Personal Stories:
Responses to Shin Buddhism ...
A.B., Colorado
(Sept. 30, 1919 - July 2, 2000)
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?
Ms. V.B.'s memory of her father, A.B.
I've been thinking a lot about what to write about my
father for your website 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 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 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 20 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
30 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 Sangha, and for Al Bloom's work in
reaching out to us. Gassho.
