Not This, Not That ~ AGAIN IN MALAYSIA
In
’91, I felt the urge to travel, so took leave
of my supporters and flew to Singapore, where I spent
a few days before going to Muar. At the bus-station
there, while waiting for someone to pick me up and
take me to the Buddhist Society, a young woman came
up to me and asked if I were a Buddhist. I told her
that, in order to answer her, she must first tell
me what she understood by the term ‘Buddhist,’
as it might be different from my understanding of
it. She said she didn’t know much about Buddhism,
so couldn’t really tell me. However, it was
an opening that led to other things. She went on to
tell me that her father ~ who she’d loved dearly
~ had died not long before, and she was very distressed
by this, and, far from finding solace in anyone, had
lost her faith in humanity; she complained that people
were hypocrites. At this, I had a flash of insight,
and interrupted her, saying: “Yes, we are, aren’t
we?” and explained that we are all hypocrites,
not because we want or try to be, but just because
it is part of the condition of unenlightened life.
Just then, my ride came, and I went off, but met this
woman again on several occasions, and explained a
little more to her in a way she could understand,
thus putting her mind more at ease. Meeting her was
an auspicious beginning of what was to be an overall
good trip in Malaysia; it was not planned or pre-destined,
but neither do I consider it an accident, as things
don’t happen just by themselves, but as the
result of causes ripening together at certain points
in time; all things have causes ~ count-less
causes ~ and are therefore not accidents but incidents
or events. And although we often say that things go
wrong when they don’t turn out as we would like,
this is not so; things don’t go wrong, they
happen, and it’s up to us to see what we can
do about or with them.
During one talk in the Buddhist Society, I spoke of
Siddhartha seeing the Four Startling Sights ~ an old
person, a sick person, a corpse, and an ascetic ~
and said that, contrary to what the books say about
this, I could not accept that he was seeing such things
for the first time in his life, but that, on this
occasion, his mind must have been particularly sensitive,
and it was as if he were seeing them for the first
time.
At this, the president of the Buddhist Society stood
up rather irately, and practically threatened me with
damnation, saying that people who distort the scriptures
will go to Hell! Echoes of medieval Christianity!
I had visions of witch-hunts and people being stretched
on the rack or burnt at the stake, merely be-cause
they were slightly different in some way, or didn’t
conform to the prevailing norm!
Well, that man and I obviously see things in different
ways, but I can’t imagine the Buddha, who gave
us the Kalama Sutta, and urged us to investigate
things and find out for ourselves, saying things like
that. I will quote here from a book called, Insights
For The Age of Aquarius, by Gina Cerminara,
published in 1973, a book which I would like to see
become required reading in all high schools, as it
is full of practical wisdom. She includes a quote
from another book, An American Bible, by
Elbert Hubbard:
“In courts of law, the phrase, ‘I
believe’ has no standing. Never a witness gives
testimony but that he is cautioned thus: ‘Tell
us what you know, not what you believe.’
“In theology, belief has always been regarded
as more important than that which our senses say is
so. Almost without exception, ‘belief’
is a legacy, an importation ~ something borrowed,
an echo, and often an echo of an echo.
“The creed of the future will begin, ‘I
know,’ not ‘I believe.’ And this
creed will not be forced upon the people.
“It will carry with it no coercion, no blackmail,
no promise of an eternal life of idleness and ease
if you accept it, and no threat of hell if you don’t.
“It will have no paid, professional priesthood,
claiming honors, rebates and exemptions, nor will
it hold estates free from taxa-tion. It will not organize
itself into a system, marry itself to the State, and
call on the police for support. It will be so reasonable,
so in the line of self-preservation, that no sane
man or woman will reject it.
“As a suggestion and first rough draft, we submit
this:
“I know that I am here in a world where
nothing is permanent but change, and that in degree,
I myself can change the form of things and influence
a few people; and that I am influenced by the example
and by the work of men who are no longer alive.
“And that the work I now do will in degree influence
people who may live after my life has changed into
other forms….”
Mrs. Tan ~ whose husband I’d visited before
he died of cancer ~ knowing I was working on a new
book, invited me to stay in her home so I would have
more peace. I accepted, thinking her sin-cere, and
moved into her large house, where indeed, the condi-tions
were more conducive. I was able to get on well with
my book there, and after some weeks, it was ready
for printing in a nearby press. This was the first
edition of BECAUSE I CARE.
During this trip in Malaysia, I visited the refugee-camp
at Sungai Besi near K.L. several times to give talks
and encourage the people, and thinking to help them,
put out a call in Malacca and Muar for used clothes.
The response was such that two truck-loads were collected,
and someone offered to deliver them to the Camp, where
they were unloaded at the temple under the supervision
of the Camp security personnel. It is true that some
of the clothes were not very good (some people had
even put in old and not-too-clean underwear!), but
many were.
Years before, Wong had told someone that if he reached
the age of 40 and was still single, he would become
a monk and follow me. Now, here he was at 38, about
to get married, and invited me to the wedding. I attended,
and gave him and his wife my heartfelt blessings,
but I was sorry, really, to see him go.
I set off on an extensive speaking-tour which took
me all over West Malaysia, and during it, developed
a cough which became progressively worse and defied
all the medicines, syrups and lozenges that people
loaded me up with. It came to a head at the casino-resort
at Genting Highlands, just outside of Kuala
Lumpur. I’d gone there to give a talk to the
Buddhists who worked there, and they’d put me
~ together with another monk ~ to stay overnight in
the hotel. Early the next morning, I awoke with a
terrible pain in my chest, and thought I was having
a heart-attack. I didn’t say anything, as the
other monk was still asleep, but lay there for a while
trying to suppress the pain. When I managed to get
up, I sneezed, and almost collapsed from the pain.
Still, I said nothing, and after breakfast, someone
came to take me to a nearby town for a talk in the
temple there. We arrived before lunch, and people
were preparing food for me, but I felt so bad that
I slumped to the floor with my back against a wall.
They were unconcerned, and didn’t show me to
my room. I told them I didn’t want to eat anything,
and they went off. By evening, I pulled myself together
enough to give my talk, and then Wong ~ who I’d
called earlier to ask if he would come out and pick
me up ~ arrived to take me back to K.L. I stayed with
him for a few days, and he could see I was unwell;
he later said that I wasn’t my usual cheery
self, and it was true. Anyway, someone else insisted
on taking me to see a doctor, and I credit him ~ Dr.
Joseph Soo ~ with saving my life, because, after
ex-amining me, he sent me for a chest x-ray at a Seventh
Day Ad-ventist hospital, and paid for it himself;
the results showed a shadow on my left lung; I was
diagnosed with pneumonia! Dr. Soo put me on antibiotics,
and I slowly began to recover, without the need for
hospitalization.
I had quite a rough time; but didn’t let it
interrupt my appoint-ments. I returned to Malacca,
where D.V. arranged for me to stay with some of his
friends, as he was unable to offer me ac-commodation
at the time. One night, when he came to pick me up
and take me for a talk, I was coughing so badly that
I could hardly stand up.
“You can’t go like this,” he said;
“You’ll have to cancel!”
“I’m going,” I said, “Even
if I die. Come on.” I’d been to this particular
place before, you see, and always got a good hearing;
the people were receptive and attentive; had it been
a place where people were not interested, I might
have cancelled, but this place was special. When we
got there, as soon as I entered the door, my cough
stopped. Halfway through my talk, I realized I was
feeling great, and afterwards, on the way home, D.V.
said, “I couldn’t believe it ~ before
and after: what a difference!”
“That is the power of the Dharma,” I said,
“It works through the mind on the body.”
But it was a temporary reprieve; I still had far to
go in my recov-ery. A few days later, back in Muar,
a talk had been arranged in Mrs. Tan’s house.
Aware of my condition, some people tried to persuade
me to rest and not talk. I told them not to feel sorry
for me because I was sick, but to be attentive to
what I would say, as I would be speaking from the
center of the storm, from direct experience,
with authority, and not from mere theory. I said that
I didn’t feel sad because my body was sick,
and therefore was not suffering, and actually, they
should feel happy for me.
“Happy? But you are sick!”
“Yes, I’m sick, but I’m lucky; lucky
because it is the worst sickness I’ve ever had;
however, instead of feeling sad about it, I use it
to compare and measure how fortunate I’d been
to remain healthy and free from serious sickness for
so long until now; this sickness reminds me about
this and about how everything is im-permanent. The
Dharma enables me to turn it around.”
Back in Malacca, there was a water-shortage, as the
local res-ervoir had been polluted and had to be drained.
It went on for several weeks, and was very inconvenient
for most people, but as the saying goes, “It’s
an ill wind that blows nobody any good.” Now,
D.V. worked for his father in the pump-business he’d
set up years before, and they had a great increase
in sales.
For the first time, I visited a Buddhist Society in
Johor Bharu named Metta Lodge, where
there was so much emphasis on ‘making merit,’
that breakfast consisted of about 50 dishes, which
was overdoing it a bit. I wondered what they would
have said ~ all the people who came to offer this
food ~ if I’d some-how managed to eat it all.
Many of them clearly had such high expectations of
monks that disappointment was unavoidable. Like moths
to a candle-flame, they were fascinated at this time
by a Thai superstar-monk who had been discovered
and introduced to Malaysia by Mahinda, and was already
well-known as charismatic and handsome; I wasn’t
impressed, however, as his books were full of photos
of him posing like a movie-star, clearly aware of
his good looks and the effects he had upon others.
I recall thinking then that he was too handsome for
his own good. His fame went to his head, and he was
later brought down by a scandal that blew up around
him. Whether he was guilty of the things he was accused
of or not, I cannot say. He denied the charges, but
his adamant refusal to submit to a DNA-test cast doubts
upon his integrity.
Until then, he had many followers in Malaysia, Singapore,
Australia and other countries, and was regarded and
received as an arahant in many places ~ including
MBMC in Penang ~ and white cloths spread before him
to walk on and ‘consecrate’; some folks
then took these cloths home and treated them as objects
of veneration, like holy relics; he was rapidly becoming
a cult-figure, and did nothing to discourage this
unhealthy trend, and he must surely have been aware
of it; in fact, by not discouraging it, he tacitly
encouraged it and caused people to be-come
dependent upon him. In my opinion, this was his biggest
mistake; he allowed people to worship him, and eventually,
many people became confused and lost their faith.
Of course, they lost their faith because it was misplaced,
but he, in his posi-tion, should have used his influence
to correct this and teach that a Buddhist’s
faith should be in the Dharma, so that nothing can
shake it. He should have explained that personality
is in-substantial, hollow and empty, and will only
let us down; like sand, it’s not a good foundation,
and will crumble when troubles arise. Instead of doing
this, however, he allowed people to be-come addicted
to him ~ quite the opposite of the Buddhist Way.
Sadly, this kind of thing is not uncommon; numerous
teachers and gurus are more concerned with promoting
themselves than with helping people to understand
Dharma; in reality, they are not teachers but cheaters!
So often I have seen how the excessive respect paid
by lay-Buddhists to monks and nuns has a corruptive
effect, and can become more intoxicating than whiskey.
One must be on guard against it. It happens, in the
case of the laity, when there is more faith than wisdom,
and in the case of the monks, when there is more self-esteem
than wisdom; in both cases it happens be-cause the
central place of the Dharma is neglected or forgotten.
Consequently, when scandals like this arise, many
people lose their faith, whereas if it had been solidly
rooted in the Dharma, they would not have been so
shaken, and would still have been able to carry on.
Long ago, I rejected the personality-cult of Christianity,
and now, free from belief in Jesus as a savior, regard
him as a teacher. I do not mind that he was not free
from imperfections; a person doesn’t need to
be perfect in order for me to learn from him something
useful to me in my own life; in fact, it’s maybe
better that I see his imperfections, as it is easier
to relate to him than it would be to someone perfect,
if there is such a thing. Christians are not allowed,
or refuse to see, the imperfections of Jesus; the
Church has glossed over and explained them away, and
made him into an unrealistic figure. The image it
has projected of him is of someone so far beyond us
as to be impossible of emula-tion; this is what comes
of deification, of regarding a person as divine instead
of human. Rather than being an elevation, it is really
a degradation, and renders meaningless the attempts
of a teacher to lead people to higher things than
they have hitherto been aware of, and to indicate
the potential of being human.
Milarepa, Tibet’s most famous and respected
yogi, was once re-quested by the people of a certain
village to stay with them as their guru. Gratefully
declining, however, he said that if he were to stay
with them, there would soon come a time when they
would focus critically on his manners and behavior,
and no longer listen to him when he explained the
Dharma, and that would be to their detriment. It would
be far better, he said, if he kept himself at a distance.
What was he saying? That the Dharma is most important,
and should not be confused with per-sonality. If only
we would realize and remember this, it would be so
much easier for us to understand the Dharma.
I spent 6 months in Malaysia this time, during which
Piyasilo made the news big-time, but not in a way
he wished (and oh, did he crave power and fame!) Since
his downfall and expulsion from Seck Kia Eenh in ’78,
he’d moved to a Thai temple in K.L., but soon
wore out his welcome there. He then went to London,
to join Sangharakkshita’s organization, Friends
of the Western Buddhist Order (FWBO), but they
also soon saw through him, and he was sent packing.
He next went to California, trying to get a toehold,
but people there faxed KL to ask about him and when
informed of his character, rejected him. Back to Malaysia
he came again and set up an organization ~ I mentioned
earlier about his organizational ability ~ called
FOBM: Friends of Buddhism Malaysia. But,
instead of acknowledging the source of his ideas for
this, he bad-mouthed Sangharakkshita and the FWBO.
Then, as time passed and he attracted people to him,
he started to attack everyone, including the self-styled
Chief High Priest of Malaysia and Singapore,
Dhammanda. He was so paranoid and insecure, that he
had to strive to be Number One, and of course, in
this, he failed. His attacks were always veiled and
without names, but everyone could tell who his targets
were.
Finally, unable to take any more, some of his disciples
~ oh yes, he considered he had disciples,
this foolish idea! ~ exposed him and his misdeeds
became public knowledge, and appeared on the front
pages of Malaysia’s newspapers. Confronted by
some Thai monks, he promised to disrobe, but not surprisingly,
didn’t keep his word; his word meant nothing
at all; everything about him was a lie. He tried to
blackmail his supporters into staying with him, saying
that if they deserted him, he would become a Christian
and attack Buddhism, but it didn’t work. Only
after some months was he prevailed upon to disrobe.
His place was closed, and he went into hiding, with
one or two of his die-hard supporters. A snake is
always a snake, however, and he contin-ued to work
his mischief.
In K.L., someone by the name of Charles ~ who I’d
known since 1986 ~ introduced me to a couple who were
visiting from Austra-lia; thus I came to know Bok
and Pearl, who were themselves Malaysians, but living
in Sydney, where I saw them whenever I was there over
the years until now as I write this. They are gra-cious
people, and have been very supportive of me, organizing
talks for me whenever I’m there.
Also, at this time, I was told Khantipalo had disrobed.
“How can it be?” I said, “He’s
been a monk for over 30 years!” I knew, of course,
that he had turned from Theravada towards Vajrayana
and had become more flexible, and some people were
upset about this, but I found it hard to believe he
would disrobe. It was true, however, as I was later
to find out.
My trip in Malaysia almost over, I stayed at Mrs.
Tan’s again, but she was quite different towards
me this time. Other people could see the change in
her, too. I racked my brain to see what I might have
done to cause her change of attitude towards me, but
could find nothing; it wasn’t as if I’d
made a pass at her or any-thing like that. I later
asked other people if they knew what had caused it,
but they either didn’t know or wouldn’t
say, and my several letters to her from Melbourne
went unanswered. The only thing I could think of that
might explain it was the US-based Tibetan Rinpoche
she was quite close to; she was a wealthy woman, and
he might have felt threatened by me, and said something
to her. It remains a mystery until now.
Back in Singapore, I stayed with Dhammika again in
a new place he and his supporters had set up, and
which they’d called Buddha-Dhamma Mandala
Society, but he is like me in several ways, one
of which is that he is difficult to stay with. One
day, unable to use a typewriter, he asked me to type
a letter for him, which I willingly did. While doing
it, I said, “Why don’t you learn to type?
If I can, you can” (I type with just three fingers,
pecking at the keyboard with my right index finger,
my left index finger on the space-bar, and my next-to-last
left finger on the shift, but I manage alright and
am quite fast). Sarcastically, as if I were criticizing
him, he said: “That’s for sure!”
Now, why did he feel a need to say this? He never
learned to type well, and as late as 2004, when I
read through a new book he’d written, I knew
he’d typed it, although he never admitted it;
there were so many typ-ing and spelling errors, and
throughout it, he’d spelled ‘alms-bowl’
‘alms-bowel’! Not only is his
hand-writing childish scrawl, and his typing horrible,
but I think he must be dyslexic, which is not his
fault, of course, but he ought not to be so arrogant!
Some students of Singapore’s Polytechnic invited
me to give a talk, and afterwards, one of them asked
me what was rather an impertinent question (Piyasilo
had been active here, and I got the feeling she was
one of his followers, and probably thought he was
‘the best’). She said: “What have
you achieved in your life?” ~ a question to
‘measure’ me.’ I thought for a few
mo-ments, then said: “I survived.” Whether
she understood my reply or not was immaterial, but
to survive day-by-day, when we might die of a thousand-and-one
causes ~ as many people do ~ is something to ponder
on and appreciate.
Like most people, I guess, at times I get frustrated
and de-pressed, and wonder where I’m going;
sometimes, I cannot see the next step ahead of me,
and it seems like I’ve come to a dead end; sometimes,
when things are difficult, and there seem to be no
results ~ or I get results other than what I want
~ I wish I had never gotten into this line of things;
and sometimes, death would not be unwelcome ~ would
be a release. But whenever I feel like this, I turn
around and look back on the way by which I reached
the present. Do you think it was as straight as an
arrow? Of course it wasn’t, not for more than
a short distance at a time, but twisted and turned,
climbed and fell and sometimes even disap-peared below
ground, only to reappear elsewhere. Often, there were
obstacles, which, at the time, seemed insurmountable;
the road was often pitted with pot-holes of despair;
there was suffer-ing and sickness, lethargy and blues,
times when I was de-pressed and stuck in the doldrums,
and didn’t know what to do; there were times
when I was lonely and sad, times of danger and fear,
and times when the road ran near to madness and hell.
It is a miracle I survived, yet survive I did and
survive I do at the time of writing this, and usually,
I’m happy about this.
"Talk
sense to a fool and he calls you foolish."
~ Euripides
- Greek Dramatist, 480 - 406 B.C.E. ~
No-one can please
everyone. Abide by your principles, and if people
agree, so much the good; if they disagree, don't change
your mind just to suit them.
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