Who We Are

What We Offer

Organizations

Events

Membership

Contact Us

 

Dharma July 2007

Selected articles from the July 2007 issue of the SJ Buddhist Church Newsletter, The Dharma...


Revisiting the Past, Lessons for the Future and Today

K. Ken Fujimoto

In reflecting upon what to write about for this month I was reminded of an article that I had used in the Japanese section of a newsletter that also reminded me of events from 26 years ago. This can be seen as an aspect of Obon when people and events of the past revisit us to give us a new or deeper perspective on our lives.

The article I was introducing was a portion of a talk given by the scheduled Japanese speaker, Rev. Takayuki Ashikaga, for a BCA Buddhist Women's Associations Conference held in Los Angeles a number of years ago. I sometimes introduce articles such as this in the hope that it will encourage more people to attend the conference.

In this article, Rev. Ashikaga was recounting his experience in losing his thirty-six year old son to cancer. Apparently, it was a relatively rare form of cancer that strikes one in some 200,000 in Japan with very little hope of remission. There were a number of poignant details that were raised, but the part that struck me was the affect of chemotherapy on the son and his fixation with food toward the end.

This struck me because it reminded me of my father and his bout with cancer. In reflection, the form of cancer must have been very similar as well, but the reaction to the chemotherapy was even more strikingly alike. Rev. Ashikaga's son decided not to undergo the third round of chemotherapy because it caused him to suffer so greatly. It seemed to have felt like a lid had been placed on his stomach and nothing would go down, even if he happened to have the energy to eat. My father described his feelings in a similar manner. He dreaded his treatments and said he had no desire to eat and even when he was able to eat, he could not seem to keep anything down. It would take the better part of a week to get to the point where he could eat anything and keep it down. By then, it was time for his next treatment. It created a depressing and, seemingly, endless cycle.

Even in this situation, on one of his last visits to his son in the hospital, Rev. Ashikaga noticed a book, a food magazine by his pillow. When he asked him about this, the son replied that since they did not feed him much and nothing tasted good at the hospital, he was planning on what he might want to eat when he got out. My father was the same way. He would often talk about wanting to eat this or that or that when he got better he wanted to go to a particular place to eat a special dish there.

This shows the depths of what we refer to in Buddhism and Jodo Shinshu as bonno, blind desires or passions. Both of them complained that they could not eat, yet they still had cravings for what they imagined to be delicious or good. They were in pain and facing death, but they still had desires that they wanted to have fulfilled. These desires are so deeply entrenched that we cannot easily free ourselves from them.

The beauty of this situation is that it does not matter. There is no need to free ourselves from these deeply entrenched desires. The compassion of Amida reaches out to us because we are unable to free ourselves from these desires. Some people may have the strength and ability to cut off all of their desires on their own, but for those of us who cannot, the great compassion accepts us as we are and leads us to liberation.

The Buddha-dharma will not erase our desires. It will not take away the pain and suffering of cancer or other illness and injuries regardless of whether we are the one who is ill or our suffering and pain comes from watching someone we love and care for experiencing the direct pain of the illness. What it wil do is show us that this is the human condition. It will show us that despite all of this pain and suffering, in the end, everything will be all right. An individual's suffering will end with death, but their influence and guidance will continue. We only need to live our lives in the realization that each instant of life and encounter is a rare and wonderful event, even if it should be painful at that instant. Such painful instances can also teach us much and serve us in our lives. To see and appreciate this is to gain insight into the depth and breadth of the great compassion.

This Obon season should be a time where our awareness of the lessons given to us by those that have gone before are deepened. We should also come to see that those lessons can continue to guide us through our journey though life. This should be where the the significance of this season lies.
~ June 21, 2007


The Newspaper

G Sakamoto

It all started a few weeks ago. I was minding my own business doing the usual things like taking out the garbage and talking to the neighborhood cat. It was an early Tuesday morning and I looked forward to a quiet day. I picked up the paper and headed back into the house unaware of what was about to happen.

I went back into the house, poured myself a cup of coffee. It was black, black as the type that poured stories across the morning news. Okay, maybe it wasn't that black, but it was black. The news was the usual fair, people unable to sort out truth from fiction. Stories of people who went too far, risked everything and won. When I was done reading the comics I decided to get up and go for a walk. Me and the Mrs. had been trying to get in shape for the upcoming choir trip. We put on our shoes and stepped out the door. As we passed our next door neighbor's yard, her paper had not been picked up yet so I did the neighborly thing and put it on her porch. We continued on our walk not suspecting what we would find on our return. The paper I had put on our neighbor's porch was in our driveway. I didn't think about it much. Maybe she just misunderstood. So I picked up the paper and put in the recycling bin.

The next day dawned early and bright, like mornings have a tendency of doing. I went out as usual and picked up my paper. I looked over at my neighbor's driveway just to see if her paper was there. Sure enough, there it was all neatly bundled up with its rubber band which can't go in the recycling because it needs to go in the trash. I went back inside. All was right with the world.

It was getting late, the kids at Lotus Preschool would be waiting. So, I picked up my things and got ready to go. When I opened the garage door, it was like a call from some distant planet. There it was, it sat there in our driveway like nobody's business. The morning paper, which I had just read, okay, maybe just skimmed--I usually get my news through the internet--was sitting in the driveway. Needless to say I did a double take.

What was the paper doing in our driveway? Was there someone messing with us? Was she angry at us? I should have trimmed the kaki tree. I picked up the paper and brought it into the garage. I stood there, dumbfounded. Was she trying to say something? She was a nice neighbor, didn't say much, but lately she was acting a little peculiar. Like the other night, we were starting our grill. It was our usual time around 9:00 in the evening. The coal were just getting started, white smoke billowing everywhere. Suddenly, she turned on her backyard lights, like she was looking for someone and then, just as suddenly, they went off.

I know this is all very paranoid. But there were other things. Like when she left her lights on in just one room constantly, day in and day out. And, we never saw her. Was she becoming a recluse?

Finally, one morning, I saw her in her front yard. I decided to go over and talk with her to find out what was going on. Turns out that she stopped reading the paper a long time ago and cancelled her subscription. That was maybe 15 years ago. She thought that the paper person was mistakenly tossing our paper on her driveway, so she was tossing it back on ours.

I began to think about the Dharma. Sometimes we don't see things as they are. Sometimes all it takes is a little conversation.


Presidents Message

What is Your Handicap?

Al Hironaga

Some of you are probably thinking of your golf handicap. Others are thinking of their bowling handicap. My article this month is about physical and mental handicaps - disabilities that hamper a person's ability to perform certain functions. And how am I able to write about disabilities? No, I am not a doctor or other medical professional. I am able to write about disabilities because I do have at least two (some would say that the actual number is higher).

My first disability is my poor vision. I have been wearing glasses or contacts since I was thirteen years old. Without glasses or contact lenses, I would not see very well and definitely would not be able to perform many tasks like driving a car, operating machinery which require keen vision, or flying an airplane. In fact, my poor vision prevented me from ever becoming a pilot in the Air Force. I know that there are many others who also have poor vision, but by wearing glasses or contact lenses, we are able to perform almost all activities that someone with normal vision can perform. Of course there are those who are totally blind and are not able to improve their vision with physical devices. Although my vision is poor, I am glad that I can still see.

My second disability is my poor hearing. Sometime during my career in the Air Force, I began to hear a ringing in my ears, which the doctors explained was a condition called tinnitus, for which there wasn't anything they could do. The ringing was a nuisance that I was able to eventually ignore, but then I noticed that my hearing ability seemed to be slowly deteriorating. I had trouble distinguishing what people were saying, and had to ask them to repeat what they said. I went to an audiologist, who conducted many tests and found that I had lost some of the high frequency range of tones. I was fitted with hearing aids in both my ears and my hearing is improved when I wear them, but even with hearing aids, my hearing is still not normal. I do not have much trouble hearing when I am in a conversation in a quiet room with one or two other people, but in a crowded room with lots of background noise, I have trouble hearing what is being said. Some of the worst places for me are at restaurants and banquets, where there are many background noises. The background noise is amplified by the hearing aid, and distinguishing the voices that I want to hear from the noise is just about impossible. Needless to say, I purposely try to avoid getting into conversations under such circumstances. I know that there are others who also have poor hearing and may also wear hearing aids and share the same experiences. Of course there are others who are totally deaf and are not able to improve their hearing with physical devices. Although my hearing is poor, I am glad that I can still hear.

I could go on and write about other disabilities, but I said that I have only two - remember? How many do you have? As we get older, it seems that we become less able to do what we did when we were younger, i.e., we acquire disabilities. But no matter how annoying our disabilities are, there are always those who are less fortunate than we are. It is the classic situation of the glass being half empty or half full. The pessimist feels that he/she is unjustly disabled and is unhappy that he/she cannot perform as he/she wishes to perform. The optimist knows that there are others facing greater adversity and he/she is grateful for the abilities that he/she has. One is mostly unhappy and the other is mostly happy. Which of the two are you?

In Gassho,
Al Hironaga

All general queries should go to [email protected]. Website specific questions and and updates may be emailed to [email protected].