Volusia Buddhist Fellowship

For a few days after taking the Eight Precepts, I was in a really interesting state of mind. I realized I had felt this way before, but I couldn’t quite place when or where. Then I recognized it: I had felt this way during retreats.

At the temple, I always figured this state was what happened when I started meditating more than usual, but maybe it’s just what happens when I’m not giving in to the usual distractions. It was a little disconcerting, at first, but I think that was because all my usual “crutches” were temporarily yanked away. Now, into the sixth day of this, I’m getting used to it.

I’m much more focused on work than normal, which is good. The need to get a lot of work done was one incentive I had for doing this—I really wanted to keep my head in the preparations for the first Brahma-Viharas and Rational Buddhism workshop. If nothing else, this has encouraged me to devote more time to that.

I talked a little bit to the inmates about this renunciation project during our meeting at the prison yesterday. They seemed interested and had a lot of questions, but as we were talking, I thought, “Wow, you know, I’ve given up a lot less than they did.”

Of course, their renunciation of material comforts wasn’t voluntary and there was nothing “spiritual” about it. Still, my “giving up” of dinner seems like nothing compared to what they deal with on a daily basis when trying to eat enough decent food to sustain life. And okay, I’m celibate for a few months. But at least I don’t have to try to meditate while two guys make out on the next bunk.

Most people seem to “get” why I’m doing this, or at least not totally misconstrue it. A friend even came up to me at the Y and wanted to touch me to borrow some of the “serene energy” I was generating. She was kidding about hoping the serenity would rub off, but she was having a bad day, so I wondered if maybe there’s a “for the benefit of other beings” element of this practice that seems more apparent than I realized.

In Thailand (and at Thai temples in the US), people sometimes take the Eight Precepts and then live at a monastery, but don’t become monks. Instead of taking the robes, they dress in all white, and then they essentially live a monastic life but without quite as many restrictions. It’s useful for the monks, because the white-clad supporters can do a lot of things the monks can’t do.

If you want to see some photos of monastic life in Thailand, visit my Holding Up the Heavens health blog here.

When the Buddha was still alive, there was a monk named Ven. Bhaddiya, who had been a king before he ordained. Ven. Bhaddiya would go into the forest, sit at the base of a tree and start meditating. And while meditating, he would repeatedly exclaim, “What bliss! What bliss!”

The other monks heard that. Some of them thought maybe Bhaddiya was crazy, but they talked about it and decided he was probably recalling the bliss of kingship. Some of them went to the Buddha and told him about this monk who was meditating in the forest and reliving his life of kingly comfort.

The Buddha said, “Go call him—tell him I wish to see him.”

When Ven. Bhaddiya came to the Buddha, the teacher asked, “Is it true, Bhaddiya that you go into the forest, sit at the foot of a tree and repeatedly exclaim, ‘What bliss! What bliss!’”

Bhaddiya said it was true.

“What do you mean when you’re exclaiming, ‘What bliss!’?” the Buddha asked.

Bhaddiya explained that life had been very good when he was a king—he had ridden everywhere on the finest elephants, eaten the best food from the best tableware, and so on. But at the same time, he had lived in fear—he had to have guards around his home and with him when he traveled to protect those fine sensual comforts, and thus he lived, he said, agitated, distrustful and afraid.

Having ordained, he had renounced all those material comforts. Now he walked rather than rode and ate whatever was put in his simple alms bowl. But it was a tradeoff—he had lost the “bliss” of these material pleasures, which he realized to be fleeting, unstable, and stressful. In return, he received freedom from distrust, freedom from agitation and freedom from fear.

“I live unconcerned, unruffled, my wants satisfied, with my mind like a wild deer,” he said. “This is what I have in mind when I repeatedly exclaim, ‘What bliss! What bliss!’”

Yesterday, after I gave a sermon to the Unitarian Universalist congregation in Palatka, I went back to DeLand, ate leftover pizza for lunch, and then Michelle and I went to Wat Florida Dhammaram. We got there just in time for the dharma talk, after which we requested the Eight Precepts from Than Chaokhun.

“For how long?” he asked. “One or two days?” He seemed surprised when we said we were going to keep them for the full three months of Vassa, but then pleased.

Of course, the abbot, a longtime monk, knows the value of renunciation.

There’s a misperception that Buddhists think the source of problems is desire. That’s partly true, but desire itself isn’t the problem—it’s the desire that creates problems that is the problem.

There’s nothing evil about a bowl of ice cream, right? There’s nothing harmful about wanting ice cream occasionally. But what if your doctor says you’re dangerously overweight or your cholesterol is high? Now that desire can be a problem if it leads to a craving, which leads to a clinging, to which you give in, or you feel depressed because you’re deprived.

Practicing renunciation, even if you do it one day a week, or during an annual retreat, or during 20 minutes of meditation in the morning, is a way to work with your desires, to see which ones create problems and which ones you can release, and then to let go of the problem ones.

It was very interesting to see what happened in my mind after taking the Eight Precepts. When I’ve done this before, it was always during a retreat at the temple, where my life revolves around meditation and all the usual “triggers” aren’t there—where going without dinner, television and physical intimacy are expected.

Now, however, I’m following those training rules in the context of my “normal” life. So almost immediately, the mechanism of habitual craving, with all its subterfuge, its rationalizations, and it’s habits and patterns kicked in:

“Oh, stop at 7-11 for coffee and a donut for the drive home…Maybe I can pick up Chinese food for dinner…I wonder if there’s anything new on Netflix…,” and so on.

I meditated for an hour after we got home from the temple, and that helped. I have to say it was nice to sit and read instead of watching television, too (I’m reading a book on Jodo Shinshu Buddhism at present.)

I plan to meditate for a half-hour in the morning and an hour ever evening, except when I’m leading a meeting like the one in Palm Coast tonight. The hour went okay, except that the jhana ended abruptly after 45 minutes—another habitual response, I imagine, to the fact that my longer sittings usually don’t exceed 45 minutes these days.

I will continue every few days to share with you what I learn from this process of real-time renunciation. I’ll also start blogging here at holdinguptheheavens.com about any physical challenges I face.

During the next few months, my spiritual practice is going to focus around one key Buddhist principle that I think is somewhat overlooked by many Western lay Buddhists, the benefits of renunciation.

In India, there’s a rainy season that lasts roughly from mid-July to mid-October. When the Buddha was alive, his monks would spend the “rains” period with him, receiving teachings and practicing the dharma, and then disperse again when the rains ended.

Since all these monks were assembled in one place for three months, householders would also come to the monastery and listen to the dharma. After the Buddha’s death, monks still assembled at monasteries during the rains and householder followers still came to the monasteries to listen to the dharma during that time of year.

Over time, this season became known as the Rains Retreat or Vassa (Pali for “rain.”) Today, Southeast Asian Buddhist communities observe Vassa with special services, often including a series of dharma talks that begins with the sutra Setting the Wheel of Dharma in Motion and going through a fairly comprehensive review of the key Buddhist teachings.

Many Theravada Buddhists will also observe stricter precepts—training rules—during the rains, or otherwise intensify their Buddhist practices. In fact, the period is sometimes referred to in the West as “Buddhist Lent.” I don’t care for that term “Lent,” though, because I think there’s a big difference between the way the purpose of Lent is commonly perceived and the purpose behind Vassa observances.

By tradition, Lent corresponds with the 40-day fast Christ underwent prior to the crucifixion. As it was explained to me when I was growing up (in the Baptist church, where it was generally seen as something “the Catholics” did), Lent was seen as a way to identify with his sufferings. (If you’re a Christian, please read ahead before you write an angry rebuttal.)

In Buddhism, however, the period isn’t about identifying with suffering. Rather, it’s about experiencing the benefits of renunciation—the deeper happiness that comes when we learn to transcend our attachment to things we think we “need” in order to feel good.

You might say practicing renunciation is a sort of trade-off—we swap short-term gratification for long-term good. Let me give you an example of how that works:

I smoked for a long time. Smoking, for me, was pleasurable. I would sometimes smoke a pipe, and I could enjoy selecting nice tobacco and the pleasant aroma, flavor and sensation associated with it. I also smoked cigarettes, and one of the best feelings of the day came in the morning when I’d light that first one and get that nicotine rush. When I refrained from smoking even for a little while, a very unpleasant craving would arise, but one cigarette could eliminate that. Smoking helped me cope with boredom, anxiety and any number of other adversities.

However, there was always this idea that “This tobacco is going to satisfy me.” When you want a cigarette or want to get rid of the unpleasant craving, you have this sense that somehow this cigarette or this bowlful is going make everything okay. You’re not thinking, “This one is going to feel good, and then I’ll feel bad again.” You just focus on the first half—the “feel good” part.

At some point, though, you realize, “Yes, for the next hour or so, I’ll feel okay. But then I’m going to want another one. And even after the cigarette is gone, the smoky smell lingers, the toxins are damaging my body, and so on.” When you realize that the disadvantages outweigh the advantages, you resolve to trade away the short-term “good” for the longer-term “better.”

If you quit smoking, you’ll have to deal with the cravings that arise. You’ll have to remind yourself that the cravings, like the relief that comes from smoking, are also impermanent. The craving is dukkha, but giving in to the craving would create much more dukkha.

If you succeed in quitting smoking, you will have traded the short-term “refuge” of smoking for the long-term refuge of non-smoking, including better health, cleaner-smelling clothes, and so on. Similarly, when you practice Renunciation, you trade short-term comforts for long-term spiritual growth and the greater spiritual ease that comes with it.

From some of my research, by the way, I suspect many Christians who sincerely observe Lent experience this same benefit from renunciation. Also, during Vassa, the heightened awareness of one’s Buddhist practice brings one closer to the dharma; I imagine a Christian would say the increased focus on one’s Christian practice brings one closer to God.

A few months ago, Michelle and I talked about the idea of making this year’s Vassa into a time of intensive practice, the way some devout Southeast Asian people do. I spent some time as a monk, observing the 227 monastic rules, and normally during this time I try to step up my meditation practice or something. This year, however, we decided to explore renunciation by keeping the Eight Precepts for the entire period.

Michelle has discussed the details of this very well on her blog, but I’ll summarize them here. You’re probably aware of the traditional Five Precepts, where one vows to refrain from killing; taking what is not freely given; harmful speech; harmful sexual actions; and the use of intoxicants until the mind is clouded.

The Eight Precepts, which are reserved for retreats or holy days, go a bit farther. During this Vassa, we will of course refrain from killing, stealing, harsh speech and the abuse of intoxicants. But we will also refrain from eating after noon; all sexual activity; music, dancing, makeup and jewelry; and lazing around in bed.

This may be a tough three lunar months, but it’s only 12 weeks. I’ll let you know how it goes, sharing updates on my adventure in renunciation here. As related topics arise, I’ll also go into more detail about the practice of renunciation.

I’ll also talk a little about any related physical effects on my health and fitness blog, too, Holding up the Heavens. And please visit Michelle’s blog and see how she’s coming along with her Vassa practice, too.

I have been doing some posting on a Buddhists in Business group on Linked-In, and a member, Vasu, posed a question about how to “be a good Buddhist” in an era when produce is grown using pesticides and medicine may have been tested on animals—can we really practice, given that wanton killing of insects and harming other animals is so widespread in our society? And, he wondered, how does this related to the Buddha’s allowance that members of the sangha eat meat?

There’s a little problem with the idea of being “a good Buddhist,” but I’ll deal with that another time. But questions about how to live without causing harm come up frequently—someone at the inmate group at Tomoka Correctional started asking about vegetarianism this week, in fact. So I thought I would post some of the dialogue here, beginning with my initial response to Vasu’s question:

The Buddha’s cousin, Devadatta, pressed him to require his monks to be vegetarian, and he said no: It was better to be easy to maintain and not make special requests of their supporters. When it comes to laypersons, however, the instructions aren’t quite as clear. While he didn’t tell us to be vegetarian, he did say “business in meat” lay outside the practice of Right Livelihood. So how do you interpret that? If it extends to the butcher, does it also extend to the customer?

The Buddha recognized that living things consumed other living things. Consider the story from his childhood, when he first realized the cycle of suffering: While sitting under a tree watching his father breaking the ground with a jeweled plow to ceremonially begin the growing season, he saw birds coming down to feast on the insects suddenly exposed. So living requires eating, and eating is dukkha, right?

There’s a sutra, “A Son’s Flesh,” that is pretty harsh stuff, where the Buddha advises some monks how to become non-attached from food (look at Access to Insight for the Puttamansa Sutta). So the Buddha recognized, I think, that even vegetarians have to kill in order to live, and we should keep that in mind as we go through our lives and take realistic steps to minimize the suffering we cause other beings.

So how do we reconcile that reality with the first precept? We don’t have to. If you look at the Pali form of the precept, we don’t vow to refrain from killing—we vow to “set our mind on” (samadhiyami) refraining from killing. The precepts are training rules, and we use them to train our minds to transcend suffering, just as we’d use a coach’s advice to train our bodies to run a half-marathon, for example. So if you want less suffering, train to suffer less.

This doesn’t mean take an “Oh, well” attitude toward killing or other precepts. We should perfect our training in the precepts, but we shouldn’t expect perfection. I think it was Thich Naht Hanh who said something like, “If I want to go north, I look for the North Star. That doesn’t mean I want to go to the North Star, but I want to go in that direction.”

And by the way, I don’t eat meat unless I need to for health reasons or I’m traveling and refraining from it is impractical. I have two teachers, however—Phra Vijitrdhammapani, a Thai Theravada monk, and Rev. Koyo Kubose on the Mahayana side–and both eat meat. It’s a personal choice; let your practice guide you in that decision.

VASU: For someone like me who was afraid to take any action, it’s such a relief listening to you. Since even eating plants causes killing, do you think that being on alms is the only way to totally refrain from killing?

SEKIYO: Vasu, even living solely on alms won’t prevent you from some form of killing. In an earlier reply to your post, someone mentioned the Jains who cover their mouths to prevent inhaling insects, sweep the ground where they walk, etc. But if you drive or ride from one place to the other, you’ll probably cause the death of something.

If you’re alive, you’re probably going to cause harm. But if you’re not alive, there’s not much you can do to help other beings toward enlightenment, right? So, you know, remember this is the Middle Way. That doesn’t mean “kill in moderation,” but don’t be extreme in your views toward it.

VASU: Thanks Sensei, I am really honored to get an answer from you. I believe that if we cause death without our knowledge, it would not affect our kamma. I got this from a story of an enlightened blind monk who was stepping on ants. Sensei, I feel we are enquiring into the facts, and the Buddha himself wished us to do that, so we are strong when we speak about logic, dhamma and science with others.

The Buddha said we should have a strong sangha to protect this dhamma, and I believe that only inquiring like this can make us strong. Is this okay, or am I just looking like a fake trying to show off?

SEKIYO: No, you don’t seem fake or like you’re showing off. There is nothing wrong with inquiring into the teachings and how to practice. The Buddha encouraged us to be heedful and develop discernment. There are three steps to developing discernment: hearing and understanding the teaching, analyzing it to see if it makes sense, and putting it into practice so that we realize the fruits of practice.

There are times when one should avoid over-analyzing–it’s easy for some people to get caught up in the intellectual process and never get around to realizing the fruits of practice. But as long as you watch out for that trap–as long as you do your Buddhism not just with your brain but also with your heart–you’ll make spiritual progress.

Volusia Buddhist Fellowship is a nonsectarian Buddhist organization based in DeLand, Florida. We are administratively and politically independent and not part of any formal organizational hierarchy, but our spiritual leadership is affiliated with the Bright Dawn Institute for American Buddhism.

Bright Dawn emphasizes the universal teachings of the historic Gautama Buddha, focusing on individual spiritual growth rather than any sectarian dogma or ritual.

Regular meetings are at the First Unitarian Universalist Church of West Volusia, 116 S. Clara Ave., DeLand, and are held every Wednesday at 7 p.m. and on the last Sunday of each month, also at 7. The monthly Sunday meeting is a good time to get acquainted with members and leadership; you are welcome to arrive as early as 6 p.m. for those meetings for tea and social time.

We also organize or participate in several regular special events, like Change Your Mind Day and various meditation retreats. Please check our Meetings and Events page for updates.

Our meetings and events are open to anyone with an interest in meditation and Buddhism—it is not necessary to “be a Buddhist” to attend. Meetings tend to be fairly informal, with a short service consisting of some group readings, a short comment from the meeting leader, a period of meditation and time for open discussion of meditation and dharma.

We typically meditate for around 20 minutes, although we normally meditate for a longer period on the last Wednesday of each month. We have guided meditation on the first and third Wednesdays and most Sunday meetings, so those new to meditation are encouraged to attend those meetings. However, those who need instruction are always encouraged to ask for guidance whenever it’s needed.

For more information, please feel free to phone us at (386) 738-3715.