Bob Schwartz

Tag: Buddhism

Nine Prayers by Thich Nath Hanh

Thomas Merton’s final book, Contemplative Prayer, was published in 1969, a year after his accidental death. In 1995, Vietnamese Zen master Thich Nhat Hanh added an introduction. He wrote about his admiration for Merton and about distinctions between Christian and Buddhist prayer:

“I first met Thomas Merton in 1966. It is hard to describe his face in words, to write down exactly what he was like. He was filled with human warmth. Conversation with him was so easy. When we talked, I told him a few things, and he immediately understood the things I didn’t tell him as well. He was open to everything, constantly asking questions and listening deeply. I told him about my life as a Buddhist novice in Vietnam, and he wanted to know more and more.

Our approach to prayer in Buddhism is a little different from that of Christianity. We practice silent meditation, and we try to practice mindfulness in everything we do, to awaken to what is going on inside us and all around us in each moment. The Buddha taught: “If you are standing on one shore and want to cross over to the other shore, you have to use a boat or swim across. You cannot just pray, ‘Oh, other shore, please come over here for me to step across!’” To a Buddhist, praying without also practicing is not real prayer.”

At the end of his Introduction, Thich Nhat Hanh offers a set of nine prayers—prayers beyond any sectarian tradition.


Nine Prayers
Thich Nhat Hanh
From Contemplative Prayer by Thomas Merton

1.
May I be peaceful, happy, and light in body and spirit.
May he/she be peaceful, happy, and light in body and spirit.
May they be peaceful, happy, and light in body and spirit.

2.
May I be free from injury. May I live in safety.
May he/she be free from injury. May he/she live in safety.
May they be free from injury. May they live in safety.

3.
May I be free from disturbance, fear, anxiety, and worry.
May he/she be free from disturbance, fear, anxiety, and worry.
May they be free from disturbance, fear, anxiety, and worry.

4.
May I learn to look at myself with the eyes of understanding and love.
May he/she learn to look at him/herself with the eyes of understanding and love.
May they learn to look at themselves with the eyes of understanding and love.

5.
May I be able to recognize and touch the seeds of joy and happiness in myself.
May he/she be able to recognize and touch the seeds of joy and happiness in him/herself.
May they be able to recognize and touch the seeds of joy and happiness in themselves.

6.
May I learn to identify and see the sources of anger, craving, and delusion in myself.
May he/she learn to identify and see the sources of anger, craving, and delusion in him/herself.
May they learn to identify and see the sources of anger, craving, and delusion in themselves.

7.
May I know how to nourish the seeds of joy in myself every day.
May he/she know how to nourish the seeds of joy in him/herself every day.
May they know how to nourish the seeds of joy in themselves every day.

8.
May I be able to live fresh, solid, and free.
May he/she be able to live fresh, solid, and free.
May they be able to live fresh, solid, and free.

9.
May I be free from attachment and aversion, but not be indifferent.
May he/she be free from attachment and aversion, but not be indifferent.
May they be free from attachment and aversion, but not be indifferent.

He/she: First the person we like, then the person we love, then the person who is neutral to us, and finally the person we suffer when we think of.

They: The group, the people, the nation, or the species we like, then the one we love, then the one that is neutral to us, and finally the one we suffer when we think of.

Poems by Cold Mountain/Han Shan (c. 9th century CE)


Han Shan (寒山, meaning “Cold Mountain”) was a legendary Tang Dynasty Chinese poet who lived sometime between the 7th-9th centuries CE. He’s one of the most beloved figures in Chinese Buddhist literature.

His historical existence is debated. He may have been a recluse living on Cold Mountain (Hanyan) near Tiantai in Zhejiang province, or a literary persona created by one or more Chan (Zen) Buddhist poets.

About 300 poems survive, written in colloquial language rather than formal literary Chinese. They blend Chan Buddhism, Daoism, and nature imagery with humor, social criticism, and spiritual insight.

Themes include mountain solitude, the foolishness of worldly pursuits, enlightenment, and the beauty of simple living. His work often ridicules conventional society and religious formalism. He embodies the archetype of the wandering, enlightened madman.

He is traditionally paired with his sidekick Shide (拾得, “Foundling”), another hermit-poet. They are depicted as eccentric, laughing sages.

He remains hugely popular in East Asia. He was brought to Western audiences by Gary Snyder’s translations.


Please read some poems by Cold Mountain. Following are three translations, all worthy, with those of Red Pine (Bill Porter) especially recommended.

The Collected Songs of Cold Mountain by Red Pine

Cold Mountain Poems: Zen Poems of Han Shan, Shih Te, and Wang Fan-chih by J. P. Seaton

The Complete Cold Mountain: Poems of the Legendary Hermit Hanshan by Kazuaki Tanahashi and Peter Levitt


The new year ends a year of sorrow
spring finds everything fresh
mountain flowers laugh with green water
cliff trees dance with blue mist
bees and butterflies seem so happy
birds and fishes look lovelier still
the joy of companionship never ends
who can sleep past dawn

Cold Mountain (Hanshan), c. 9th century
Translated by Red Pine (Bill Porter)

Buddhist Anarchism

“No one today can afford to be innocent, or indulge himself in ignorance of the nature of contemporary governments, politics and social orders. The national polities of the modern world maintain their existence by deliberately fostered craving and fear: monstrous protection rackets.”

Celebrated poet Gary Snyder has been a master swimmer in the cultural and spiritual currents of our times. His biography from the Poetry Foundation notes:


Gary Snyder began his career in the 1950s as a noted member of the “Beat Generation,” though he has since explored a wide range of social and spiritual matters in both poetry and prose. Snyder’s work blends physical reality and precise observations of nature with inner insight received primarily through the practice of Zen Buddhism. While Snyder has gained attention as a spokesman for the preservation of the natural world and its earth-conscious cultures, he is not simply a “back-to-nature” poet with a facile message….

Snyder’s emphasis on metaphysics and his celebration of the natural order remove his work from the general tenor of Beat writing—and in fact Snyder is also identified as a poet of the San Francisco Renaissance along with Jack Spicer, Robert Duncan and Robin Blaser. Snyder has looked to the Orient and to the beliefs of American Indians for positive responses to the world, and he has tempered his studies with stints of hard physical labor as a logger and trail builder. Altieri believed that Snyder’s “articulation of a possible religious faith” independent of Western culture has greatly enhanced his popularity. In his study of the poet, Bob Steuding described how Snyder’s accessible style, drawn from the examples of Japanese haiku and Chinese verse, “has created a new kind of poetry that is direct, concrete, non-Romantic, and ecological. . . . Snyder’s work will be remembered in its own right as the example of a new direction taken in American literature.” Nation contributor Richard Tillinghast wrote: “In Snyder the stuff of the world ‘content’—has always shone with a wonderful sense of earthiness and health. He has always had things to tell us, experiences to relate, a set of values to expound. . . . He has influenced a generation.”


In 1961, Snyder published an essay entitled Buddhist Anarchism. Anarchism is a slippery term, though a call to turn things upside down, or an observation of our heading there, probably qualifies. The Buddhist part is definite here. Yes, it is radical, and pragmatic history may seem to demonstrate that the vision is idealistic, impractical and impossible. Even quaint in the face of the 21st century real world and real life. But without the idealistic, impractical and impossible, where is the fun and the future?


BUDDHIST ANARCHISM

Buddhism holds that the universe and all creatures in it are intrinsically in a state of complete wisdom, love and compassion; acting in natural response and mutual interdependence. The personal realization of this from-the-beginning state cannot be had for and by one-“self” — because it is not fully realized unless one has given the self up; and away.

In the Buddhist view, that which obstructs the effortless manifestation of this is Ignorance, which projects into fear and needless craving. Historically, Buddhist philosophers have failed to analyze out the degree to which ignorance and suffering are caused or encouraged by social factors, considering fear-and-desire to be given facts of the human condition. Consequently the major concern of Buddhist philosophy is epistemology and “psychology” with no attention paid to historical or sociological problems. Although Mahayana Buddhism has a grand vision of universal salvation, the actual achievement of Buddhism has been the development of practical systems of meditation toward the end of liberating a few dedicated individuals from psychological hangups and cultural conditionings. Institutional Buddhism has been conspicuously ready to accept or ignore the inequalities and tyrannies of whatever political system it found itself under. This can be death to Buddhism, because it is death to any meaningful function of compassion. Wisdom without compassion feels no pain.

No one today can afford to be innocent, or indulge himself in ignorance of the nature of contemporary governments, politics and social orders. The national polities of the modern world maintain their existence by deliberately fostered craving and fear: monstrous protection rackets. The “free world” has become economically dependent on a fantastic system of stimulation of greed which cannot be fulfilled, sexual desire which cannot be satiated and hatred which has no outlet except against oneself, the persons one is supposed to love, or the revolutionary aspirations of pitiful, poverty-stricken marginal societies like Cuba or Vietnam. The conditions of the Cold War have turned all modern societies — Communist included — into vicious distorters of man’s true potential. They create populations of “preta” — hungry ghosts, with giant appetites and throats no bigger than needles. The soil, the forests and all animal life are being consumed by these cancerous collectivities; the air and water of the planet is being fouled by them.

There is nothing in human nature or the requirements of human social organization which intrinsically requires that a culture be contradictory, repressive and productive of violent and frustrated personalities. Recent findings in anthropology and psychology make this more and more evident. One can prove it for himself by taking a good look at his own nature through meditation. Once a person has this much faith and insight, he must be led to a deep concern with the need for radical social change through a variety of hopefully non-violent means.

The joyous and voluntary poverty of Buddhism becomes a positive force. The traditional harmlessness and refusal to take life in any form has nation-shaking implications. The practice of meditation, for which one needs only “the ground beneath one’s feet,” wipes out mountains of junk being pumped into the mind by the mass media and supermarket universities. The belief in a serene and generous fulfillment of natural loving desires destroys ideologies which blind, maim and repress — and points the way to a kind of community which would amaze “moralists” and transform armies of men who are fighters because they cannot be lovers.

Avatamsaka (Kegon) Buddhist philosophy sees the world as a vast interrelated network in which all objects and creatures are necessary and illuminated. From one standpoint, governments, wars, or all that we consider “evil” are uncompromisingly contained in this totalistic realm. The hawk, the swoop and the hare are one. From the “human” standpoint we cannot live in those terms unless all beings see with the same enlightened eye. The Bodhisattva lives by the sufferer’s standard, and he must be effective in aiding those who suffer.

The mercy of the West has been social revolution; the mercy of the East has been individual insight into the basic self/void. We need both. They are both contained in the traditional three aspects of the Dharma path: wisdom (prajna), meditation (dhyana), and morality (sila). Wisdom is intuitive knowledge of the mind of love and clarity that lies beneath one’s ego-driven anxieties and aggressions. Meditation is going into the mind to see this for yourself — over and over again, until it becomes the mind you live in. Morality is bringing it back out in the way you live, through personal example and responsible action, ultimately toward the true community (sangha) of “all beings.”

This last aspect means, for me, supporting any cultural and economic revolution that moves clearly toward a free, international, classless world. It means using such means as civil disobedience, outspoken criticism, protest, pacifism, voluntary poverty and even gentle violence if it comes to a matter of restraining some impetuous redneck. It means affirming the widest possible spectrum of non-harmful individual behavior — defending the right of individuals to smoke hemp, eat peyote, be polygynous, polyandrous or homosexual. Worlds of behavior and custom long banned by the Judaeo-Capitalist-Christian-Marxist West. It means respecting intelligence and learning, but not as greed or means to personal power. Working on one’s own responsibility, but willing to work with a group. “Forming the new society within the shell of the old” — the IWW slogan of fifty years ago.

The traditional cultures are in any case doomed, and rather than cling to their good aspects hopelessly it should be remembered that whatever is or ever was in any other culture can be reconstructed from the unconscious, through meditation. In fact, it is my own view that the coming revolution will close the circle and link us in many ways with the most creative aspects of our archaic past. If we are lucky we may eventually arrive at a totally integrated world culture with matrilineal descent, free-form marriage, natural-credit communist economy, less industry, far less population and lots more national parks.

GARY SNYDER
1961


Believing and acting “as if”

Our religious traditions often ask us to act on faith, believing that which can’t be absolutely demonstrated or proven to our satisfaction. For theistic religions, God is at the top of that list, with many other beliefs following.

In Buddhism there is a belief in rebirth:


rebirth. The belief that one is reborn after death. Belief in rebirth is a corollary of the doctrine of karma, which holds that a person experiences the good or bad fruits of moral action at a later date. Rebirth is one of the ‘givens’ of Buddhist thought and since its truth is universally assumed it is rarely asserted or defended as a dogma. Some contemporary Buddhists have suggested that belief in rebirth is not an essential part of Buddhist teachings, but the notion is deeply ingrained in the tradition and the ancient texts.


Roger Jackson in his masterful study Rebirth: A Guide to Mind, Karma, and Cosmos in the Buddhist World (2022) points to modern Buddhist masters and followers who suggest that rebirth is theory, not fact. Nevertheless, it remains a core belief.

In closing, Jackson points to a familiar Western resolution. The argument of 17th-century mathematician Blaise Pascal—sometimes called Pascal’s wager—is that by believing in God you risk nothing significant but could gain everything.

This leads Jackson to this:


I myself would argue without ambivalence for what I call “As-If Agnosticism.” My stance is agnostic because, like Hayes and Batchelor (and many others), I do not find traditional descriptions of karma and rebirth literally credible, nor am I fully persuaded by arguments in their favor, whether rational, empirical, or faith-based; on the other hand, I cannot rule out the possibility that such descriptions (or something akin to them) may in fact be true. The universe, after all, is surpassingly strange. In the spirit of Wallace Stevens’s famous statement that “we believe without belief, beyond belief,” I propose that we live as if such descriptions were true. I am not suggesting we simply take up wishful thinking: if only there were past and future lives, if only karma works the ways tradition says it does, if only glorious and perfect buddhahood awaited us all at the end of the rainbow. Maybe they do, maybe they don’t. But as Buddhists have argued for millennia, Western humanists have claimed for centuries, and scientists have recently begun to recognize, the world is actually built far more on our ideas, aspirations, and speculations—the As-If—than we suppose, and the solid foundations we presume to lie beneath us—the “As-Is”—are much more difficult to find than we assume. It’s not, therefore, that by living as if certain doctrines were true we really are in flight from some bedrock, objective reality, because that reality—though it certainly imposes limitations on us, most notably at the time of death—turns out to be far more a matter of convention and far less “just the way things are” than we had thought. Freed from the illusion of perfect objectivity, therefore, why not think and live as if Buddhism were true? In doing so, we empower ourselves to enter, as fully as is possible in a skeptical age, into the ongoing, ever-changing life of the Dharma, adopting Buddhist ideals, telling Buddhist stories, articulating Buddhist doctrines, performing Buddhist rituals, and embodying Buddhist ethics in ways that make meaning for ourselves, provide a measure of comfort to others, and perhaps contribute in some small way to the betterment of the imperfect and imperiled world in which we all live.

Let the final word belong not to me, however, but to the Buddha, who in the Rohitassa Sutta (Discourse about Rohitassa) recounts a previous life as a seer named Rohatissa, “possessing magical potency, able to travel through the sky…[with] speed like that of a light arrow easily shot by a firm-bowed archer.” Conceiving the wish to find the ends of the earth, he traveled for a hundred years as fast as the wind, yet “died along the way without having reached the end of the world.” There is no “end” to the geographic world, explains the Buddha, but that is not, in any case, the end-of-the-world we should be seeking. Rather, we must seek the place “where one is not born, does not grow old and die, does not pass away and get reborn.” And where is the end of the world in this deeper sense—nirvāṇa—to be found? “It is,” he says, “in this fathom-long body endowed with perception and mind that I proclaim (1) the world, (2) the origin of the world, (3) the cessation of the world, and (4) the way leading to the cessation of the world.” As a result, “…the wise one, the world-knower, who has reached the world’s end and lived the spiritual life, having known the world’s end, at peace, does not desire this world or another.”


“As if” is powerful. There is also a powerful caveat. If you believe “as if” something is true, though you may still doubt it, it is essential that the belief do good for others—not just for yoursel. While Pascal says believing in the unprovable you “could gain everything”, it is others who should ultimately gain everything from your belief, not just you. If the belief brings other harm, better to not believe and act “as if.”

The Day the Buddha Woke Up

Buddha Comic Bodhi

December 8 is Bodhi Day, the day on which the Buddha’s enlightenment is traditionally celebrated.

The English word “enlightenment” is so packed with meaning that it might be better to just go back to what the Buddha is reported to have said: I am awake.

This is useful because it leads to the two questions: woke up from what and woke up to what?

The Buddha, sitting there under the Bodhi tree, woke up from a journey. Born a royal son, he had fled a life of accidental privilege to answer ultimate questions about suffering and death—the very same questions that consume religious lives of all kinds. He believed that if he tried a, b, and c (such as extreme asceticism), he would discover some secret x, y, and z. There was some kind of magic formula, and all he had to do was learn it. That sort of magic is still at the heart of much of our religion.

He woke up to discover that there was no magic, not in such an instrumental sense. Nothing was different. Suffering and death would not go away, no matter what efforts we make. The best and worst aspects of life would go on, with and without us. Great fortunes would be made and lost. Great structures would be built and then destroyed, by cataclysms natural and human. Love would be here and gone.

But this: He could see something in all of that that made sense of all of that. There is no big plan in which we are players, active or passive, though we could and do make and execute our own little plans. There are just things, relationships between those things, and change, and of all those of a singular piece. We can and do overlay that with all of our very complicated details and distinctions, which is after all a definition of the life we live. But if we discover that underlying existence, we just might choose to live differently. And in that living differently, make change and wake others up. And on and on.

None of that eliminated suffering and death for the Buddha, as it won’t for anyone. He grew old and tired and, legend has it, died from being given spoiled food. He had told his followers what he had discovered, none of which involved magic. It was all about the infinite depth of the ordinary. For him, there was no more a kingdom in the clouds than the kingdom he had left behind when he started his journey. There was just what is. Strive on with diligence, he told those followers at the last.

© 2025 Bob Schwartz

Not caring about receiving gifts or not receiving gifts

Buddhism identifies eight paired worldly and mundane concerns:

Receiving gifts—Not receiving gifts
Fame—Disrepute
Praise—Criticism
Pleasure—Pain

It is advised that attachment to any of these will result in suffering, for yourself and others. You don’t have to be involved in any tradition, just as a human being, to know that is true.

Concern about receiving or not receiving gifts has other facets. Concern about receiving the “wrong” gift, or concern about whether to give a gift or about giving the “wrong” gift.

This is the season for receiving and giving gifts. This message is not about receiving or not receiving or giving or not giving gifts.

You may receive gifts and give gifts. You may be famous or disreputable. You may win praise or be subject to criticism. You may feel pleasure or pain. This is life. The holidays are on their way.

This season, clinging to concerns about what you receive will not make you and others happy. The empty box, or even no box at all, is okay.

Interesting photo. But did I take it or did AI make it? What is reality, man?

I took the above photo of a nearby mountain at sunrise.

(Digression: “Take” is a curious word for the act of photography. I asked my trusty fake intelligence companion Claude—no offense Claude—why we say “take” for photos. A concise answer:


The phrase “take a photo” likely comes from the early days of photography when the process literally involved “taking” something from the scene.

In early photography, you captured and fixed a unique image from reality onto a physical plate or film. The light from the scene was chemically recorded—you were essentially taking an impression or imprint of that moment. This was a one-time extraction: that specific exposure on that piece of film couldn’t be repeated.

The metaphor stuck even as photography evolved. We continue to say “take” despite now making digital copies rather than capturing something unique, because the sense of actively capturing or seizing a moment from time remains.

Other languages have similar expressions—French uses “prendre” (to take), Spanish “tomar” (to take), though some languages like German use “machen” (to make), reflecting a different metaphor.


This is a fascinating quick explanation, and I’m sure if I asked for extended analysis, I would get much more.

It is interesting that Romance languages go with take, but Germans go with “make”. Extended AI analysis would likely explain this at greater length. But this digression has gone on long enough.)

Anyone might wonder whether my taking the photo and the circumstances I described are true. I haven’t, but if I provided enough detail, an AI photo could be generated that would look something like this. Not exact, but something much like this.

Except the sun is real, the sun was really rising, the mountain is real, the sun was really casting light and dark on the mountain, I am real, and I really took the photo. I should also mention that AI is real too.

Or. A subtle Buddhist concept is to learn to treat everything as an illusion, a dream. Not that all of that, all of this, is not real, just as if it is an illusion, a dream. Which it is.

Believe me, don’t believe me, when I say that I really took the above photo of a nearby mountain at sunrise. It doesn’t matter to the mountain, or the sun, or me.

What is reality, man?

Meditation: More than just stress relief and anxiety reduction

Meditation can do more than just relieve stress, reduce anxiety and sharpen focus, although it may do all that.

To explain what that more might be, here are a couple of paragraphs from one of the best introductions to Buddhism available, by Traleg Kyabgon Rinpoche (1955-2012):


In the West, what meditation means and the reasons for practicing it are understood in many different ways. Meditation has become quite popular. Many people, particularly in the health professions, now recognize its benefits. Some people think that meditation will help them live longer, prolong their youth, lose weight, stop smoking, and so on. Meditation may do all those things, but in the Eastern traditions, such as Buddhism and Hinduism, it has a more profound meaning. Meditation is not practiced for a specific reason such as reducing stress, increasing concentration while playing sports, or dealing with anxiety. It has to be put in the overall context of how we view our lives and how we perceive the world; this can only be provided by a certain kind of philosophical or religious perspective.

Many people are frightened by the notion of religion and say, “I want to learn how to practice meditation, but please spare me the Eastern mumbo-jumbo. I am quite willing to do the breathing exercises or whatever else you tell me to do.” In the Eastern tradition, the practice of meditation relates to transforming ourselves in a fundamental way, not simply changing one aspect of our self. By transforming ourselves we are able to deal with whatever happens in our lives in an appropriate and a meaningful way.

The Essence of Buddhism: An Introduction to Its Philosophy and Practice by Traleg Kyabgon


Everyone and everything matters


so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white chickens

William Carlos Williams, The Red Wheelbarrow


To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour

William Blake, Auguries of Innocence


It is a cliché. Someone intoxicated by marijuana or other psychedelics is fixated on the tiniest item, maybe followed by “oh, wow!” or laughter. Cliched because it can be true. Maybe you’ve had personal experience.

Getting high is far from the only path there. Buddhism describes and recommends perceiving tathata, thusness, suchness, things as they are, or in the words of Suzuki Rosh, things as it is.

The follow-up beat is that no matter how much you perceive the thusness of any particular thing, you can know that everyone and everything is thus. Everyone and everything is deeply itself and also the same, interdependent and equally important. Everyone and everything matters.

Williams’ red wheelbarrow and Blake’s grain of sand are things. And everything.

“Whatever you want, others all want as much; so act accordingly!”

Patrul Rinpoche

“Whatever you want, others all want as much; so act accordingly!”
Patrul Rinpoche (1808–1887)


The Kadampa teachings say that if we use our activities to open ourselves to the world with loving-kindness, patience, and understanding, we’ll bring the lojong spirit into everything we do. While our practices may be diverse, if our bodhichitta* attitude is natural and self-correcting, we’ll be doing everything with one intention. Patrul Rinpoche relates the following story to illustrate this:

When Trungpa Sinachen asked him for a complete instruction in a single sentence, Phadampa Sangye replied, “Whatever you want, others all want as much; so act accordingly!”
(Patrul Rinpoche, Words of My Perfect Teacher)

Traleg Kyagbon, The Practice of Lojong

*Bodhichitta. There are two aspects to enlightened heart: an ultimate and a relative one. Ultimate enlightened heart refers to the nature of the mind and relative enlightened heart refers to the cultivation and generation of compassion.


This sounds familiar, like a version of the Golden Rule, which instructs us not to do to others what we would not have done to us. A difference is that this goes beyond what we and they do. It is about what is in our and their mind, what you and they want. Which, surprisingly or not, is elementally the same. What we do or don’t do follows from what we think. So this might be considered the precursor or foundation of the Golden Rule.