“I remember a Japanese Buddhist story from which I have learned a lesson. There was a well-known teacher who had a three-month retreat attended by exactly five hundred students. Among them was a kleptomaniac. The students who participated in the retreat kept losing their belongings and finally complained to the teacher about the suspected culprit. The teacher, however, took no action. Eventually the students decided to sign a petition and submitted it to the teacher. It stated that if the teacher didn’t take any action, they would all leave the retreat. The teacher noticed that there were 499 signatures. He called upon everyone and said, ‘I received the petition signed by all of you except one. All 499 of you are virtuous people with principles. You can exist anywhere in the world without causing any trouble to others, or getting into trouble yourselves. I am confident that you will all be assets to society; therefore, if you leave, you have my blessings. I do not have to worry about you. However, the one person who has not signed this petition needs my help. He must stay with me. If he leaves, he will be a hindrance to society and eventually end up a criminal.’2
“Like this teacher, whose compassion was distributed equally toward the uplifting of all human beings, we must also learn to extend our compassion to the needy, and not only to the one or ones we love most.”
Gita spoke up and said, “I just wish your mother could exercise a little compassion toward me.”
Ravi said nothing.
I continued. “Ravi, the third sympathetic state is mudita, which means sympathetic joy or appreciative joy. It is the wholesome attitude of rejoicing in the happiness of all human beings. It makes people less self-centered, and it eliminates jealousy. Appreciative joy is like a mother’s joy at her son’s success and happiness.”
“That’s all my mother was trying to express, Gita. She wanted to show her joy!” Gita just looked at her husband in dismay, seeing that he was missing the point.
“The fourth sublime state is the wholesome attitude of upekkha, or equanimity, which counters clinging and aversion. When a son gets married and begins to lead an independent life, his mother still has the feeling of loving kindness, compassion, and appreciative joy for him, but with no interfering or attachment. These qualities are combined with a feeling of equanimity, or equal feeling for all. Equanimity is the condition that promotes impartiality toward everyone, complete detachment. When it is practiced, both aversion and attachment are eradicated.”3
Gita interrupts, “That’s exactly what I mean. His mother appreciates only what he does, not what I do, or what our children do.”
I replied, “Gita, you should understand that your mother-in-law is not an enlightened being. She is just an ordinary person who has made a lot of sacrifices in her life to bring up her children. Unfortunately, she does not understand the difference between metta, loving kindness, and pema, personal affection. Her personal affection has shrouded her loving kindness; therefore she appreciates only her son. That is human nature. Humans are irrational animals, and the animal nature will arise in an undeveloped mind. Even a cow will protect its calf from harm. In order to protect the newborn, she will be defensive even when her master comes to feed her. Gita, think about yourself. You love your children more than your relatives.”
“I understand you, Bhante,” said Gita. “Ravi takes me to all his friends’ birthday celebrations; we take gifts as well. But for my birthday, he doesn’t even give me good wishes, much less a gift.”
“I have heard this complaint on innumerable occasions,” I replied. “Unfortunately, some Buddhists are concerned only about the monks’ code of discipline; they are unaware that the Buddha expounded a code of rules for both men and women. Ravi, I am surprised that you completely ignore Gita’s birthdays. The Buddha himself has advised a husband to remember such occasions.”
“Bhante, in which book has he said so?” asked Ravi.
“It is in the Digha Nikaya Sigalovada Sutta, and I’ll tell you the story. One day, the Buddha saw a young man named Sigala bowing to the six directions. When the Buddha questioned Sigala about his practice, Sigala replied that his father requested him to do so on his deathbed.4
“Sigala said, ‘Why, Lord Buddha, does my father want me to do this practice?’ The Buddha answered by saying that there are six types of human relationships, characterized by the six directions.
“First of all, he said that the east represents the parents. He chose the east for the parents because the sun comes up early and rises in the east, bringing light and life to all.
“The west represents the spouse because the sun sets in the west, and until life ends, husband and wife live together in harmony.
“The north represents friends and friendship, because magnetic north is the attractive force that draws friends together.
“The south represents the teachers because the sun’s light is the brightest when it comes from the south; therefore, the wisdom is the strongest.
“Then there is the above, or the sky, which represents religious teachings, which can be characterized as being endless and as being the bearers of peace and wisdom, and the foundation for the path to enlightenment.
“Finally there is the below, or the earth, which represents the foundation of all worldly things. Here the Buddha speaks about honoring employees and the other support people who hold it all up; without earth, no one would be able to stand.
“Therefore, honoring the six directions means fulfilling one’s reciprocal responsibilities.
“Marriage is a partnership. Living in the same house with someone for many years is not easy; it requires skill, patience, and compassion. A husband and wife form the nucleus of the family. Their harmonious and successful marriage brings stability to the family. It will also have a happy effect on the children.”5
After a brief pause I continued, “The Buddha taught us that an ideal marriage can be achieved if a husband shows love and respect for his wife by being courteous to her, appreciating her, being faithful to her, sharing authority with her in family matters, and giving her presents on special occasions. In return, the wife should reciprocate with love and respect for her husband and support him by managing the household well, being hospitable to his friends and relatives, being faithful to him, taking care of the wealth of the family, and being industrious in her work.”6
Gita and Ravi both had tears in their eyes. “Bhante,” they both said at the same time, and smiled.
Ravi nudged Gita softly to speak first. “I never heard of such a beautiful way a couple should be together.”
Ravi immediately added, “Amazing, simply amazing. I am beginning to see for the first time how I might build a happy life with Gita!”
Gita spoke up and said, “But what is going to happen about the situation with your mother? I truly can’t go on this way.”
Ravi had a look on his face that told me he didn’t have an answer. I said, “I truly think that your mother is unhappy here in America. She is far away from her other children in Calcutta, and she is, perhaps, too old to adapt to a new culture. Now that you are settled down here in California with a successful practice, perhaps you could suggest to your mother that she might be happier with your sister Depa in India. You could visit her every year, and send Depa money to help support her.”
Ravi looked sad about the possibility of being so far away from his mother, but he also realized that what I had suggested was the only hope for his marriage. “I will do as you say, Bhante.” In fact, it worked out just this way.
One by one, little by little, moment by moment,
A wise person should remove his or her impurities
As a silversmith removes the impurities from silver.7
Focus, not on the rudeness of others,
not on what they’ve done or left undone,
but on what you
have and haven’t done yourself.8
FIFTEEN
Children Change Us
For many years I have worked with the Cambodian community as a religious adviser and ment
or. Cambodian people have an extended family system that is very supportive of each individual within the family unit. Unfortunately, when they migrate to the United States, which has a nuclear family system, they find it very difficult to adjust to the way families interact here.
Kalya and her family often visit my temple. Several years ago there was a period during which she complained about her eldest daughter, Vanni, every time she saw me. Vanni was an eighteen-year-old who had overstepped the boundaries established by her family, eager to adopt the freedom enjoyed by her American peers. She had become a night owl, was irresponsible about keeping her commitments, refused to do her share of the household chores, and didn’t want her parents to meet her boyfriend. In fact, she had become a problem to her family.
Kalya was worried because Vanni was setting a bad example for her younger sisters. Kalya had been a teacher in Cambodia, where teachers have the authority to correct and punish the children, and she was a strict disciplinarian. She wanted her children to be brought up in the tradition of sharing the responsibilities of a united family.
And like any other mother, Kalya also wanted her children to be educated and to enjoy the benefits of their new country. Kalya’s husband, Vipa, was very passive; he ceded all authority to his wife and agreed to abide by her decisions.
One day I received a call from Kalya saying that Vanni had moved out of the house and was living with her girlfriend in a rented apartment. The family could not accept their daughter moving out of the family home until she was married. They were devastated and felt disgraced in the eyes of their Cambodian culture. Kalya wanted me to advise Vanni and persuade her to move back home.
I set up an appointment for the family to visit me, and I personally called Vanni to make sure she would also be there. When we met in the Shrine Room of my temple, I could feel the hostile energy between the family and their estranged daughter. Kalya and Vanni wouldn’t even look one another in the eye. Each was convinced she was right, and they made no attempt to conceal their anger.
I turned to Vanni and asked her to tell her side of the story first. I listened with an open mind.
“My mother abuses me!” was the first statement that came out of her mouth.
“What do you mean by abuse, Vanni?” I asked her, never believing that Kalya would physically harm any of her children.
“She has a list of chores for me to do every day. She wants me to clean the bathrooms, clean the kitchen floor, launder my sisters’ clothes, and vacuum the entire house once a week,” she replied, looking as victimized as she could.
“Is that all?” I exclaimed. “Vanni, that’s not abuse.”
The young girl ignored my comment and continued. “When I return home late, she shouts at me. She always wants to know where I went, who I went with, and what I did. She pokes her nose into my personal business, and she’s a pain.”
“Vanni,” I began patiently. “I can cite a story from Buddhist literature that might help us understand this situation better. One day, Prince Abhayaraja questioned the Buddha about some remarks he had made that had hurt the feelings of his brother-in-law Devadatta. Devadatta was at this time also a disciple of the Buddha.
“The Buddha replied, ‘Prince, I speak the truth as it is, but I never say harsh things to anyone. If the infant you are holding in your arms were to put a pebble in his mouth, what would you do?’
“The Prince answered, ‘I would take out the pebble, of course.’
“The Buddha responded, ‘What if it were not so easy to take it out?’
“‘Then I would hold the child still and put my finger in his mouth and find the pebble and pull it out,’ replied the Prince.
“Then the Buddha asked, ‘When you do that, won’t it hurt the child?’
“‘Yes, Sir, it will hurt the child, but it is necessary to save his life.’
“‘In the same way, when I speak the truth as it really is, some people may feel hurt, and some may even get angry. However, I do not say these things to hurt them, but because of the limitless compassion I feel for them.’1
“Do you understand what the Buddha meant by this statement, Vanni?”
Vanni just looked at me and shrugged her shoulders, not seeming to care about what I had said. I said, “Your parents cannot sleep when you are out late at night. When they watch the TV news I am sure they get worried about you. Often the news is of murder, rape, rave parties, drug binges, drunk driving, and so forth—any or all of which, in their imagination, could happen to you.
“Vanni, you come from a good Buddhist family. You should be aware that the Buddha strongly advised his followers to avoid unnecessary outings in the night. In the Sigalovada Sutta he said,
Young householder, there are these six evil consequences of a person sauntering in streets at unseemly hours: he himself becomes unprotected and unguarded; his wife and children become unprotected and unguarded; his property becomes unprotected and unguarded; he becomes suspected of committing crimes and evil deeds; he becomes subjected to false accusations; he will have to face many troubles. Young householder, these are the six evil consequences of sauntering in streets at unseemly hours.2”
I looked at Vanni and I could tell that she still wasn’t getting my message. I continued by saying, “Do you know what difficulties a mother goes through to bring up a child? It is from conception that she takes care of her unborn. All her energies are directed toward the child, even before its birth. To see to the comforts of the child, the parents spend restless nights, at times for months on end. They undergo immense pain, which is borne silently, to nurse and bring up their children.
“Children are indeed a source of delight and happiness to their parents, but raising them is by no means an easy task. I had an experience that helped me realize how difficult a parent’s job is. I’d like to share this true story with you.
“Over two decades ago, a young Sri Lankan couple came to visit me in my humble first temple, which was located in Hollywood. At that time, there was only me and my friend Bhante Ananda. This couple were students at the time, they didn’t know many people, and they had little money. They had no one else to call upon, so they asked us to take care of their six-month-old baby for a couple of hours while they attended to some urgent business. I was delighted to be the baby-sitter, as I had never had the opportunity to do this before. My friend Bhante Ananda wasn’t too happy about taking on this responsibility, but he reluctantly gave in.
“Just a few minutes after the couple left, the baby started to cry. I tried my best to quiet him by carrying him while pacing up and down the hallway. I talked, I sang, I even chanted. I did everything I could think of to make him stop crying, but nothing worked.
“My friend thought the baby might be hungry and suggested we try giving him some milk. Then we wondered whether to heat the milk or give it to him cold. Finally, we decided to boil the milk.
“By this time we were getting frantic, since the baby was screaming at the top of his lungs. In my excitement, I dropped the bottle and it broke. My friend started to laugh. Somehow we had to feed the baby. All of a sudden an idea dawned on me. I remembered how as little children we used to feed baby squirrels in Sri Lanka. We made cotton wicks, dipped them in the milk, and let the squirrels suck them.
“So we applied the same technique and calmed the child. This incident enlightened me as to how difficult it is to bring up a child.
“Your mother had to take care of four children, Vanni. I sympathize with her, knowing what a hard time she had. I want you to read these two letters sent by an American devotee to her parents. She specifically mentioned that I have her permission to use these letters whenever an appropriate occasion arises.” I handed her the two letters, which I will reproduce here.
Dearest Dad,
You have been the light of strength for me. In your struggle to provide a home for all of us, you suffered separation. You worked long hours, traveled far from your home, and then returned, sometimes without recognition from your children
. You never expected it or did it for recognition. You did it because of your love. You did not receive the credit and warmth deserved at times from me. You withdrew and had a hard time showing how much you loved us all and loved me. I know you loved me. I know you love me now, with all your heart. Your love and life brought me to LIFE. It enfolded me, and through your example, I was able to connect—as I have—to the beauty of the Sacred. What an amazing gift. You are beautiful beyond words. All along the way, you have supported me and loved me even when it was not easy to do so. Sometimes, everyone else shared his or her love with Mom, and you were left without a hug, whether physical or emotional. I know that must have been difficult, because you have done everything in your life to help and support us. You were the one that supported me, not only through trusts of money, but in the unconditional trust of love. That was you who did that.
Eventually, you withdrew because you didn’t want me or others to know how alone you felt. I still loved you even in hard times, but didn’t always show it to you. I want to say to you now that I know who you are and recognize the beauty and strength and wisdom that you are. I have wept to think that you would not know this. I have cried out in prayer that you could feel and experience the joy of my life because of what you did for me to be here, whether conscious or unconscious, that’s what you did, and what your father did, and his father.
I am in full amazement of the strength and beauty of your love and commitment to my happiness and me. I am weeping with joy right now at the thought. I thank you with all my heart and soul, for all the love you are, completely and without condition.
Thank you, dearest Dad, for your love, strength, light, lessons, patience, support, laughter, throwing me up in the air as a girl to allow me to reach for the sky and to find my way home. For all the times you lent a guiding hand, the times you picked me up when I fell, the pony rides on your lap, the debates between us to sharpen my mind, the loving support of who you truly are. I want you to know, I am home, surrounded by love, warmed by the fires of life, secure in the knowing of the Sacred Presence, and now I will never be alone again. This is because of your love. I will never leave you, for you are in my heart forever. I know you never left me, you were always there as a loving guide. Thank you, dearest Dad. Thank you with all my heart!
Saffron Days in L.A. Page 12