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.
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.