Occupation: Monastic, Part Two

Yesterday, I wrote a bit about how monastics in the past often spent their time. I had started to answer a question people often ask me: What do you do all day? (Polite emphasis on the second “do.”) I found myself digressing because there is an oft-held idea that monastics spend much of their time sitting in meditation.

In the past, in a less crowded and slower-paced world, a reclusive life was quite possible. But that life was by no means easy as anyone who has tried to meditate for eight hours a day will attest.

So having a glimpse of what monastics did in the past, how do monastics today spend their time?

I can’t speak for other monastics other than to say that all the ones I know are very busy. The world has caught up with us. It’s tough to find a quiet forest or a secluded mountain these days.

So for those who have asked what do I do—my primary work is editing translations. This was the major reason I became a nun: to have more time to work on translating the talks of my teacher, Ven. Master Chin Kung. Usually I try to work with our team on one main project at a time. We use the Internet for web-conferencing, a vast improvement over emailing files and just writing comments. Periodically we get urgent requests for translations from people in China, Taiwan, and Australia. It’s “fun” when we get requests from all three at one time. (That’s when coffee moves from the beverage category to the medicinal category.) I also do editing for other societies.

In addition to the editing work, I also teach, write books and this blog, record audio books, answer prisoner’s correspondence, prepare materials for publication and supervise their production, and work with websites. Basically, I help others when they ask for assistance and also try to decide what needs to be done and then do it.

People also ask about my living arrangements.

I have remained in my mother's apartment since I now have several classes that I teach locally. I have turned the apartment living room, dining room, and larger bedroom into a Buddhist center. This arrangement works very well because we hold classes and one-day retreats here.

For those who have asked, I do my own cooking. It gets me away from the computer! Thankfully, my neighbors are away during the day. (I talk to myself a lot when I'm cooking—sort of a Buddhist nun stand-up comedy routine. My mother would have approved.)

Whenever I need help, there are wonderful people here to help. Jim brought over some salt to put down after the sleet this week and Ruth hung my thermal drapes. (I helped her by working on the computer.) Jim and Hank put the bookcases together. Kathleen offered to get me locally-grown organic produce from the farmer’s market in Goshen. Geneele arranged for me to see her optometrist brother-in-law. And the list goes on and on.    

So basically, what I "do" is stay happily busy. 

Occupation: Monastic, Part One

In the past, the world was less crowded and the pace of life was slower. Monastics withdrew from the life of a householder to live a more reclusive life. They renounced a life in which family and work responsibilities, and earning a livelihood were of prime concern. They did so to be able to dedicate their lives to progressing more rapidly along the path to awakening.

To become a monastic, the individual needed to be sure family responsibilities would be met in the future. For example, if the parents were elderly, the future monastic needed to arrange for their support. They might have asked siblings, neighbors, or friends if they would be able to help. Family responsibilities well taken care of, the person could leave home and begin to follow the occupation of a monastic.

Depending on the tradition, there would be different kinds of work for the monastic to do. The work usually entailed cleaning, maintenance, and sometimes farming and cooking. When finished with their daily work, the monastics would practice and learn. Different traditions and masters would have their students do these in varying proportions.

Contact with the outside world was limited. Monasteries and nunneries were often located in forests and on mountains and, thus, not readily accessible. This inaccessibility provided more time for the monastics to do their work, practice, and study.

In China, for example, it was traditional for new monastics to spend most of their time working. After a few years, they would be able to spend eight hours a day in study and eight hours in cultivation. Spending sixteen hours a day on study and cultivation, and having limited contact with the outside world, left them with little time for wandering thoughts. In this way, they could advance in their practice fairly quickly.

So monastic's lives, which were very busy, were somewhat removed from society.

A Christmas Carol

Earlier this month, I was asked what I would be doing for Christmas. I replied that after having arrived in Toronto on Christmas eve, I would be giving my first lecture at the US-Canada Pure Land Buddhist Retreat. On hearing my reply that I would be working, Cameo and Jim were probably both even happier they were taking me out to dinner with them! I thought of how I was looking forward to trip: lecturing on the Amitabha Sutra, participating in a retreat, seeing old friends.  

After I got home that evening, I learned that in the United States, more people will have heart attacks today than any other day of the year. It's a combination of stress, too much partying, people not following their regular schedules and forgetting their medicine, and several other reasons. A day of celebration has, for too many people, become a day of anxiety and overindulgence.

And there is more. This is also the time of year the suicide rate increases as depression becomes more prevalent.

Regrets. Memories. Expectations. We think others are having fun but we’re not. We think by indulging ourselves and others, we’ll all be happy.

One of my favorite movies at this time of year is the 1951 movie, A Christmas Carol. Scrooge learned how to embody the spirit of Christmas by being considerate, by spending time with his family, and by giving small but needed gifts. Maybe he was on to something...

Social Anxiety

 

A recent post on the bog "No Impact Man"

Anyway, the day No Impact ended, Michelle and I bolted out to see Margo at the Wedding. The fact that we were seeing a movie was such a big deal in the narrative of No Impact that the documentary film makers even filmed us going to the cinema. A year of no movies. We were finally free. This was going to be great, right?

So guess what happened?

We were kind of bored.

The thing is, movies are okay, but honestly, it turned out we weren't missing much. Plus Michelle went to look around Barneys and came out not even wanting to buy anything. Plus, we've both ended up walking out of other movies.

You know what it is? We never missed movies, per se. We never missed stuff. But there was still some kind of pull, and here's what it was: wanting to have what other people around us had, wanting to do what they did, wanting to be where they were. In other words, it was, more or less, social anxiety.

If we get to do the things that other people do and have the things that other people have, that means we're as loveable as everyone else. If we go the places they go, then we're as cool and, therefore, again, loveable. Consumption has become a surrogate for being loved.

Instead of going and spending time with people we buy things or show up places like movies because the culture has sold us a bill of goods that says that this is what will make people love us.

How sad. So many of us are a bit lonely and need more human contact. We think the way to get it is to buy things. But really, if we want to be loved, what we we need is living rooms full of people instead of closets full of stuff. We need community. Isn't that an important point? We could be happy without the stuff and without wrecking the planet. We just need to hang out more.

How Buddhist! We have bought into the concept that "more will make us happy."

But in reality, with less, we will find contentment, and wisdom. 

Is the Pure Land real

Question: Is the Pure Land real? Why do you chant?

Response: The Pure Land exists on two levels. On one level, the Pure Land is a very real land that is far to the west of us. But on the ultimate level of understanding, the Pure Land is already within us. We ordinary beings see everything in terms of duality: pleasant or unpleasant, like or dislike, gain or loss. Buddhas no longer see duality.

They understand that we are all one and that everything outside of us is already within us. “Me” doesn’t exist for “I” am part of everything that is. When my mind focuses solely on Amitabha, I am Amitabha. When it focuses solely on the Pure Land, I am one with the Pure Land. It is already within me.