Being Truly Human December 2004 Newsletter

From the Editor

At 2:00pm on Sunday 12th December at 47 Lillian Road, we shall be holding a Grand Christmas Sale of cassettes and books.

About 70 of Phiroz’s talks will be on sale on cassette at a price of £1.00 each. The quality of reproduction of the vast majority is good, but a few have a certain amount of background noise, and some of the cassette cases are not in absolutely pristine condition. But they represent extraordinary value for money.

Also reduced in price will be copies of three of Phiroz’s books, The Heart of Religion, Holistic Consciousness and The Oakroom Talks on Buddhism. Copies of Insight into Individual Living will be given away free.

Also available for sale will be a few copies of the colour photograph of Phiroz taken for his 90th birthday.

Prices will be held until 31st January 2005, but nothing will be sold before 12th December!

It is unlikely that there will be another opportunity to buy cassettes of these talks at such a bargain price, and they make a good Christmas present for the right person, as do the books on sale.

The Sale will be followed by tea and the playing of one of Phiroz’s talks. Do come if you possibly can.

From the Editor

This year our Summer School was held in Oxfordshire, from 16th–20th August.

The few days we spent together each year are always a time of happiness and harmony. We appreciated the peaceful atmosphere of the beautiful Oxfordshire countryside as we listened to Phiroz’s talks, spent time in discussion and just enjoyed each other’s company. As before we had delicious food, prepared by our team of excellent cooks, and the weather was kind to us.

A small fund exists to help those who find it difficult to meet the expenses of the Summer School. If you would like to contribute to this fund, please send your cheque to the Trust. Cheques should be made payable to Rosemary Monk, and not to the Trust.

A talk given by Phiroz Mehta at Dilkusha, Forest Hill, London on 21^st May 1976

In the sphere of religious teaching throughout the ages, certain qualities are expected of both the teacher and disciple. We had always the relationship of complete confidence and obedience for the teacher, and the teacher had to be one who fulfilled certain standards. Let me just quote what the Buddha said on this matter: “A Brahman whose nature is unsinful, not harsh, unstained, self-restrained, who has mastered knowledge and fully traversed the Brahma path, he rightly, a true Brahman, ought to announce the Brahma word.” He who has no self-obtrusiveness in the world, he is fit to be the Teacher, the Master. (There are tremendous implications in all this). Mastered knowledge, he says, and mastering knowledge in this case does not mean acquired information or knowledge or any particular know-how as such. That of course is taken for granted. But the one who had mastered knowledge in this context was one who had realized complete purification within himself and fulfilled the holy life in its supreme aspect of communion, total communion, with the Totality. He who had realized the Unconditioned, that was the Master. That is how the Buddha puts it.

Then there is an explication of the relationship between the guru, the teacher, and the disciple. In The Heart of Religion I have taken quotations from three of the great lawgivers, Āpastamba, Gautama and Manu. You have all heard of Manu, but Āpastamba and Gautama are not such well known names. Āpastamba and Gautama lay down that the teacher is enjoined to reprove an errant pupil. It is also laid down that the guru, the teacher, is to the disciple as a father to his son, and it is his duty to instruct him lovingly. “Loving him like his own son, and full of attention, he shall teach him the sacred science, without hiding anything in the whole law. And he shall not use him for his own purposes to the detriment of his studies, except in times of distress.” (Explanations are often given in the commentaries, for example sending him on errands or getting him to do things which do not definitely belong to his course of study as such). “A teacher who neglects the instruction of his pupil no longer remains a teacher.”

Then in the Institutes of Manu it is stated:

Of him who gives natural birth and him who gives the knowledge of the sacred science, the Veda, the giver of the Veda is the more venerable father; for the birth for the sake of the Veda bears eternal good both here and hereafter. Let a man consider that he receives only bodily existence when his parents begat him through mutual affection and when he was born from the womb of his mother.

But that birth which a teacher acquainted with the whole Veda, in accordance with the law, procures for him is real, exempt from age and death.

These are very weighty statements regarding the teacher-pupil relationship.

Then again Manu goes on to say:

Created beings must be instructed in what concerns their spiritual welfare without giving them pain, and sweet and gentle speech must be used by a teacher who desires to abide by the sacred law. He, forsooth whose speech and thoughts are pure and ever perfectly guarded, gains the whole benefit which is conferred by the Vedānta. Let him not, even though in pain, speak words cutting, hurtful to others; let him not utter speeches which make others afraid of him, since that will prevent him from gaining heaven.

It is very interesting to note their outlook three thousand years ago.

It is also stated in the Institutes of Manu that five or six pupils are sufficient. It must be remembered that the chelas lived in the little household of the teacher, and the household was in some woodland outside the bounds of the village, by a stream, and as far as possible surrounded by the beauty of nature. So you can imagine something of the real nature of this relationship between teacher and pupil, as a father to his own son, always treating him with love, with understanding and with infinite patience, and being in himself the living embodiment of the truths which he imparts to the pupil. This of course is exceptional, it has never been worldwide. But this was the ideal of master and disciple, guru and chela. It is rather interesting that the word guru literally means something which is heavy, which is difficult, which is restrictive, which brings about control. It is rather strange that the word guru means that originally, its first meaning.

In the Yoga Upaniṣads the guru of course is always the Yogi. It is taken for granted that any guru is himself a true Yogi. In the Nāradaparivrājaka Upaniṣad, Nārada is pointing out what are some of the qualifications of the teacher. (Nārada was the name of one of the great teachers, and parivrājaka means he who wanders and goes about teaching, living the holy life in the woodlands).

He in whom are existent control of all the senses, control of mind, purity of mind and body, truth, contentment, straightforwardness, poverty and non-ostentatiousness, these should be in the order of life for him. When he does not, through actions, mind or speech, commit any sinful action to any being, then he becomes fit for eating alms food.

The Yogis always had their begging bowl, not for expenses but for their food. Whatsoever was given was thankfully accepted and the Yogi blessed the giver. If anyone did not give, he still blessed the person who did not give.

Having become quiescent through the control of the mind, having practised all the different dharmas, having according to the rules studied Vedanta, one should take up Samnyāsa.

Samnyāsa means the retirement from the worldly life. This of course applied in the old days. Today things are different.

Courage, fortitude, the control of the body, honesty, purity of mind and body, conscience, knowledge, truth, and absence of anger, these are the characteristics of the Yogi.

He goes on in that manner, and he comes to this point:

Having given up passion, anger, pride, desire, and delusion, the Yogi should become one that owns nothing. He is a muni.

A muni is the silent one, one who is silent not only with his tongue, but with all the chatter that goes on in the brain, the unspoken chatter. His mind is silent, and the silence of the mind does not mean the repressing or suppressing of the flow of thought impressions as such, but it means freedom from the reaction of that mind to all the impressions that come to it. That is the silence of the mind that they talk of. He is not shut out of the world, he is in full relationship to it, but it is a relationship of complete harmlessness, a relationship of understanding. And so, that is the silent mind, that is the muni.

He is a muni who is devoid of hate, (of aversion and attachment really the translation should be), who regards equally a clod of earth, stone or gold, who does no injury to any living creature and is free. That Brahman, who is always afraid of respect being shown him as poison, and always longs after disrespect as nectar, sleeps soundly and rises happily, even though he is treated with disrespect. He moves about happily in the world. All cruel words should be endured by the Yogi, none should be treated by him with disrespect. On account of bodily relationship, none should be made inimical. No anger should be directed in turn towards one who is angry. Soft words only should be spoken, even when violently treated physically by another. No untrue words should be uttered, even should afflictions arise. One desirous of bliss should dwell in this universe through the aid of Ātma alone, intent upon Ātma, free from desires and without the desire to bless others.

There is the implication that there is the expectation of receiving gifts for which the Yogi blesses the other person.

I think that that is sufficient to tell us quite a great deal about what the life of the Yogi means, what he has to be within himself and with respect to his behaviour, behaviour not only outwardly as so much formal behaviour, but inwardly. He must in his mind and his heart, in his feelings, his thoughts, his speech, livingly represent all that a Yogi stands for. If one comes across a man who sets himself up as a teacher and is harsh, demanding, if he dominates you, lays down the law for you, then one begins to question, is he a true teacher? A true teacher is a true doctor ( doceo, docere, the Latin “I teach”). What does a doctor do? He makes whole, complete, beautiful what is not altogether complete or beautiful or whole. He restores one to health, not simply health of body but to health of mind, which means maturity of mind. Is it possible for anyone to help another to move towards maturity of mind if one is impatient with him, or gets annoyed or angry with him, criticizes him in the wrong way? It is laid down in the old teachings that of course any faults must be pointed out, but there is a great art in pointing out faults. If faults are pointed out in a manner which produces an antagonistic reaction in the pupil, then they have been pointed out in the wrong way, the harmful way. How shall a true teacher point out faults? If he points them out just openly, forthrightly as they say, with the belief that “I am not a person who minces my words” and all that sort of stuff, if he does it that way, then he is not helping the other person to see the faults for himself. He is presenting certain mental constructs in his own mind, he is throwing them at the pupil, and the pupil just reacts back antagonistically, or he is hurt, sometimes he is even physically hurt. That is no way to heal the pupil.

Unlike the work of a doctor who deals with the body by giving physical medicine, the healing of the mind takes place, and can only take place, from within oneself. But that healing power within oneself where the mind is concerned has to be evoked from that person. What is it that will evoke healing out of the other person? If I am in the position of a teacher, I myself have to understand the pupil’s difficulty, his immaturity or his illness so clearly and deal with him with such compassion that the right words, the right action, at the right time, can be performed by me as a teacher. The right suggestion acts upon the pupil’s mind in the perfect way. His own inner natural healing power is released, and it is that which heals, makes whole. This is something which is tremendously difficult. But you will appreciate why in the old days the Brahman was held in such veneration. He was supposed to have, and many of them did have, this ability to teach in that way, to heal the person. Therefore quite rightly they were held in veneration. What is the fundamental source of the Brahman’s gifts and abilities and his development, and the fundamental source of that which acts as this healing power from within the one who is in difficulty or is ill or is immature? Surely it is Transcendence itself, because this thing which heals is something unknown. You may call it God, you may call it essence of mind, if you want to, use the Hebrew word Neshamah, the spark of the Divine which is embodied in each and every one of us. Use what word you like, but it is one and the same Reality. This which is the Unconditioned, the Perfect, the Absolute, the Unknown, the Mysterious, the Infinite, it is this within each and every thing which is the healing power, the whole-making power. Everything which is manifested is this Transcendence itself which manifests in limitation through self-constriction. It limits itself, if I may so express it, it hurts itself, in order that the manifestation may be there. Each manifestation has the potentiality locked up within it for obtaining release of that Transcendence in perfection, according to the particular form which it possesses. What is the perfection of a tree, of a tiger, of a bee, of a stone, of the Earth, of you, of me, of the thunder and the rain? Each thing has its own specific perfection, its marvel and its beauty, and in its limited existence it has to manifest that.

So now, the teacher and the pupil. We understand teacher and pupil only in terms of two human beings. But throughout the animal world, maybe throughout the plant world, there is a teacher-pupil relationship. Doesn’t every mother animal and father animal teach its young that which belongs to its own inner nature and to express it in the right way, characteristic of that inner nature? (Blake’s “Tyger, tyger, burning bright.”) The nature of the tiger is to behave and act as the tiger behaves and acts. The father tiger and the mother tiger teach the little new-born tiger to become the perfect tiger and they are, if they succeed in their work, true teachers. In our own kingdom, the human kingdom, there are certain characteristics which are quite extraordinary. The spiritual teacher, by virtue of the power within him of Transcendent values, loves his pupil not as the imperfect human being loves his son or daughter, but as the Perfected One does, which means that in that love there is no ambivalence of a love-hate relationship. This is something which is extremely important. If the parents of the world could realize this, how to love the young without being tied up in this ambivalent state of the love-hate relationship, then what would those young grow up to be?

So you see that one of the implications is that, to be a Yogi, to practise Yoga, to be a religieux, to be concerned with living the religious life, is not something which is just another thing, like dancing is one thing, making motorcars is another thing, and so on. It is something which permeates our entire life and our entire being through and through. Everything else, as far as I know anyway, on this planet, is held within the sphere of duality. It is caught within those bounds. Where we humans are concerned, our personal existence as psycho-physical organisms will of necessity be held within the bounds of duality or of multiplicity. Because the organism is born, proceeds, it dies, it lives as a limited, finite, particular organism. Therefore it is bound to be held within that prison house, psychically and physically. But where the mind is concerned, where the growth of consciousness and awareness is concerned, there are no limits. In mind and consciousness one does not burst through or break through the bounds, but so completely understands the bounds and is free from attachment and aversion, the true pratyāhāra, to each of the duals manifest within that sphere of ambivalence, that one releases Transcendence embodied within into full manifestation, and the light shines through and through without destroying the organism, the finite, the particular being. Note very carefully that anything in our lives which is conducive towards this, any way of life, shall we say, any method (a word which many people like so much!), which leads to this, stimulates that power of Transcendence from within. But if that power of Transcendence begins to work and to function without the other aspect of preparation, our own pupillage to the truth, which spells our purification, the freedom from desires and conflicts and all self-orientedness, then the power of Transcendence, if it begins to be activated, can harm the person. Transcendence never says yes, it never says no, it is our personal responsibility. If we learn chemistry at school because we are so anxious to manufacture bombs, you know the results. In the old days it was just a pleasant joke, but you see today what has happened with the knowledge of how to handle a power. With the living of the religious life in any shape or form, in any of the great religious disciplines like Yoga which are the way of power, very definitely the handling and the utilization of power, there is the necessity for this preparation within, the mind and the heart, not to be thought of as an acquisition or development of virtues as against vices, but as a complete understanding, a complete accepting of the whole of that duality and transcending it. Then things are all right, but otherwise sooner or later there come difficulties and one does not understand why. There are the accounts of the lives of ordinary people, the lives of saints and so forth, the terrible agony they go through. “I have given myself unto the Supreme, and why has this stricken me?”. It is very difficult to understand and see that.

But try and understand, let the mind and the heart be still, free from grasping, free from personal ambition and desire to achieve and so forth, always watchful and let Transcendence work on its own. Then there is fruition, the fruition of the religious life in perfection. You see the old symbol that they used, the lotus, the flower that blooms, the source of power.

By Geoffrey Pullen

Having now spent a year and a half in Vietnam I felt it would be of interest to Newsletter readers if I offered a short overview of the spiritual/religious life there and how this has affected my stay there.

I initially went to Vietnam knowing it to be a Buddhist country and was very disappointed in my first year there to be in a town where there were very few pagodas and the only ones there had been rebuilt up after the communist victory in 1975. There were monks to be seen, it is true, and these officiated at funerals chanting far into the night, but the main role of the pagodas seemed to be to receive offerings from local people at full moon and at half moon and to redistribute these to the poor as best they could.

In fact the town I was in, Bien Hoa near Saigon in the South, had a much more active Catholic population. Church services were usually full and overflowing and on Sundays I counted four morning services as well as an equal number in the afternoon.

In fact there are 7 million Catholics in (mainly South) Vietnam and one street in Bien Hoa has a church every hundred yards or so for almost a mile. One monastery there invited me warmly to eat with the monks whenever I wished and had a fully active clinic dispensing herbal medicine and acupuncture to the local people at almost no cost.

It has to be said that although Buddhist and Catholics do not often intermarry (this is largely because of parental objections) there is great tolerance between the two communities and I seldom knew the religion of my colleagues unless they chose to tell me.

Clearly in a Communist country it is not useful to be a religious person to obtain advancement. I know of colleagues who have a portrait of Jesus in their home which can be turned round to display Ho Chi Minh.

Most families have a shrine in their homes at which they burn incense and portray photos of their deceased. But this is ancestor worship and is tolerated happily by the authorities.

The Vietnamese believe that the spirits of their ancestors, particularly those recently deceased, are hanging around their homes and need appeasing. Every year, on the death anniversary of, say, a grandparent, the whole family congregates (no need to beg for a day off work) and the eldest son is responsible for organising the day, which often includes a visit to the family grave, a group of chanting monks, the wearing of white, mourning headbands (for three consecutive years after a death) and a big meal at which over a hundred guests may be seated. Particularly during TET, (the Vietnamese New Year) the pagodas are full as people offer incense and food for health and prosperity in the coming year.

My second trip to Vietnam was to Dalat, a town in the Central Highlands, and here my experience of Buddhism has been much richer. Dalat is full of delightful pagodas, often with many monks living in them, but more important is the monastery of Chuk Lam (bamboo grove) situated high in the pine forests outside the town. Here I came in my first month and was welcomed by the English-speaking ‘hospitality’ monk who has since become a good friend. Chuk Lam has a resident Abbot of 83 years who is at present on a three year silent retreat. I see him sometimes doing walking meditation through the trees. Chuk Lam is a Zen monastery and Vietnamese Zen is somewhat similar to Chinese Chan Buddhism.

I often go to Chuk Lam for an afternoon sitting (2:30–4:30pm) and the peaceful setting and gongs and bells have a most refreshing effect on me. In fact I doubt if I would have survived my second tour without this ocean of peace in the hills.

Breathing meditation is taught after an introductory prayer and at the end the Heart Sutra is recited.

I also sometimes attend a morning sitting at my local pagoda from 4–5am. Most participants there are women but it is run by an elderly monk who walks around with a big ‘wake-up’ stick. So far he hasn’t used it on me. I tried to ascertain once if the pagoda belonged to the Chuk Lam Zen tradition. “Oh yes,” said the monk, “we are a branch of Chuk Lam”. “What about the Pure Land tradition,” I said, knowing that this was strong in Vietnam. “Oh, yes” he said, “we practise that too.”

“And I have heard that one of your monks is a follower of Thich Nhat Hanh” I continued. “Oh yes,” replied the monk, “we follow his teachings too.”

So as a person used to the strict divisions of Tibetan Buddhism I was initiated into the wonderful flexibility of the Vietnamese. The figure of Kwan Yin (Avalokiteshvara) who stands outside the pagoda looks suspiciously like the Virgin Mary and one Christmas as we admired the lights in the Catholic area of the town we were struck how all the Joseph figures at Nativity scenes looked suspiciously like David Beckham!

I have just heard that Thich Nhat Hanh is being invited back to Vietnam after an absence of over 40 years. This will be a great moment for Buddhism in Vietnam and I hope will mark a softening on the part of the authorities.

There are so many young people who would like to enter monasteries (often for very materialistic reasons) but as the country develops economically it is vital that this ancient culture is retained and developed to balance the blind copying of Western values that is taking place.

By Confucius

Men are partial where they feel affection and love; partial where they despise and dislike; partial where they stand in awe, and entertain feelings of respect; partial where they feel sorrow and compassion; partial where they are arrogant and rude. Thus it is that there are few men in the world who love, and at the same time know the bad qualities of the object of their love, or hate, and yet know the good qualities of the object of their hatred. Hence, we have the common adage: “A man does not know the richness of his growing corn.”