Front seat Buddhist

Lay leader day

A month or so ago was my first experience as the chair of our Sunday service. As a lay leader part of our responsibilities to the temple is to be the chair of the service and to guide the path of the service, to introduce the sequence of the service and to lead the meditation aspiration and the meditation compassion.

The chair needs to stand in front of the Hondo at a podium when he or she introduces each segment of the service. In order to stand at the podium in the front the chair obviously needs to sit in a front row. Being the Backseat Buddhist that I am this was a new experience for me.

As many people do I have my favorite seat and my favorite seat is on the backseat on left side aisle of the Hondo. I would say over 90% of my time attending Sunday services my chosen seat has been in the back row on the right side.  Sometimes someone gets to “my seat” before me and then I need to sit elsewhere. I will stay close to the backseat and sit in the second row from the back.

I sit in the backseat so I can be as far away from the incense as possible (remember I wrote about my incense allergies in the first post in this blog). But sitting in the backseat provides many fringe benefits. I get to observe many things. I have a global view of the service and of those attending the service. 

The most obvious observation is that I see where everyone else sits and most Sangha members have their favorite preferred seats and I can tell you where they are.  A Backseat Buddhist can easily identify when there are visitors in the service and also knows when new visitors have temporarily displaced other Sangha members from their favorite seats.  Much like in college when students sit all semester in the same seat where they sat on the first day of class. Then one day a student sits in a different seat, which then bumps all other students into sitting in a different seat.  For some reason the students can handle this shift for that day but by the next class students are back to their first day of class seat. So, when first time visitors come to service some Sangha members may have to make the same transitional shift away from the comfort of  their favorite seats. Actually this simple act of changing seats puts into action a Buddhist ideology of causes and conditions. 

A Backseat Buddhist has a view of the Naijin where he or she can see the hustsodon and all the symbols that represent various aspects of Buddhism.  Sitting in the back seat for me is like looking at a play or a piece of art. I get to see the aesthetic appreciation rather than being too close to see the true essence of my experience.

I digress…. back to the front row

As the chair for the service when I had to sit in the front row in between the various introductions on the service I would make casual observations. To be honest I saw very little.  I could see the sensei who sits on the stage left in the Naijin and I could see the hustsodon.  But I could not see the other Sangha members and I could not see the lay ministers on the stage right of the Naijin and I could not see the global beauty of the Naijin. However, I did have a more detailed view of that which is on the Naijin.  

I could see a few people to the right of me if I turned my body a little.  When I went to the podium in the front to perform the introductions I could then see the entire Sangha facing front. I saw their faces while usually I only see the back of heads.

I did not see much of their faces because introduction times are brief, but when I did see their faces they had kind joyful encouraging expressions. The best time I saw the collective face of the Sangha was at the end of the service when sharing the announcements. Like a good teacher, I tired to make eye contact with as many sections of the Hondo as possible and not just to look at one section. 

I noticed that the left side of the Hondo had a few more Sangha members than on the right side. I was impressed that the Sangha members tend to sit throughout the temple so that not just the back is full or not just the front is full. The Sangha members nicely represent throughout the temple.

Like me, as a Backseat Buddhist, there are right or left middle seat Buddhists, or right or left middle semi front seat Buddhists, and yes, there are other backseat Buddhists. Each Sangha member has his/her reason why they chose to sit where they do.

The aroma of the incense was not as bad as I thought it might be – but I was armed with mints, which helped me.  I also had a modest cold, which might have diffused the incense.

I noticed as a Front Seat Buddhist one needs a good night sleep so he/she does not nod off every now and then.  Someone sitting not far from me had that dreaded experience of the head nodding and almost falling asleep and then doing a quick head jerk to wake up.  I really needed to bite my lip and not laugh a little when watching this person but watching helped to take away a little of the nervousness I had as my first chairperson experience.

The next week after being the chair I returned to being a Backseat on the Aisle Buddhist.  It is not just a comfort level and away from the incense for me in the backseat but it is also a learning and observing experience.  Maybe with time I will become adventurous and move up a row or two and in doing so I will learn new experiences and new aspects of being a Buddhist. But I do not see this adventure in the near future. Remember if I change my seat I will cause the ripple effect of others who may then need to change their seats, and that is a lot of responsibility. 

Maybe in the near future, if you come to service, you just might see me seating is a different seat but not too far from my Backseat.

Namu Amida Butso

BSB

"Ushiro ni suwatta monto"

Buddha Baby

A little over thirty years ago I wrote this story. I have shared it with family members and a few friends.  I think that it is a nice story to share on this blog. 

BUDDHA BABY

 By T S Mee

I see out of the corner of my eye, a reflection in the mirror.  It is a body, not my body, but a Buddha Body.  Round and full, firm and strong.  Yet, I see my face attached to this body.  

I realize that this body I have had for seven months is not just my body, but a body of the universe that needs not to be told how to function, but according to the laws of nature and the forces within it, knows how to perform as repeated in history.  

Getting up and down is performed with more caution and less haste.  I have not seen my pubic hair for months.  This growth I have felt is not just mine, but one shared by another.  

No, I am not fat. I am pregnant, full of life and energy.  

My Buddha Body is the Temple for my Buddha Baby.  My Buddha Baby will enter this world complete with his Buddha being, naked, round, and full, firm and strong. He will be a miniature of me.  

I did not create my Buddha Baby. I conceived him.  My body builds him.  

Nature took command knowing the appropriate time schedule for the precise timing of this bodybuilding event.  Mother Nature is the architect and contractor; I furnish the supplies.  I assist by practicing positive health.  

I still do not recognize myself when I catch a glimpse of me in the mirror, but then, again, I am not myself.  I have become an ourselves, sharing my body and my life.  This must be why I have a Buddha Body, so that I know I am not just me anymore.  

As time passes my Buddha Body continues to grow and my Buddha Baby becomes more active.  A right jab, a left jab, a right and then a left again.  You are no longer egg + sperm, you are you.  I can feel you move, your arms, your feet, and yes, even your hiccups.  I even hear your heartbeat.  

I have to admit my fascination for my belly button.  It is so round, and big and flat.  It looks very much like an eye.  My third eye is not in the center of my forehead, but is also in the center of my Buddha Body.  I guess even in the fetal stages a mother keeps a close eye on her babe.  

My dear Buddha Baby, I have held you within me for a few months and several days.  I have known your presence from the first minute of conception.  Whether from the modern term of women’s premonition or the cosmic knowing that I knew you were to exist.  I knew you were to be. I knew when you called to me it was time for you to be born.   I entrusted us to what I call (Obi-Wan) Kenobi knowing.  A knowing that you and I are a duet in life.  

In the beginning I did not feel your physical being, just my physiological reactions to the new guest I was housing.  But it was not long before I became tired and had far less energy than usual but never did I feel nauseated.  My life had a new joy and lust for living.  

I am now never alone.  I have a constant companion that shares every minute of my life.  My body is no longer just mine.  My dreams are no longer just mine.  My life is no longer just mine.  Everything I have or do is ours.  We share everything.

You are always with me as a constant reminder that I must do, feel and believe good.  If I fail me, I fail you.  

As time has progressed and months have passed, you have grown from something that I could not physically feel, but spiritually experienced

Since you have been conceived, my every breath is also your every breath.  My bites of apples and oranges are shared with you.  If I do not eat, you do not eat.  I practice my best behavior to insure your good health.  

My body is employed full-time to build you non-stop.  Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.  No wonder I have such little energy.  

                           

From within the inside of your sacred temple that nourishes and protects you, you are now about ready to make your entrance into the universe.  The finishing touches are now being added to your total physical being.  You will enter this world as the Buddha that you are. 

I anticipate your arrival, but with hesitation. Once you enter this side, the outside, I will miss your constant companionship.  I will miss the feeling of growth within me.  I will miss your influence on my dreams, both night nights and daydreams.  

You and I have a relationship I have never experienced.  We are friends and lovers, mother and child.   So far we work good as a team.  

When we meet on the outside, I will have given you your first step into freedom.  I guess the first stage of cutting the apron strings occurs when the umbilical cord, that has connected us for months, is cut.  

Although we will still be companions and have a partnership in our relationship, we will no longer be physically connected.  You will have your life and I will have mine.  We will have a spiritual bond that will connect us.  You, my Buddha Baby, and I will live our lives separate, but together.  

Buddha Baby, I love you.  I will miss this present bond.  In a few weeks I will be a mother with child in arms.  We will be separate unto each other.  May your separate life from me be one of living with respect, justice, health, wisdom, kindness and compassion experienced by you and shared with others.  

I do await your entrance, as I await a great artist as the curtain opens.  Anxious, full of butterflies.  This will be your occasion, not one full of pain and fear, rather one of anticipation and celebration.  

Your arrival will awaken from my physical soul of your departure.  It will remind me that my body will no longer house your body.  Your exit from me into this universe will be celebrated with mixed feelings of pain and pleasure; of coming and going; of being and becoming.  

When you decide you are ready to exit your temple, you will let me know.  Labor will begin.  A term I believe to be falsely given.  Not that giving birth is not hard work and does not put demands on the body that work and physical exertion entails.  

Sure, I will sweat.  My heart rate will increase; I will feel like I am running a marathon.  I am.  My race with your life is beginning.  The pain that will be present is to remind me that my constant companion is leaving my body and starting the race.  It is hard to imagine the entrance of a newborn into the world without the mother being aware of a feeling of departure.  

That is why, my Buddha Baby, the pain you will subject me to, will be no more than stubbing my toe.   It will hurt for a while and then be forgotten.  

When I feel your birth I will know you are leaving me and you will be on your own, using your own body and systems that Mother Nature helped me to build.  When the umbilical cord that has united us for nine months is cut we will no longer be one, but two, so shall we be.  You will be on your own.  So will I.  We will be two.  We will be separate but we will be there to guide each other.  

You will no longer be dependent solely on me.  Other individuals can fulfill the functions that I am now prepared to do.  I will not have the singular influence on you.  The first cutting of the apron strings will have occurred, and our aloneness will begin.  

I meet this thought with mixed feelings.  I have adored sharing my body with you.  I have loved having your spirit and soul influencing my dreams, my goals, my life and my soul.  

I will miss my Buddha belly. 

I am anxious to hold you. To feel the movements that were once within me, will now be felt against the external of my body.  I will soon feed you through my breasts rather than our placenta.  I am eager to see the influence of the genetic connection shared by me and the father of your spirit.  

As my legs open to birth you, so do I open my arms to greet you, to hold you and to caress you.  My hands open to tend your needs and my heart opens to love you even more than I do now.

In Gassho, my dear Buddha Baby.

Namu Amida Butso

BSB

"Ushiro ni suwatta monto" 

Bursting my Buddhist Bubble

Namu Amida Butso

As a western who has studied Buddhism for a period of time I entered into the practices, thoughts, ideologies with rose-colored glasses. For me, there was always a romantic notion of what Buddhism was/is.  I love to think so when posed with different Zen Korans – it was a joy to think with the spiritual part of my brain.

But since I have been taking classes at two Jodo Shinshu Temples and attending a variety of Buddhist conferences my spiritual thinking is challenged by my rational thinking. Learning the history and how Buddhism has traveled from country to country from language to language to practices and practices and leader-to-leader my knowing Buddhism is very young.  Learning about the historic Buddha in addition to other Buddhas I am beginning to understand the rational history of Buddhism, which is not always complimentary to my romantic notions of Buddhism.

As I try to put together the puzzle pieces of Buddhism I have a hard time curtailing my thinking and curtailing trying to make sense out of word and practice I once thought I understood.  When I see my sensei I frequently say, ”I have a question.”  I know not to say a quick question for most questions are neither quick nor simple.  What I have learned by asking my questions is that there are simple answers.

I know there have been moments when my sensei sees me and is thinking  “Oh no, she is going to ask me another question.”  I try really hard not to ask  - but it is hard for me to refrain, for I am always bursting with questions

In class one night when my sensei was sharing a historical aspect of Buddhism I was a little disillusioned.  During class that night I said, “You are busting my Buddhist bubble.”  A couple of weeks later I was disillusioned a second time in class regarding another Buddhist notion I held and said, “There you go again, and you are busting my Buddhist bubble.” 

Recently at a Buddhist conference, after a day of attending sessions that challenged my rational thinking, my sensei and two other Buddhist leaders and I were walking to dinner.  As usual my brain was working overtime and I kept asking questions.  Sometimes I feel like the three year old child who keeps asking,” Why?”  “Why?”  “Why?”  Back then, my three-year-old “whys?”  were frequently answered by my mother who would say, “Because I said so.”

The Buddhist senseis I was walking with did not say that but their replies were so basic, simple and to the point that again my romantic notions of Buddhism came into another collision to the reality cheek to the practicality of Buddhism.

I remember saying to one of them – “You know, I think Zen Buddhism is so much easier to understand than Jodo Shinshu.”  Maybe I just make things far more complicated than they are.

I still have lots of questions – I always will – I am just that kind of person.  Now when I have an “aha” moment in class or in life or in a service it is less of a romantic nation and more of a Buddhist reality check,

In Gassho

BSB

"Ushiro ni suwatta monto" 

Introducing a Backseat on the Aisle Buddhist

Namo-Amida-Butsu

I am Backseat Buddhist (on the aisle); a name that was inadvertently recently given to me.

I was attending a Buddhist conference and for the closing service I was sitting in the backseat on the aisle, as I always do. Someone said in a joking way “Why don’t you want to sit (in the front) where the expensive seats are?”   I replied that I needed to sit in the backseat because I have significant allergies to fragrances and especially to incense.  Then someone else nearby said, “Ah, so you are a Backseat Buddhist.”

I replied, “ In many ways” and thought to myself that the name really fit me. For some reason in my daily living I think in terms of titles. It is not unusual for someone to say something and I think, “Wow that is a good title for a book or blog site or a song, etc.”  This time I thought that “Backseat Buddhist” was a great name for a blog and the story of me being and becoming a Buddhist.  Not just because I sit in the backseat on the aisle but for other symbolic reasons as well.

The path for me being a Backseat Buddhist started when I was in college in the mid 1960s and read Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse. I then read Paul Reps’ book Zen flesh – Zen Bones which became one of my all time favorite books and a book I have given often as a gift.  My reading continued with Allan Watts The Way of Zen and various books on Zen by D. T. Suzuki. I read Zen and Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert Pirsig, at least twice, followed by listening to the book on tape two or three times. (When my son has in middle school he listened to it with me on a couple of long road trips together.) This book also was been a long time favorite of mine.  

I have read many books by the Dali Lama and have heard him speak more than once.  To be honest, I have had along time spiritual crush on him. I have been sharing Tibetan prayer flag blessings with my neighbors for years and give them to friends as gifts.  So, I have kind of been a scholar of Zen and Tibetan Buddhism over the years and I have privately practiced Buddhism in my daily life - but I have never been part of a Sangha.

I have gone to a variety of Buddhist services, meditations and/or retreats over the years but I would need to leave shortly after arriving because of my allergies to and relationship with incense. 

I have studied and explored various aspects of Japanese culture for a few years taking Japanese language classes and studying Taiko drumming.  I have attended a Japanese cultural festival for a few years at a local Japanese Jodoshinshu Buddhist temple. 

Two years ago I decide to “(wo)man up” to “cowgirl up” to “rise and shine” and to smell the incense.  It was time to put my commitment to Buddhism and my appreciation of Japanese culture into one experience. I decided to attend a Jodoshinshu Buddhist temple.  My son and a good friend of mine took our first journey to our first Shin Buddhist service at the temple where we had previously attended the Japanese festival.

As we were preparing to leave my son suggested for me to take some ice cubes and savor on them to fight my reaction to the incense.  So, I packed some ice and hid it in a nice handkerchief. We sat in the second row in the back in case I needed to leave.  I kept the ice in my mouth and the handkerchief over my mouth and nose as discretely as I could while I savored the ice.  This strategy worked. I made it through the service.  I used this ice sucking practice for a few weeks and worked my way from sucking on ice to sucking on mints or lifesavers while still sitting in the backseat.   My son still joins me for Sunday services when he can, also sitting in the backseat aisle row (maybe he is also a Backseat Buddhist) and I still use mints.

I know I am not unique with this incense situation. I have talked to many others who have mentioned their reactions to incense. I know that some Buddhist temples that have alternative ways to celebrate o-shoko – for those with incense allergies.  I appreciate this approach for I value the practice of offering incense in a Buddhist’s life and incense allergies are a challenge for me.

I consider myself to be a good, faithful member of our Sangha and I have only missed one Sunday service since we first started attending two years ago. I volunteer at many different temple activities; I have completed the lay leader classes and I am now a lay leader; I constantly read books and articles on Buddhism and I constantly study and take classes on Buddhism. When I cannot attend a service at this temple I will attend another Jodoshinshu Buddhist temple in the community.

Being a member of a Sangha has really helped me to put my 45 years of academic studies of Buddhism into a meaningful practice.  I think being part of a Sangha helps to make me the Buddhist I have privately been because as I shared in the Three Treasures: I take refuge in the Buddha, I take refuge in the Dharma and now I take refuge in the Sangha.

Being part of a Sanga, I believe, is important for a Buddhist.  I am very happy that I faced my incense allergies so I could really be the Buddhist I was born to be and have wanted to be.

I actually like being a Backseat on the Aisle Buddhist.  Maybe with time I will move up a row every few years, but right now I am a Backseat Buddhist and I invite you to join my thoughts, my stories and me.

In Gassho

"Ushiro ni suwatta monto"