head on with its core teaching that craving is the cause of dissatisfaction and even suffering. Because the things we yearn for aren’t permanent – they break and get lost – and sooner or later we get bored with them because we’re looking for happiness from things outside ourselves that can’t ultimately provide it.

My teacher and the founder of my Order, Sangharakshita, teaches that the positive antidote to craving is the cultivation of stillness, simplicity and contentment – and those things can only come from within. Sometimes when I sit down to meditate on the breath, I’m struck by a sense of relief at the sheer simplicity of what I’m doing. I don’t need any gadgets or apps, all I have to do is watch my breath as it comes and goes and, if I’m lucky, the sense of restless craving for sense experience will fade and I’m left with a deep sense of satisfaction and contentment in the experience itself. Meditation may well of course not be your thing, but I think the point holds good – true satisfaction can only be found within. There are other ways to experience this, and I’m sure I’ve talked about them before, such as sitting quietly on your own or with a friend, being in nature or being happily immersed in a really good book. Perhaps you might try to find your own source of inner contentment this year – I guarantee that you will notice the benefit!

Happiness

posted 23 Oct 2015, 19:23 by Akasharaja Bruton

A couple of Saturdays ago I spent about an hour out and about on the streets of Shrewsbury talking to people in the streets with a reporter from BBC Radio Shropshire. The simple but profound question he was asking was this: what makes you happy? The topic had come up in the light of the announcement that day that the Dalai Lama had endorsed a series of happiness classes to be held the length and breadth of the country. But what exactly is happiness, and how do we achieve it?

So off we went, and I was wondering what sort of answers people would come up with. Might we hear about material security and money, work and holidays? But in the event nearly everyone talked about other people – about being with friends and loved ones, enjoying companionship and having fun. This was positive enough in itself, but at least one person we talked to spoke explicitly about happiness coming from doing things for others. Being in a relationship with others based not on what you get from them, but what you can give. As a practicing Buddhist, I found this answer particularly heartwarming: after all, generosity is sometimes described as the primary Buddhist virtue. As my teacher says, you might not be very good at meditating or very mindful, but you can always give.

So what’s the connection between giving and happiness? Well, it’s just that – connection! Human beings are social animals and, as we found out in when we started asking around, like connecting with others. But what can happen when we’re unhappy and things go wrong is that we withdraw from others – both physically and emotionally – and get too wrapped up in what’s going on to remember to relate to others – except, perhaps, as the cause of our problems. This is really odd if you think about it, because it’s the one thing that’s guaranteed to make us feel more isolated, more self-referential and less connected with others. Isolation of this kind denies our fellow feeling, our sense of empathy with others. Our sense of self contracts, and we feel tense, tight and unhappy.

But when you give, the opposite happens. Giving arises out of a recognition that other people have needs and feelings just like us; and actually doing something about it – not just having warm thoughts – leads to a feeling of connection, of expansiveness, of lightness. In other words, happiness! As one of the ancient scriptures has it: “Before giving, glad; while giving, the mind is bright & clear; having given, one is gratified.” Even if you don’t feel great, you can still give – in fact, giving is one of the things you can do that is guaranteed to help lift you out of gloomy self-preoccupation.

Giving can take many forms: you can of course give money and things to good causes, but you can also give your time, your energy, your enthusiasm and even your encouragement. For me those things are directed at sharing the Buddha’s teachings, because I believe that’s the best possible use of the resources I have to offer. But giving can relate to all sorts of things, as long as you consider them worthwhile and beneficial to human happiness.

I’m sure I’m not saying anything that you don’t already know. After all, most people give readily in all sorts of situations. But I would encourage you to do what you might not necessarily think of at the time – and goodness knows I forget often enough myself – and give even when you’re feeling down and out of connection. Personal experience tells me that way happiness lies. But why not find out for yourself?

Giving

posted 23 Oct 2015, 19:22 by Akasharaja Bruton

At the moment my focus is very much on our new Buddhist centre, which opens its doors in Shrewsbury for the first time this coming Wednesday. This is a very exciting moment for everyone involved, and we hope it’ll really benefit the whole county – and, who knows, places beyond!

And yet, I can’t help thinking about something one of my fellow Order members said when he came to give a talk a few months ago, that he wished we could just call them Human Being centres rather than Buddhist centres. This might sound a bit flippant, but I think I know what he meant. After all, a Buddhist centre is basically a place where people can come together on the basis of shared values to support and connect with each other. Those values include kindness and friendliness, receptivity and awareness, openness to one another’s aspirations and positive qualities, and a shared wish to further develop those qualities. OK, so there is of course the explicitly Buddhist dimension of enlightenment - ultimate wisdom and compassion - but even that is, in a way, these same qualities writ large, and I hope people won’t need to worry about that too much to feel welcome with us.

My friend’s point was that Buddhism doesn’t hold the monopoly when it comes to a desire to express and experience positive emotion, to give and receive friendship and to connect with other people – to go beyond the narrow confines of our separate and often isolated lives. The desire to connect in a meaningful way, to be able to share ourselves and our inner lives, is a deeply held and universal human wish, and I think you could even go so far as to say that a life lived without this kind of connection isn’t a fully human life at all.

And yet, if you look around you, you surely can’t help but notice how much of our connection with each other is a pseudo, virtual connection. See how many people go about their daily lives glued to their phones, following each other on Facebook and Twitter rather than actually engaging with the flesh-and-blood human beings around them. But the point stands: the desire to connect is there, even if it finds expression in what for previous generations would be a weirdly detached way.

And I don’t think it necessarily takes a lot to get that connection going. A few days ago I was walking out of school, having dropped the boys off, and the mother of one of my older boy’s classmates was walking out alongside me. As we walked our separate paths, I reflected on what was holding me back from talking to her – perhaps a fear of being inappropriate or invading her private space or simply not being interesting enough to merit her attention! So what I did was override those self-referential concerns and start a conversation. And, guess what, she just lit up, and we had a really nice chat, and I came away feeling that it had made a difference to my day and perhaps also to hers. OK, so it wasn’t a deep and meaningful conversation, but the point is that it opened a door to possible future communication and – who knows – perhaps even friendship.

Some people are naturally good at this sort of thing. I know I’m not, but breaking an old habit enabled me to start forming a new one. You might also be one of those somewhat shy individuals, but taking a leap like I did on that occasion can bring surprising rewards. So next time you have an opportunity to connect with someone you don’t know, why not just try to connect? It might just make your day – or, for that matter, theirs!

Akasharaja's return - the lessons learned

posted 5 Nov 2014, 17:56 by Akasharaja Bruton   [ updated 12 hours ago ]

If you were listening to this show about 18 months ago you may have heard me announce that my family and I were heading off to Germany to start a new chapter in our lives.

So what, you might well ask, am I doing back here on BBC Radio Shropshire? Well, there's a long and a short version of the story. The long one I don't have time for, so I'll give you the short one: it was hard going and, in the end, it didn't work out, so we decided after six months to put everything into reverse, cut our losses and head back to Shrewsbury where, fortunately, we still had a house. The whole adventure was pretty expensive, set back our elder son's schooling by half a year and was, in a positive way, a bit humiliating. Let me explain.

In a way, the humiliation bit is pretty obvious. We made a major decision, it turned out to be the wrong one, and we had to give in and come back. But the positive angle is that, through this experience, I got to know myself a lot better, and that's always a good thing. Part of what had motivated me to return to Berlin was, as it turned out, a desire to recapture the brilliant experience I had there a few years earlier, the first time my partner and I had lived there. So, whenever I felt bored or dissatisfied after we returned to England - which was often - I always recalled the good old days - and longed for them to return.

But the second time round we went with two kids. And, surprise surprise, it wasn't the same. We had moved away from the support of close family into a situation that wasn't actually that supportive. As anyone who has kids will know, no matter how much you love and enjoy them, bringing them up in the day to day is hard work wherever you live - and restricts your freedom to do whatever you please. In other words, enjoying the cultural life of the city and swanning around in cafes was no longer the order of the day. To put it in a nutshell, the grass wasn't actually greener on the other side! I was forced to acknowledge that I had been responding to an experience of dissatisfaction in my life in England with a yearning to seek escape from it by changing the externals - in this case, my location. Humiliating but insightful!

Perhaps you've had this kind of experience. If only I had another job, a better house or a different car, I would be happy. And yet, Buddhism teaches that the true source of dissatisfaction lies in the mind. As the first verse of the Dhammapada, an early Buddhist scripture has it, experience is made of mind, led by mind, preceded by mind. If our mind is impure, suffering will follow as the wheel of the cart follows the hoof of the ox - a potent image of bondage! And the reverse is true: happiness follows the pure mind like a shadow that never leaves, with all the lightness the image implies. An impure mind is a mind caught up in craving, hatred and confusion, whereas a pure mind is characterized by clarity, positivity and contentment. A pure mind will find happiness, enjoyment and fulfillment in mindfulness of the here and now, will know contentment in the everyday beauty of ordinary life. Of course there are sometimes situations that objectively bring pain and difficulty - and we should try to change them if we can. But, if you are just bored and restless, it's really worth stopping, looking honestly at what your mind is doing and attending more closely to the beauty that everyday life offers, in time spent with a friend, in nature, or even just sitting quietly. In the park with my sons a few days ago in one of those slightly restless and dissatisfied moods, I suddenly found myself watching the leaves fall and realized that what I had just there was perfect in itself. Life in the awareness of the moment offers astonishing riches. Try it - you might be surprised by what you find!
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Ethics – the path of the warrior

posted 21 May 2014, 23:17 by Akasharaja Bruton   [ updated 12 hours ago ]

Why bother with ethics? Haven’t many of us as post-Christians spent years extricating ourselves from a moral system under which, as Sangharakshita has memorably said, we are told what to do and what not to do, for reasons we’re not clear about, by a being in whose existence we no longer believe? Doesn’t Buddhism point the way to freedom from the straitjacket of externally applied obligations, which are, according to the Old Testament at least, literally set in stone? Isn’t the whole idea rather dull? Isn’t the Dharma supposed to have the taste of freedom?

 This is of course all exaggerated, but I suspect there’s something in it. As far as the taste of freedom is concerned, I clearly remember years ago being on retreat with a man who cited the “taste of freedom” as justification for doing what he wanted, which in this case involved behaving badly, certainly inappropriately for a retreat! Perhaps there is an underlying tendency to regard ethical systems as inhibitors to freedom. I know, in my own case, that what very often goes on is a sort of barely conscious quid pro quo arrangement: if I do something ethical, I can let myself off the hook by doing something unethical as a kind of reward for being “good”. In other words, what I really want to do is the unethical thing – that’s where I see the freedom.

As I was musing on this talk at about 2 o’clock this morning, it came to me with astonishing clarity for the wee small hours that ethics is in fact nothing other than a means to liberation. The implications of this rather excited me, and I’d like to share them with you. Happily they also tie in rather neatly with the overall theme of this series of evenings, which is ethics as the path of the spiritual warrior.

Let’s start by looking at the place of ethics in Buddhism. But before we even do that, let’s look at what Buddhism actually is. Some people say it’s a religion; others maintain that it’s a philosophy. But I feel you can sidestep this thorny issue rather neatly by calling it a path. A path leads from one place to another. In our case, it leads from a state of unenlightenment to a state of enlightenment, to Buddhahood. And what characterises that state of unenlightenment? Let’s turn to the Pali canon for guidance. These verses are taken from the Dhammapada:

342. Beset by craving, people run about like an entrapped hare. Held fast by mental fetters, they come to suffering again and again for a long time.

343. Beset by craving, people run about like an entrapped hare. Therefore, one who yearns to be passion-free should destroy his own craving.

And these come from the Anguttara nikaya AN 3.71, the Channa Sutta:

 "An aversive person, his mind bound up, overcome with aversion, engages in bodily misconduct, in verbal misconduct, in mental misconduct. But having abandoned aversion, he doesn't engage in bodily misconduct, in verbal misconduct, or in mental misconduct.

"An aversive person, his mind bound up, overcome with aversion, doesn't discern, as it actually is, what is of profit to himself, what is of profit to others, what is of profit to both. But having abandoned aversion, he discerns, as it actually is, what is of profit to himself, what is of profit to others, what is of profit to both.

"Aversion, my friend, makes you blind, makes you sightless, makes you ignorant. It brings about the cessation of discernment, is conducive to trouble, and does not lead to Unbinding.

And, last but not least, we have the story of Prince Jayasena from the Dantabhumi sutta of the Majjhima Nikaya. It’s quite long, so I won’t quote the whole thing, but the gist is that a certain prince, who clearly spends life in the pursuit of pleasure, comes for instruction to one of the Buddha’s disciples, only to promptly dismiss as impossible what he is actually told. Whereupon the Buddha, having heard the story, says this:

 Prince Jayasena [is] hemmed in, blocked, obstructed, enveloped by this mass of ignorance. Indeed, that Prince Jayasena, living as he does in the midst of sense-pleasures, enjoying sense-pleasures, being consumed by thoughts of sense-pleasures, eager in the search for sense-pleasures, should know or see or attain or realize that which can be known... seen... attained... realized by renunciation — such a situation does not exist.

In other words, Jayasena is so bound by ignorance that he is simply incapable of recognising the truth of what the Buddha’s disciple has taught him:  that abandoning the quest for sense pleasures leads to

So what’s the common theme? It’s bondage. Craving binds us, aversion binds us, ignorance binds us. In other words, the state of unenlightenment, characterised as it is by craving, aversion and ignorance of the true nature of things, is a state of bondage. And the state of enlightenment, as we have all heard many times, is characterised by the opposite: freedom from craving and aversion and direct knowledge that true happiness is only to be attained by the cultivation of that freedom.

So, if Buddhism is a path from one to the other, what does that path consist of? Well, there are various ways of describing it, but one of the best known is the threefold path of ethics, meditation and wisdom – sila, samadhi, panna - emphasised by the Buddha especially toward the end of his life. The order here is not arbitrary: the path to freedom begins with ethics. So ethics is an essential means of liberation. Without it, liberation is impossible.

How does this work? And where does the spiritual warrior fit in?

It’s well known that Buddhist ethics is an ethics of intention. In other words, if you act from particular states of mind, particular consequences follow. As indicated above, acting out of craving, aversion or ignorance leads to bondage, to suffering, for oneself and others. Whereas acting out, for instance, of kindness, awareness, generosity and compassion leads to states of freedom from remorse, fear, craving and anger, and results in happiness, for oneself and others. This is crucial, because it shows that ethics in Buddhism is a question of mental states: it comes from within, from our own motivations, our own intentions. It isn’t imposed on us on stone tablets like the Ten Commandments.

This means that we are responsible for our ethical life. But what is the nature of that ethical life?

Most of you will be familiar with the five precepts. Here they are:



1.

I undertake the training rule to abstain from killing.

Pāṇātipātā veramaṇī sikkhāpadaṃ samādiyāmi.

2.

I undertake the training rule to abstain from taking what is not given.

Adinnādānā veramaṇī sikkhāpadaṃ samādiyāmi.

3.

I undertake the training rule to avoid sexual misconduct.

Kāmesumicchācāra veramaṇī sikkhāpadaṃ samādiyāmi.

4.

I undertake the training rule to abstain from false speech.

Musāvādā veramaṇī sikkhāpadaṃ samādiyāmi.

5.

I undertake the training rule to abstain from fermented drink that causes heedlessness.

Surāmerayamajjapamādaṭṭhānā veramaṇī sikkhāpadaṃ samādiyāmi.[6]

The Sanskrit term for “precept” is shikshapada. We come across the Pali version of this when we recite the five precepts during a puja. It literally means something like object or item of training: a training principle. So when we recite the precepts we are actually saying that we are undergoing training in sila, in ethics. When you train, you learn to do something. My son Sam frequently gets upset when he can’t do something first time, and we always tell him that he has to practise. So it is with sila, or ethics. We aren’t going to get it right first time. Ethics is a form of training, a discipline. The words we use to define ethically positive or ethically negative actions are telling: we talk about skilful and unskilful actions, rather than good or bad, or good or evil. Ethics is a skill, something you can become skilled in. But what are we in training for? The answer is simple. We’re in training to become Buddhas, to attain enlightenment. If you like, we’re all trainee Buddhas. We’re training in liberation, freedom from bondage. But how do you do that?

The Buddha was born a khattiya or a member of the warrior caste, and he uses martial image to describe the onslaught of his own unreconstructed, unenlightened, reactive tendencies in the form of Mara’s armies during his enlightenment experience. And, in a way, what we have to do is take on our own unskilful, negative reactive tendencies and develop skilful and creative tendencies to counteract them. It’s a bit like being in battle. This of course needs to be heavily qualified so as to prevent us from beating ourselves up and treating ourselves harshly. If we were guided purely by the “negative” precepts, those which instruct us to refrain from particular behaviours, we might end up at a rather joyless halfway house. So I don’t take life, steal, engage in sexual misconduct, tell lies or take intoxicants, but I might end up a rather self-righteous and joyless person. What makes the difference here is the addition, as far as I know unique to Triratna, of the five positive precepts:



With deeds of loving kindness, I purify my body.
With open-handed generosity, I purify my body.
With stillness, simplicity, and contentment, I purify my body.
With truthful communication, I purify my speech.
With mindfulness, clear and radiant, I purify my mind.



The weapons we need are expressed in the positive precepts, and they are all based on metta, or loving kindness. I won’t go into detail here because that is what the rest of the course is about. But you can see that the precepts fall into three categories of action: those of body, speech and mind. In other words, they cover all of our behaviour: physical, verbal and mental. So the Buddhist ethical life involves bringing the weapon of loving kindness to bear on our tendencies toward craving, aversion and ignorance. If we are not trying to do this, then meditation will be virtually impossible, just an endless struggle against streams of distraction based on various forms of craving, aversion and ignorance. And it goes pretty much without saying that any form of wisdom, which, if you have been following the spiral path series, relies on the attainment of joy, rapture, peace, bliss and concentration, can be ruled out.

So I hope I’ve been able to show that ethics is an essential part of the path to liberation, that it involves training and practice and that, frankly, it’s something of a battle, albeit one which we can join with the weapon of loving kindness, toward ourselves and other beings.

Change!

posted 3 Jun 2013, 13:52 by Akasharaja Bruton

Over the last eight months or so, the dominant feature of my life has been change. My mother died in September. Since then, my father has set off on a new life journey and has just remarried. There are lots of reasons why this is a good thing, and neither he nor I have any doubt that my mother would have approved. A consequence of this is the imminent sale of the family home where my brother and I grew up. We were there last weekend, sifting through the contents of our past, looking for whatever we wanted to take with us. I came across scrapbooks I compiled as a little boy, letters from various past loves, photos of my mother, of my parents’ wedding and of their parents and families, some dating back many, many years. But the house seemed vacant, a little mournful, as if already emptied of life. And, to cap it all, my family and I are heading off overseas, back to Berlin, where we lived until we moved to Shropshire in 2009. Leaving behind us our own family home, a friendly neighbourhood, a safe town and a lively Buddhist community to embark on a new adventure. Again, there are many reasons for this, not least a desire to open up new potentials, to benefit from the breadth of experience that this move will give all of us: my partner and me, and our children alike.

 Buddhism strongly emphasises impermanence and a deep understanding and acceptance of it as the key to wisdom and happiness. The Buddha’s last recorded words were “all conditioned things are impermanent – with mindfulness, strive!” Buddhists try to recognise that the objects and relationships the world has to offer can’t provide enduring satisfaction because they don’t last. Everything that has a beginning also comes to an end. And clinging to impermanent things and relationships causes us to suffer.

 All this may sound a bit grim – and yet, my point is that we can turn this on its head and say “Everything that has an end has a beginning!” It’s impermanence that allows new things to happen. Yes, my old family home is empty of life right now, but it will very shortly be home to a new family; other children will hopefully grow up happily within its walls and enjoy playing in the lovely garden my mother took such pride in and on which her ashes lie scattered. Our two little boys will learn new skills, a new language and gain a different and valuable perspective on life. My partner and I will face new challenges and opportunities and hopefully grow as people as a result. My father and his new wife – both recently bereaved - will enjoy the consolation of a new relationship and the life-changing possibilities that will bring.

 My point is that change is not just to be feared. It can’t in any case be avoided - and can bring with it all sorts of new opportunities. We can choose to cling to the past, to old habits, refuse to let go – or we can approach change with a sense of new beginnings and opportunities. So next time a change thrusts itself upon you, why not try to look at it like that?

Reflections on Bodhgaya

posted 10 Mar 2013, 15:13 by Akasharaja Bruton

Just over a week ago I was still in the northern Indian town of Bodhgaya,
sitting with other members of the Triratna Buddhist Order at the foot of a
spreading fig tree at the spot where Siddhartha Gautama was sitting 2500
years ago when he gained enlightenment and became the Buddha. You couldn't
exactly call the atmosphere contemplative. Voices in any number of different
languages were intoning Buddhist scriptures, Tibetan monks were bashing
cymbals and playing wailing trumpets. White-clad Japanese devotees were
rubbing shoulders with yellow-robed monks chanting through portable
amplifiers. There was even the occasional fight between snarling feral dogs.
And we were doing our bit for the general atmosphere too, performing our
rituals and chanting our chants. All this was set against the typical Indian
background of blaring car horns. It was bedlam. But it was also wonderful to
be part of: hordes of people from all over the world with no common language
or cultural background or anything other than a shared devotion to the
Buddha and his teachings. It was inspiring, and I felt incredibly connected.
I no longer needed to be an Englishman, a European or even a foreigner.
Those labels didn't matter any more. I was just a follower of the Buddha
together with other followers of the Buddha.

That's all well and good if you're a Buddhist, you may say. But I think
there is a point here which can be applied more generally. In our tradition
we teach a meditation practice concerned with the development of
loving-kindness. This meditation involves bringing specific people to mind
and wishing them well, sending loving-kindness their way. One of these is a
so-called neutral person, someone you don't have any particular feelings
for. You know the kind of thing: a neighbour you're on nodding terms with,
or a woman you see on the bus. To help the flow of well wishing, I encourage
learners to reflect on what they have in common with the neutral person:
they both want to be happy, have hopes and fears, love and are loved in
return. In other words, there's a lot more connecting than separating them!
Just like my experience in India: regardless of gender, nationality,
language, customs, or differences in material prosperity, there was a deep
kinship based on what we as Buddhists had in common. And what all human
beings, Buddhist or otherwise, have in common is a desire to be happy, to
avoid suffering. This applies in Shrewsbury just as it does in Singapore or
Saskatchewan!

This insight can help us overcome barriers of indifference to other people.
I sometimes make it a practice to look at people when I'm out and about, to
observe them as they chat on their mobiles, scratch their ears, or laugh
with their friends. Taking people in in this way helps me see them as
individuals who want to be happy as badly as I do, where I normally barely
register their existence. Taking notice of people you don't automatically
have any feelings for makes them come alive for you. So why not try it too?
You might just be surprised by your response.

Blog from Bodhgaya

posted 27 Feb 2013, 06:59 by Akasharaja Bruton

I could write about all sorts of things - and that was my intention when I got to India about 5 days ago - about first impressions, the long train journey across northern India, about arriving at Gaya and being driven down streets with wandering cattle, tuk-tuks, cycle rickshaws, dust, heat and smells to our land at Bodh Gaya, about meeting other Order members, both Indian and western. But all of that is, if truth be known, a side show - even the International Order convention, with its discussion groups and talks, meals and meetings. A side show to the main event, which is the Vajrasana, the seat of the Buddha's Enlightenment, the spreading boughs of the ancient Bodhi tree underneath which we have sat to meditate, prostrate and practise puja, at the heart of the Maha Bodhi temple complex.

Here I no longer have to be an Englishman, a westerner or even a foreigner. Here I can just be what I most deeply feel called to be - a Dharma farer, someone who wants to practise the Dharma, to Go for Refuge more and more deeply. Worlds away from the neat streets and green gardens of Shrewsbury,rubbing shoulders with ochre-clad bhikkhus, Tibetan monks, Japanese lay followers with their prim face masks to keep out the pollution - and it is dreadful here. Sitting to meditate and being photographed by practitioners from all traditions, some of whom will no doubt be marvelling at the sight of a motley crowd of Indians and westerners, men and women, being led in puja by a Scottish woman and an Indian man, hearing the cacophony of Tibetan drums and trumpets, the amplified chanting of Pali verses by Theravada bhikkhus - which, when I stop to listen, I recognise as the words of the Tiratana Vandana! You might think it impossible to find stillness under such conditions, but such is the concentrated flow of devotion that it is easy to be carried along by it to a place of deeper contentment and significance. Outside the walls of the temple complex, the noise of car and tuk-tuk horns and the commercial bustle of rows of stalls hawking Buddhist artefacts add yet more richness to the fascinating and, at times, contradictory mix that is this place.

But, having spent some time here, one thing I feel very deeply. The spirit of Buddhism is vibrant and alive here, as all the various traditions converge on their common fountainhead and source. And to think that I wasn't originally intending to come! I am so very glad I did - and this time I won't wait another 25 years before returning to India.

Akasharaja, Bodh Gaya, February 27 2013

Living well in the face of death

posted 24 Oct 2012, 11:49 by Akasharaja Bruton   [ updated 12 hours ago ]

On my desk at home I have a picture postcard from the Hermitage gallery in St. Petersburg. On the back in my mother’s slightly spidery handwriting there is the usual brief and breezy holiday greeting from the cruise she and dad were on. The postcard was posted on August 26 in Tallinn, Estonia. During the cruise it seemed that mum had pulled a muscle and she was in quite a lot of pain, which continued when she got home. About a week later she was admitted to hospital for tests. A week after that, on September 15, she was dead, overcome by the tumour which had been growing on her liver.

 Fortunately, I and most of the rest of the family were able to see her the evening before she died. I’m so glad that I was able to tell her how grateful I was for everything she’d done and assure her that her children and grandchildren had turned out well, something she could be very satisfied with. I was also glad, even though it was a bit strange for me as an ordained Buddhist, to stand up a couple of weeks later in the church in which I had been baptised to tell the packed congregation about my mum as I knew her. I have to say it was comforting to see a lot of familiar faces from my childhood, even though I have since taken another path. I was moved to see the obvious expressions of love for my mum and dad. I’m still moved now.

 Mum didn’t want to go. The weekend before she had told me that there was so much she still wanted to be part of and experience before her death. She had agreed to a course of chemotherapy and wanted to fight her corner against the cancer. But there simply wasn’t time; it was all so fast.


My point is this: we can never know when our time is up, so we should live our lives as fully as possible. Every day could be the last day we have. When I spoke about mum in the church and heard other friends and family members talk about her, I realised just how full her life had been. Most importantly, perhaps, it was defined by the love and care she felt for many, not just those close to her. She wasn’t very demonstrative – as I put it, she measured out her feelings carefully, but I knew that they came from an inexhaustible reservoir, and I finished my little talk with an undertaking to love as fully as she did.

 There is a very pertinent line in the Buddhist scriptures which is this: “The days and nights are relentlessly passing: how well are you using your time?” This something we all need to consider – as the scripture has it, “again and again”. How much time do we waste with ill-will, falling out with each other, grumbling and being suspicious of others? Nor is it enough just to fill our time with busyness: what really matters is how we do what we do. If we love well and give of ourselves, then we will make the most of every opportunity our life offers us.

 So I would invite you to think about your life, about its uncertainties, and to look at whether you are making the most of it. Every day brings an opportunity for kindness, concern for others, generosity and compassion. So why not take full advantage of it while you can?

Look after the body, look after the mind

posted 5 Aug 2012, 18:12 by Akasharaja Bruton   [ updated 12 hours ago ]

It may have come to your attention that there's an awful lot of sport about at the moment, particularly focused on a part of east London. What's more, whenever I come panting off the treadmill at the gym, there always seems to be quite a number of fit- and, on occasion, less fit- looking people exercising with expressions of grim determination on their faces. And of course on certain nights of the week the streets of Shrewsbury fill up with high-visibility runners pounding the pavements. Add to that yoga classes, zumba, Pilates and all manner of keep-fit opportunities, and you have to conclude that sport and exercise play a significant role in British life, even though health experts wring their hands at the rise in obesity and increasingly sedentary nature of modern life. I think it's a fair bet that even the most hardened couch potato wouldn't deny that certain things are good for you: exercising and eating well being two of them.

 But, if it’s generally accepted that it makes sense to look after the body, there doesn't seem to be any such consensus that it's also good to look after the mind. Buddhism tells us that the mind and what it gets up to play a key role in determining whether or not we suffer. As it says in the Dhammapada, an early Buddhist text:

 "The mind is frivolous and difficult to control, alighting on whatever it pleases. It is good to tame the mind. A tamed mind brings happiness".

 If you’ve tried to meditate – you may know all about this. You try to settle the mind - say on your breathing - but it just keeps wandering off, losing itself in random thoughts, memories, future plans and preoccupations. After 20 years on the cushion, this still happens to me! This is because we fill our minds with input and we’re not always very discriminating about it! Just as a diet of junk food is bad for the body, junk input – like too much reality TV, or too much time spent on the computer, or dare I say, too much preoccupation with work - is bad for the mind and can result in agitation, stress and an inability to focus. As I’ve said, I am no stranger to this myself: part of my work involves maintaining a website, and I’ve spent long periods of time in meditation obsessing about how to create a nice navigation rather than actually meditating! What I need to do is to make sure that I take breaks and actually turn the computer off sometimes rather than compulsively going back to have another go. This is a classic case of input overload for me, but I imagine you have your own versions!

 Anyway, the point is just as you need to watch what you eat, it's a good idea to watch what you let into your minds. Sometimes it's a good idea just to be quiet or to be out in nature, or to go to a gallery or read a well-written book.

 And as well as attending to your mental diet, there's also the question of exercise for your mind.

 This is where meditation comes in. Meditation is about training the mind, calming it and making it clear, supple and positive, so you can apply your attention to things that really matter. It's a bit like taking the mind to the gym.

 Sadly, though, exercising the mind often gets only a fraction of the attention exercising the body does. But the good news is that meditation has gained a higher profile in recent years and these days there are classes and group that can help you get started.

 If you’re not interested in meditation, that's fine. But it's always worth looking at the kind of input you subject your mind to - and the effect it has when you try to be quiet and focus on a single object for any length of time.

 I know from my own experience that some of the most deeply satisfying moments come - for me - when I'm completely aware of - and alive to the moment I'm in, the beauty of the world around me.

 So why not try it - sit quietly for five minutes – watch the chatter in your mind and see if it subsides. Do this a few times and you may be surprised how much better it’ll make you feel.

Are you a "respectable" Buddhist?

posted 19 Jul 2012, 10:25 by Akasharaja Bruton

Natural morality vs conventional morality (quotes from The Essential Sangharakshita pgs 591 – 601)

“Natural morality refers to behaviour that is directly related to mental states, while conventional moral behaviour is a matter of custom and tradition, and has no basis in psychology, not being related to a specific mental state.”

“It is quite important to be sure within oneself whether one is really leading a moral life or just respecting the prejudices of the group within which one happens to be. Moral life is essentially a matter of skilful mental states expressed in skilful behaviour and skilful speech.”

“Of course, if you want to communicate the Dharma to a lot of people, you cannot afford to alienate them by causing offence, especially by breaking their taboos. At the same time, you need to be careful not to lose sight of what you are trying to communicate. It is easy to forget that the Buddhist message is a subversive one, that its values run counter to mundane or wordly norms, and that your commitment to its ethical principles may lead you on occasion to offend conventional notions of morality.”

“A true individual is someone who has developed self-awareness, through one discipline or another, and on that basis has a confidence and self-respect that does not depend on convention or fashion. “



1.     Have you ever been in a situation where you have offended conventional notions of morality for ethical or other reasons? What effect did it have on you and others in the situation?

2.     Are there any areas in your life where you feel you hold back with your ethical practice through fear of challenging the group norm?

3.     Sangharakshita says “Sometimes virtue and respectability coincide, but often they don’t. One may be both virtuous and respectable, but it is also possible to be very respectable and not at all virtuous, or highly virtuous and not at all respectable.”  Do you think it is possible to be a true individual and be virtuous and respectable at the same time? 

15 do's and don'ts in the Dharma life

posted 8 Jul 2012, 23:26 by Akasharaja Bruton

These were presented at Dharma Day on Saturday 7 July 2012 and occasioned some lively discussion. As these  notes were just that - notes - they are rather terse, feel free to contact me if you would like further clarification! Akasharaja

1.       If you can choose the skilful option, do: if you are aware of having a choice but don’t choose the skilful, at least dwell in the discomfort of knowing you’re being unskilful. This discomfort shows that your ethical sensibility – your shraddha, or confidence-trust in the Dharma – is alive and well.

2.       Don’t let yourself off the hook. Don’t rationalise or seek to justify unskilful behaviour.

3.       Be prepared to fail gracefully – try to fail better next time!

4.       Be careful what you say! Speech is a very immediate expression of mental states and one that can be fairly easily controlled with a little effort. Sticking to skilful speech has a strong, positively conditioning effect on the mind.

5.       Watch your ethical habits (samskaras). We all tend to respond in predictable ways to certain situations because we have become conditioned to do so. Once you are aware of your habits you can start to work on them. This will be easier if you can do what comes in the next point

6.       Open yourself up to your spiritual friends. Once you have built up confidence and trust in your Dharma friendships, open up your ethical life to scrutiny. Your friends may be better placed to see your samskaras than you are. Once you have reached a certain level of commitment, there shouldn’t be any off-limits corners in your ethical life!

7.       Don’t take your mental states too seriously. All things pass!

8.       Don’t compartmentalise your life. Don’t make Buddhism one of the things you do along with a whole load of other things or just at certain times. The Dharma should underpin everything else you do. You can never be an off-duty Buddhist!

9.       Don’t try to bargain with Samsara – that is, to assume that, if you arrange your life in a certain way, you can make conditioned existence work for you. As Yama, the lord of impermanence, holds the wheel of life in his grip, impermanence, insubstantiality and unsatisfactoriness will this side of insight one day have their way with you!

10.   Related to this is the importance of not just aiming at a nice life. Beware of complacency!

11.   Recall your own mortality. Think about your own inevitable death.

12.   Aim high. Stream entry is possible in this life.

13.   Cultivate pleasure in the Dharma. Joy is the key to spiritual progress.

14.   Cultivate a Dharmic view. Life is full of lessons for us as long as we correctly understand what happens to us.

15.      Transfer your merits. Remember that the Dharma life is not led just for your own sake!

Completing your cycles

posted 15 Apr 2012, 17:39 by Akasharaja Bruton

Today I had something of a breakthrough: instead of leaving clean washing with unironed shirts hanging around to be dealt with later, I decided instead to do the ironing and putting away as soon as the clothes were dry. This may be second nature to many of you, but to a "Perceiving" type (to use Myers-Briggs typology) like me - someone who tends to be spontaneous and do what interests him on a spur-of-the-moment basis - it represented quite a significant step forward.

In his book "Life with Full Attention", Maitreyabandhu talks about the significance of completing your cycles: finishing what you start. This has both practical and ethical-aesthetic effects: practical in that, in my case, the house isn't ongoingly festooned with clean washing whilst, at the same time, there is a complete lack of clean underwear in the place where it should be; and ethical-aesthetic inasmuch as making sure you finish what you have started contributes to the generation of positive mental states and is a reflection of what Bhante Sangharakshita calls the "mindfulness of things" - awareness of the objects in the world around you, coupled with heightened regard and care for them. There is something unaesthetic about slovenliness in one's dealing with things: after all, a space full of uncared-for objects is not an attractive space. Furthermore, an uncared-for external space is very often a reflection of an uncared-for mental space, and vice-versa: slovenliness of mind is likely to be reflected in one's surrounding space, and an untidy and unkempt external space will have a negative effect on the mind that is forced to inhabit it!

As I said, this may be obvious to many of you. But spare a thought for me as I dwell well-satisfied in the knowledge of a cycle completed and a slightly more perfumed mind.

And, in my defence, at least I can say that the washing in question is usually clean!

Criticism and the self

posted 8 Apr 2012, 23:16 by Akasharaja Bruton   [ updated 8 Apr 2012, 23:20 ]

I recently had to deal with some disturbing news: one of the translation agencies I work for gave me some negative feedback about my work and announced a scaling-back, for the time being at least, of the type and amount of work I can do for them. The e-mail came on a Friday afternoon, which rather put a damper on my weekend!
This wasn’t very nice, as anyone who has been criticised will know! But, as I reflected on the implications of the news, I came to realise that, oddly enough, my discomfort wasn’t so much about the possible loss of livelihood. No, what caused me pain was much more the challenge this presented to my self-view. Bear with me, and I’ll explain.
Buddhism tells us that all unenlightened people are subject to suffering in various forms. This isn’t of course to say that we suffer all the time – life for most of us is a mix of pleasurable and painful experience - but what it does mean is that a thread of suffering is woven right through the tapestry of individual lives: bodily pain, the loss of a relationship, fear of future unhappiness and a basic sense of lack are all forms of suffering that we will all encounter at some time or other. The tradition goes on to say that all emotional and mental suffering is due to our inability to see that everything is subject to change and nothing mundane can be relied on to make us happy. This goes in particular for our own individual self, which is no more than an ever-changing flux of passing physical, emotional and mental events which arise and pass away. But we believe that this self is somehow fixed and unchanging, fundamentally separate from the world around it – and the only way to bridge the gap - to be happy - is through things like material possessions, relationships, membership of groups of one kind or another - and status. And when they let us down - which they inevitably do - we suffer.
Which brings us back to my uncomfortable experience. As I discovered so painfully, my sense of identity revolves, among other things, around status: around the fact that I am a capable, professional translator, good with words, with a shrewd understanding of how language works. But to be told out of the blue that I might not be as capable and professional as I thought delivered a stiff challenge to this sense of self, and I was able to observe how my ego started thrashing about like a landed fish trying to hold on to certainty – they must be wrong, I must defend myself, how dare they…? This was very painful. Yet, objectively speaking, the facts were simple: if they were wrong, and I was as good as I thought I was, then there was no problem. If I wasn’t, I could learn from the experience and improve – again, no problem. Being criticised didn’t suddenly make me a bad or worthless person. But because this sense of self is so strong – and we invest so much in defending it – it was very difficult to be rational.
What I tried to do was observe the suffering brought about by the gyrations of my mind and see that the cause of my own suffering was – and is - my fixed sense of self. Not easy, but it kept things in perspective. Freedom from suffering isn’t to be found in blaming others for our unhappiness. The only way to be free is to see your habit patterns, acknowledge their hold on you, and work, time and again, on letting go of them.
So, the next time someone criticises you, consider this: either they have a point, which will provide an opportunity for you to grow and develop, or they don’t, so why get upset about it?