Tonight I was reminded that the Buddha and his sutras have traveled a long way to our weekly dharma sit in the Unitarian Church in San Francisco. Now, decades after a few east-coast Jewish intellectuals ventured to his homeland, some of whom have become idols themselves in California, I will make my own way to India.
For the past two summers I traveled to Asia, a place I'd previously discounted as a travel destination. Full disclosure, for Trip #1: I was allured by photos of the amazing beaches in Thailand, and then for Trip #2: I received an unexpected invitation to apply for a teachers' program (Note: I'm not even a teacher). And now, Trip #3, I'm traveling to the land of the Buddha, on purpose. I want to meditate there. I want to trek through mist in the foothills of the Himalayas. I want to roam around India's sacred sites, eat its food and drink its chai.
Over the past two years my interest and knowledge of Buddhism has grown. I was first introduced to the Buddha's legacy on a 10-day Vipassana course in Thailand (Trip #1, 2013) and made more deeply aware of his cross-cultural influences during a visit to the revered Mogao Caves in China (Trip #2, 2014). Having meditated on and off for over a decade, I decided I wanted to do the full 10-day Vipassana course during my time in Thailand, after the beaches and elephant riding. I was relatively unaware of Buddhist teachings or that the course would focus on Buddhist practice and terminology. I'll spare you the details of my own personal journey during that retreat, but it suffices to say that after the 6th or 7th day (I'm not sure, as time blended), I had a brief and transformative period of blackness, weightlessness, and emptiness that offered a glimpse into the depths of where practice could take me. This crash course, experientially and didactically, prepped me for the ongoing weekly sits at SF Insight, where I had a context for terms like dana, dharma, sutra, dukkah, and panya. Following my return, I began to read about vipassana practice and the suttas and continue to meditate more regularly on my own.
I am excited and yet trying not to plan too much for the trip, to allow for the joys and tribulations we will undoubtedly face. But before I tread over roots that spread under ancient Indian soil, I'd like to write The Buddha a letter.
Dear Buddha,
Hello from 2015, where I can watch you on Amazon.com and blog about you in my pajamas. I know you're not into all that apotheosizing crap, but I want to give you a simple thank you. Thank you for being a courageous model for what it looks like to take a deep look at your actions and live in accordance with your values. I embrace this image in hopes of emboldening myself to make my own courageous steps to be kinder and wiser.
Thank you for your teachings, whatever they were. I find that I let my own curiosity wonder about what YOU really said or really did, even though I think the gist has survived: every living being will suffer, will die, and with our gift of awareness we'll be able to let it wash over us. Your belief in yourself, those around you, and in each of us living after you, to be able to seek our own truth strengthens my resolve to continue to practice.
I'm not the kind of person who accepts what people tell me. If for some reason you need to verify, I invite you to ask my parents, who have 32 years of evidence. To share one example from my early mediation days, I astonished several fellow retreat-goers when I walked out during the gurupurnima. Even at 22 years old, I felt an aversion to this seemingly fabricated notion of idolatry. Later I discovered, it is believed, that you also rejected this type of senseless worship and instead favored a faith in each of us as our own curious observers.
Thank you for sustaining this curiosity, for the ambiguity and seemingly contradictory aspects of your teaching. To have faith in each person's ability to access the truth, and yet distance herself from identification with the self; to witness the experience of suffering, and yet avoid passivity in the face of injustice; to avoid attachment and seek enlightenment. I wonder if you ever felt a leaning toward enlightenment or if you'd never considered it until the moment you suddenly experienced it.
To be honest, I let my own ego get the best of me more than I'd like to admit, like when I said to myself, "I wonder when I'll be enlightened?" Or better yet, "maybe I already am enlightened or on that path at least." I feel shy to expose my moments of self-inflation. I feel worse thinking of times I've hurt people with my words or thoughts. I even worry that writing this letter is somehow blasphemous. I even preemptively feel embarrassed that I somehow missed the boat, and anyone reading this would think, wow, she really doesn't get it? While I cannot shirk responsibility for any wrong behavior and don't plan on taking up some other precepts by living in monastery, I also cannot wear my own guilt and shame like shackles. I'm human, and I find comfort knowing that once you were, too. When I'm on a meditation cushion, and I make little jokes to myself, conjure up my next travel plans, work out my interpersonal conflicts, or try in vain to keep my left foot from falling asleep, I sometimes crack a little internal smile wondering if you had your own 5th century B.C. version of this.
I also wonder amidst all the insights and wisdom you experienced during meditation, how did you turn it into something you could teach? I wonder about what you kept private and why. I wonder if you ever felt good about your progress as a teacher or if you had moments of self-doubt. I question if it's ok to allow myself to feel excited about my growth and insights and even entertain the notion that I'd like to teach someday.
Throughout my travels, I've seen hundreds, maybe thousands, of images of you, and I like to believe that's not really you, but someone's idea of who they want to revere. I like to think of you as a friend from another era. Like so many others I allow myself to enjoy this image I've created of you: wise, gentle, kind, open, intelligent, and quiet. In the absence of a response from the enlightened afterlife, I will continue to try to observe reality for myself.
From me to you with love, Elaine
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