My parents were immigrants from the Philippines who arrived in San
Francisco some time during WWI. Because my father had been in the U.S. Navy
since 1908, he was able to be naturalized in 1917 along with my mother and
older brother and sister who were borne in Hawaii. I was born in San
Francisco in 1919.
Neither of my parents were very religious, although my mother was quite
superstitious, a lot of which rubbed onto me. We moved to a small
predominantly Catholic community just outside of San Francisco when I was
a year old. One day shortly after I started school, two Catholic nuns came
to our house to tell my mother that she had two sons that were not
attending Catechism. They told her that if we didn't start soon, they
would notify Jack Doyle, the Chief of Police and brother of the Pastor of
Our Lady of Perpetual Help Catholic Church. So, whether we liked it or
not, we became Catholics.
I entered high school at a Catholic convent and became quite a devout
Catholic, having received all of the necessary sacraments required of my
age. But going out into the world soon changed my mind. Racial prejudice
was quite rampant in those days and I became quite distraught with my life
as a Catholic American. When England and Canada went to war, I decided to
hitchhike to Canada to join the Royal Canadian Air Force. I had been
previously denied entry into the U.S. military service (other than as a mess
attendant) because of my ethnic background. Shortly after I arrived in
Portland, Oregon I came in contact with a bible group. Ironically, while I
was in High School, I close friend of the family gave me a King James
Version of the Bible which I had studied somewhat and which inspired me to
purchase a Douay (Catholic) Version. I saw little difference between the
two where it came to believing in God and Jesus Christ as our savior. So
I became quite a Bible scholar.
When U.S. started the draft, I saw an opportunity to get into the
military service through the California National Guard, which I had been a
member of. We were placed into federal service in March 1941, but I failed
the physical for some insignificant cause. I was placed on Draft Class 4-F
-- ineligible for military service. That is not the whole story, but the
rest is not important at this time. In 1943, a good friend of the family,
who was an army major West Point graduate and attached to the newly formed
Filipino Regiment, visited our home one day and asked me why I was not in
military service. When I explained in detail all that happened leading to
my being placed in Draft Class 4-F, he suggested that I write to the U.S.
Army Adjutant General and explain those circumstances. Upon receipt of
approval to re-enlist, I would be sent to Monterey.
After completion of
testing, I should ask for infantry assignment and assignment to the 1st
Filipino Regiment in Marysville, California. That is exactly what
happened, except that after being tested and interviewed by several
non-commissioned and commissioned officers, and after lots of argument
requesting infantry assignment. I ended up in the Army Air Corps, was sent
to Air Crew College and Aviation Cadet training. I was in school for two
and one-half years and the war ended and I was discharged.
During the Berlin Airlift, I was employed at Moffett Field Naval Air
Station, when one of the flight crew members who had just returned from
Germany called to talk to me and said that I should re-enlist for the
Airlift. Things were not going to well for me at home, so I ended up in
Germany. I met my wife to be, there after I had learned to speak German
quite fluently and my wife spoke no English. I was commissioned as 2nd
Lieutenant and was able to bring my wife home in concurrent travel on a
military transport ship.
My wife and I were interested in raising a family, and I felt that we
owed someone some thanks for the way life had been so kind to us. I tried
becoming a Catholic, but that didn't work. We were baptized Mormons, but
that didn't work. Somehow we ended up at Dixon, California and I was
employed at the University of California at Davis.
One day my sister
called me from Arizona and suggested that I get in contact with Nichiren
Shoshu of America in Sacramento. She sent a package of NSA literature that
I briefly browsed through. I did call the NSA Office in Sacramento and
told whoever answered that I would be interested in learning more about
their activities. A few weeks later, a young lady showed up at my UC
office and introduced herself as a member of NSA. She was also a UC
employee. She became our sponsor. I then decided to read, more intensely,
some of the of the literature that my sister had sent to me, and I was
quite surprised at how closely Buddhist philosophy matched mine. So my
wife and I attended our first NSA Regional meeting in Sacramento, and we
received our Gohonzon. I built a rather impressive Butsudan, and we
practiced quite fervently for the next few years.
After I retired from UC Davis in 1986, I worked at NASA Ames Research
Laboratory as a Tech Writer. I was having some stress problems which
doctors attributed to possible stomach ulcers or hiatal hernia. So after
two years at NASA, my daughter had an offer to transfer to Colorado
Springs where she could get into the Air Force Reserve flight engineer
program and continue with her job with the Aerospace industry. But she
didn't want to go alone, and so, with the though that my job was causing
my stomach problems, I retired again and moved to Colorado Springs.
And
again, ironically, I got an appointment with a doctor for some medication
for my stomach problem, and after being examined he informed me that I had
something more serious than stomach trouble. So he ordered an immediate CT
Scan that morning. That same afternoon I received a call from a
cardiovascular surgeon who informed that I had to be hospitalized
immediately; that I had an enlarged Abdominal Aortic Aneurysm. I was
operated on and was thankful that I had moved to Colorado Springs.
It took me six months to recover, but after I was able to get around, I
came in contact with NSA of Colorado Springs. I was not too impressed with
the people organization, which I think has always been a problem in
religious movements. At that time there was some conflict between SGI and
NSA. So I dropped out. Afterwards, when and wherever I could find a book
or literature on Buddhism, including Zen, I would buy it. Among some of
the authors which I have been reading were John Snelling, Stephen
Bachelor, His Holiness Dalai Lama, and Charles S. Prebish's Luminous
Passage, which led me to the Gateway to Buddhism WEB site and Pure Land
Jodo Shinshu. I was almost convinced that Zen or Ch'an was the way to go,
but it wouldn't work too well for my wife. Also, I was eventually led to
Taitetsu Unno's "River of Fire, River of Water."
Even before reading your most appreciative e-mail, I was quite
convinced that Shin Buddhism was the way to go for my wife and myself.
I've been jumping back and forth between your home study course and some
of the books that I have, especially Taitetsu Unno's "River of Fire,
River
of Water." I have found so much to read from the Shin Dharma Net,
that I
probably have not spent enough time concentrating on Nembutsu.
Before closing, there are two things that I thought I should mention:
(1) While on the train on the way to Monterey, California's Army Reception
Center, I thought to myself, 'What would I do if I came face to face with
a German or Japanese soldier, shoot or be shot?' I have never known any
German or Japanese person that I disliked. So I said a prayer, to whom I
don't know. I have since been to Japan and Germany, learned their language
and was treated most kindly in both countries.
(2) A few years ago I attended a home town get together with former
neighbors and school mates. One of my first or second grade school mates
showed me a class picture where I stood out like a sore thumb, being the
only non-Caucasian in the class, or in the school, for that matter. But
what stood out even more was my hands and fingers together in front of my
face in Gassho. I was about six years old, then. Does our Karma begin at
birth?
I've been thinking a lot about what to write about my father for your
Cyber Sangha web site and I don't know what to say now that he's gone.
Maybe because my father was to me what words cannot say. I'm not sure who
he really was inside, I only know how he made me feel.
I know that I was very proud of him and while he was still here I
talked about him all the time. Specifically, I recall a conversation I was
having with a co-worker, telling him about my father any how he sometime
made me laugh:
My father loved my strawberry cakes and when he came over to my house I
would make him a good cup of coffee, fix it just the way he liked it and
served him before anyone else -- as if he was a king. Then I would bake him
a cake (if I didn't have one already prepared). One time he was sitting at
the table in the kitchen and I asked him to cut two round pieces of wax
paper for the bottom of the cake pans. (I normally put the pan on top of
the wax paper and cut a circle around it.) Dad took a piece of wax paper,
folded it several times, measured the pan, made some calculations and a
drawing on a piece of notebook paper, cut an arc on the side of the folder
wax paper, unfolded it and placed it in the pan with an absolutely perfect
fit. My laughter was with amazement of how common and normal his use of
knowledge was to him.
Anyway, while I was telling my co-worker about this cake story, I had
to hold back my tears. Not because I was overly joyed or overly sad, but
because of the way I felt about him and how intense my feeling were.
This was only one of many time I felt this way when I talked about him
to friends and acquaintances. I told everyone about my father and talked
about him frequently and proudly.
My brother and I would talk to him as often as possible, sometimes for
hours at a time. It was always hard to hang up the phone or walk out the
door. Sometimes I would call him three and four times a day. Everything he
had to say seemed so important and so valuable to us.
I don't know how he did it, but he brought us love, happiness, wisdom
and the ability to know that we can be and do anything in this world.
If a king is defined as a ruler of a kingdom, one who is supreme,
highly successful and respected by all -- then he truly was our king. My
father thought he was a lot of trouble when he was ill, and I didn't have
the opportunity to tell him that it was an honor to have cared for him to
the very end.
I don't know that this is appropriate for your web site, but I felt the
need to tell you how I feel. You have a special place in our family and in
our heart. We are so grateful that my father had the opportunity to know
you and be a part of your Cyber Sangha.
I am so very sad and I miss him so much right now, but when everything
settles down, I would like to learn more about your Cyber Sangha and Shin
Buddhism. My brother and I both have copies of "River of Fire, River
of Water" that we are reading. If you have literature you can send
us, please do. Rev. Okamoto gave my father a little scroll, I'm not sure
what it means, but I would like to know how I can get a larger one. You
will hear from us again in the near future.
I am 44 and have recently "retired" from Art Museum work. I
share a house in the country with 4 cats, and my partner of 16 years. Our
property is adjacent to hundreds of acres of protected land, so we enjoy
seeing a significant amount of wildlife. Raised in wheat country, I seemed
destined (like my father) to farm the homestead of my grandparents and
work in the local copper mill. Fate brought me into contact with more
"worldly" people, including a maverick teacher in high school
who gave me a copy of Herman Hesse's "Siddhartha." My little world started
to crumble.
I left for California soon after graduation, and there began a
long, frustrating search for something I could trust, something beyond the
constricting influence of my childhood Christianity. Over the years I've
involved myself in a variety of approaches to meditation, Zen in
particular has occupied my mind and bookshelves. More recently I have
practiced a Tibetan form of Buddhism with a local (and only) Buddhist
group. After two years it began to dawn on me that a deep, meditational
path outside of monastic protection, here in modern America was a hopeless
task with the real risk of it becoming a source of pride.
The odds of a
Lay practitioner achieving enlightenment in this hyper, corrupt, violent,
anxiety ridden world seem bleak at best. I also noticed how freely the
term Enlightenment was tossed around by people (including authors) as
though they were talking about car repair; oh sure it would be painful,
but you'd be on the Autobahn to Nirvana in no time. Sure! I am new to the
path of Nembutsu, but it feels like Amida has been waiting for me my
entire life. I can't even say how it all fell into place, but it did and
has continued to do so.
The Internet discovery of writings on Shin
Buddhism confirmed my suspicions that I had truly found something great,
and that Amida was at work within those devoted paragraphs. D.T. Suzuki's
"Buddha of Infinite Light" is a wonderful gem from someone who's
thoughts on Zen had meant so much to me over the years. The photo on the
cover was a Buddha statue in a pose I'd never seen before; the head turned
to one side. The dust jacket explained that this was "Amida Looking
Back."
Not looking forward into the unimaginable bliss of the Pure
Land, but back at us, at me, and my little life here on this spinning ball
of dust. What a beautiful image to remind us of Amida's Vow of infinite
compassion. I recently sent Al Bloom a description of images that came to
me after reading his paper: "The Metaphysical Structure of Shinshu." (As an
artist it seems my brain is wired to work through complex ideas visually.)
Al suggested I share it with the rest of the Sangha, so here it is.
It was
the image of a rushing mountain stream. The rocks in the water were
symbolic of the Self, and the rushing water was Tariki-Other power. The
wonderful sound that the stream made was the Nembutsu. It was the sound of
Nature-as-Compassion, of Other power flowing around us.
I then realized
that there is only Stream; the rocks and water are not separate, but are
one and the same as a stream. I then imagined the circular cycle of this
motion, this beginningless Primordial Vow, from stream to river to ocean to
cloud to rain to stream in endless repetition, and that this circle was
not a collection of separate things, but one vast, flowing, nurturing,
Nature. The Nature of Amida. I'm looking forward to being a part of this
Sangha. Here in what most of America would consider to be the
"Outback," having the ability to interact with a community of
like-minds will be most appreciated.
About twenty years ago, I rejected Christianity. I could no longer
accept a judging God and identify with the hard-hearted, narrow-minded
people who worshipped him. At about the same time, at nearly thirty years
old, I began college. Without intending to do so, I ended up majoring in
philosophy, and going on to graduate school in philosophy, with a minor in
eastern religions. During that time, I was also trying to sort out my
spiritual thinking and path.
As a child, I always drew more strength from the earth quite literally,
through physical contact than from any other source. In my early
adulthood, in startling disjunction with my then-Christian belief, I had
an experience of oneness with the earth that remains formative. While in
college, I had another spontaneous experience, this time of rays of light
radiating out from my center, with "nothing" at the center.
(Words kind of fall short here.) From that I knew the truth of "form
is emptiness, emptiness is form."
So I've been an animist at heart,
and a Buddhist philosophically (influenced mainly by Nagarjuna, Dogen,
Thich Nhat Hanh, and some of the Mahayana sutras, as well as the Taoist
Chuang Tzu). I have held back from formally identifying myself as a
Buddhist, being unable to be involved in hierarchical institutions (Zen
masters, monks and nuns, Vajrayana guru yoga, etc.). I kept trying to
start and persist in a practice (meditation, rituals) or to keep the
precepts. Never did I succeed at any of that for more than just a little
while. And during all those years, I never once read Shinran who, when he
too failed in self-power practices, found the true depth of the power of
the name-that-calls, of Amida's vow. (Many religious studies programs have
a lot to answer for, fostering as they do the misperception that Jodo
Shinshu is just a popular salvation-religion, with no hint of
philosophical depth.)
Last year, wanting to broaden the scope of my teaching, I ordered a
selection of new texts to consider for class (Eastern Religions). One of
them was T. Unno's "River of Fire, River of Water." What an eye-opener!
Immediately, I ordered Tabrah and Matsumoto's "The Natural Way of Shin
Buddhism," a selection of Shinran's writings, and "Tannisho."
Deeper and
deeper, through thinking (hearing the name-that-calls), into the heart and
out: Namu Amida Butsu. This is it: shinjin. "Grasped, never to be
abandoned," unifying the past, dynamically settling the future. The
Immeasurable calls and draws us through the beauty of the earth, the
plants, the animals (nonverbal dharma), through the written teachings
(verbal dharma), and in our most hidden thoughts and feelings. How can I
not respond? Already, moment by moment, day by day, I find this shinjin
changing my thinking, my feelings, my choices, and my actions, without
calculation.
I am grateful for the nonhierarchical, non-dogmatic character of Shin
Buddhism, for the Cyber Sangha, and for Al Bloom's work in reaching out to
us. Gassho.
