Read My Lips: The Buddha Was Not Fat…

By all accounts, Siddartha Gotama aka “the Buddha” or Buddha Shakyamuni, was a fine specimen of a man. With beautiful, curly hair, he was tall and muscular; a slammin’ athlete; and intellectually brilliant. And it was for reasons such as these that Devadatta, the Buddha’s cousin and brother-in-law, spent a good deal of time trying to kill him. But that’s another post…

So, all those big-bellied, bald “buddhas” that many people place on low shelves, fireplace mantles, chains hanging from their rear-view mirrors, and on top of their imagined Christo-Budo altars are not “the Buddha,” at all. These buddhas, often referred to as “Laughing Buddha,” “Happy Buddha,” and even “Fat Buddha” are really replicas of a monk known as Mi Lo Fa, Pu-Tai, or Budai. As to how Budai got that fat…. well, that, too is another post… And yes, it’s possible that somehow, ‘Budai’ got mispronounced or incorrectly translated as ‘Buddha’ (grimace), but translation is not my forte. Adding to the confusion, in some Asian languages, they use the same word for both ‘monk’ and ‘buddha.’

It’s also important to note that “Buddha” is not a first name (given name) or last name (surname). It is a title meaning something like “enlightened one.” And Buddhists believe that Siddartha Gotama was “the” Buddha (with a capital ‘b’) as well as that all people are ‘buddhas’ (even if just potentially so) with a lower case ‘b.’ This is why we have (B)uddhas and (b)uddhas…

Statues of the true Buddha represent him as the slender man he was: he didn’t have “a ride,” and he only ate between the hours of dawn and noon — which is the case, to this very day, with all Buddhist monastics. Additionally, Buddha Shakyamuni (Shakya, refers to his clan, and ‘muni’ means “silent one”) followed his own wardrobe recommendations which stated that only the right shoulder be exposed. So, it is highly unlikely that he, like Budai, went around with his entire chest and looks-like-Alien-Resurrection-about-to-explode belly exposed for all the world to see.

Just sayin’…

Namaste.

Come, Let Us Reason Together…

We often think of ‘renunciates,’ i.e., those living lives of “ascetic self-denial,” as holy people who have given everything away for the purpose of living lives of poverty and contemplation. Yet, even after giving away all of our material possessions, we can still be encumbered by immaterial ‘possessions’ such as anger, greed, and delusion. And lately, it seems to me that if we could free ourselves of our delusions, we’d be done with anger and greed.

If we cannot stop clinging to our delusions, we might as well keep our money, fine clothes, big houses, or just the hard-earned pittances of the grueling 9-5 minimum-wage existence because nothing will change, and as the old saying goes, it’s easier to be miserable with money than without it. Nothing will change until we ‘let go’ and stop clinging to our puffed up sense of ‘self’; our delight in others’ misfortune; our need for others’ approval; and our “right” to revenge. I know this because I’ve lived “with” and “without,” and additionally, despite being aware of some of my delusions, my actions often tell me, at the most disheartening times, that I am still  under the influence of those delusions.

In the  Dhammapada, the book to which I like to refer to as the “Buddhist Bible,” the final verse of chapter 7 says:

Delightful to the worthy
are the places where others
find no joy.
Being free of the pull of passions,
the worthy rejoice anywhere
precisely because
they seek no delight.

That verse means something to me because I’ve read it about a million times. And it was, perhaps, the 999,998th time that it really started to mean something to me. It is now a quite common experience for me to reread something in the Buddhist canon that I’ve already reread, maybe hundreds of times, only to discover that it had either completely gone over my head or hadn’t even entered it before.

I keep mentioning my deficits, not because I want people to think how “humble” I am, but rather because it’s so scary to write about these topics because I am not a monastic, monastic scholar, or initiate. Also, as someone who has always loved words, and was an English major in college, I’ve learned, through my studies, and as a result of my meditation practice, that words are all but useless. The Buddha told his followers NOT to believe what he said because he said it, but rather to believe it because they’d EXPERIENCED it. Now,  that’s  humility. But it’s also true. We will not attain nibbana (nirvana) by reading “just the right book,” and even the Buddha, himself, if he still walked this Earth, could  not  grant or give us nibbana (nirvana) with a magical wave of his hand. As he directed us, we must be our own saviors:

“Monks, be islands unto yourselves,[1] be your own refuge, having no other; let the Dhamma be an island and a refuge to you, having no other. Those who are islands unto themselves… should investigate to the very heart of things:[2] ‘What is the source of sorrow, lamentation, pain, grief and despair? How do they arise?’ [What is their origin?] — from the Attadiipaa Sutta: An Island to Oneself. translated from the Pali by Maurice O’Connell Walshe

I must say, here, that I am so fascinated by this directive to be islands unto ourselves. Prior to this, as any good English major, I’d always quoted the great poet, John Donne:

“No man is an island…”

Mr. Donne was very right — and very wrong…

It’s very different “knowing” something because someone (even a reputable someone) has told us something, and knowing it because we’ve experienced  it. This is why someone could tell us the ultimate “secret to happiness,” but their words might mean nothing to us because we are either not ready to “hear” or “see” it, or simply because they are simply not the right words for us.

“Eureka moments” are usually quite personal and uniquely fashioned.

Namaste.

May You Grow Two More Legs and Always Be Close to the Ground…

Recently, as I rode the bus, I observed a most delightful sight. A small dog, a Maltese, to be exact, was quickly scampering across the surface of an icy parking lot, pulling behind him a thin boy of no more than seven years of age, and perhaps, sixty pounds. The dog looked like it was having the time of its life, and the boy, if not being pulled, was also running with no obvious concern for falling. The Maltese is a small dog and quite low to the ground. Its average weight is around five to seven pounds, with a height of about six to eight inches.

As a middle-aged woman living in a climate where winters last about four to five months with lots of snow, and the cold can be bitter and prolonged, I spend quite a bit of time trying  not  to fall. Despite my ascending age, my imagination remains quite vivid, and I am constantly involved in making connections. “Making connections” is my definition for ‘learning.’

So, it didn’t take long for me to put myself in that young boy’s place, imagining how different the picture would have been had it been I walking that dog. First, I wouldn’t have been dragged anywhere; and second, if the dog had been larger, and I had the potential for being dragged, I would have definitely been fearful, being much taller than that boy, of falling. Walking on only two legs and being over five feet tall, I’d have much farther to fall to the ground than that little boy or the dog.

Then, I thought of that tiny dog’s obvious joy in being outside, scampering fairly free, with no fear of falling. It literally had nowhere to go even if its legs went out from under it! And then I thought of the “four legs” of the joy of a Buddhist’s life: the Buddha’s Four Noble Truths. Working to live by, and meditate on, these Four Noble Truths can help us to remain grounded and less likely to fall by constantly reminding us that not only are we not as “tall” as we think, but also that should we find ourselves “sliding” on the icy pavement of circumstance, there is a sure way to regain our footing. They remind us that suffering is part of living and that we are not alone in this suffering.

There are many renderings of The Four Noble Truths. Two of my favorites are:

  1. Life brings suffering;
  2. That suffering is a part of living;
  3. That suffering can be ended;
  4. There is a path that leads to the end of suffering.

I’m currently searching for where I found the above rendering, and hope to soon post the authorship/location.

The second rending appears on the Website, Buddhaweb.org, under the title  Essentials of Buddhism:

  1. Suffering exists;
  2. Suffering arises from attachment to desires;
  3. Suffering ceases when attachment to desire ceases;
  4. Freedom from suffering is possible by practicing The [Noble] Eightfold Path.

These Four Noble Truths are difficult for many to accept because the implication is that we cannot simply pray to ‘God’ to take our suffering away, or expect to live a life free of suffering, immediately and easily. I was once a practicing Christian. And before I continue, I must say that I know many Christians who take great comfort in their faith and much joy in sharing it. So, if this works for them, I am happy for them. It’s just that one day, when praying to God to make something a certain way for me, I realized that if “He” did so, it would be at the expense, happiness, and possibly even safety of others. I wondered how ‘God’ answered every good person’s prayer fairly, justly, and to everyone’s satisfaction — at the same time. I also came to the conclusion that for me, it was not “enough” for me to simply say, “It was not God’s will” when something did not go my way. I was also disheartened and dissatisfied with the idea that, sometimes, our lives simply have to be miserable, and we must just deal with it because, in the “great by-and-by,” we will one day be happy forever. This is how slaves were taught to deal with their misery. “God will reward you after you die.” The Buddha said that we can be happy in this life. This life.

This is why, today, I wish for everyone to grow two more legs and always live life, joyously, and without fear, like that Maltese —  ‘close to the ground.’

Namaste.