A Zenny white Buddha image
On a Zenny white iMac
Makes me think of ‘iBuddha’
Of the Buddha I can be
A selfless one with no capital ‘i’

Related Article:
The Front View of ‘iBuddha’
http://moonpointer.com/new/2009/02/buddha-gentle-reminder

This is the first photo I snapped with my iPhone… with the protective film on. It looked nice enough to be set as wallpaper. How ironic, a common accidental effect that turned out good enough. It remind me of the cinematographic style of Wong Kar Wai’s ‘My Blueberry Nights’. While watching that film, I was thinking about his romanticism of lights, about how he’s skilful in using them to stir up semi-abstract warm and fuzzy feelings. I thought he overdid it a little.

But here I am, infected by the same romanticism? Guilty as charged. Now, what will be the last image on Wong’s mind while he passes away? Will it be a Blueberry Nights’ image, or another one from his other ‘mood-vies’? What’s more important is what I’ll be attached to? Will it be my favourite worldly wallpaper or the ‘salvific’ vision of Amitabha Buddha with his golden light? The first would keep me bound to Samsara while the other towards its exit. I’d better ensure it’ll be the latter!

I was looking through my old phone’s notes… a collection of words, most of which do not form complete sentences, semi-shorthand notes taken in a hurry to remind me of what to write later. But it was a ‘later’ largely to late, because, to my aghast, many of the notes are incoherent now. I can only guess what they were supposed to mean.

This seems like a parallel to how my life is led at times… learning in fragmented pieces unmindfully – which is a pity and a waste of time… leading to fragmented pieces of memory, that become further fragmented in time. Writing helps to piece it all together… before I forget totally. A wish is to be able to publish all the writings for posterity’s sake, for whatever they are worth.

In a future life, if my books are still available, may I stumble upon them and say – ‘Yes, the stuff in there reflects my thinking.’ I wouldn’t need to write them down again, or to relearn it all on my own. Then again, I would want to grow too, to not be attached to previous thinking, especially that which is deluded, imperfect. Perhaps more time should be spent studying the sutras instead of penning personal mental fermentations – because the impersonal yet universal truth is already reflected in the sutras.

Beliefs of a ‘Non-Believer’
http://buddhistchannel.tv/index.php?id=8,7674,0,0,1,0

As an unconventional Chinese New Year greeting, above is a simple calligraphic piece of ‘Samantabhadra Bodhisattva’s Admonition for the Masses’ (普贤菩萨警众偈) with a new translation below. I hope the strokes highlight a sense of fragility, transience, urgency, focus and determination, which are qualities mentioned in the verse.

是日已过，命亦随减；
如少水鱼，斯有何乐？
大众！
当勤精进,  如救头燃；
但念无常，慎勿放逸！

This day has just passed, and life has shortened accordingly;
Like fish with lesser water, what joy is there?
All!
Endeavour with diligence now, as if extinguishing a fire on your head;
Be mindful of impermanence, and beware of laxity!

From the story ‘The Maggies’ in ‘American Splendor’ by Harvey Pekar -

Harvey: (Detecting untruthfulness) When you talk about dishonest men, do you have to be dishonest?
Interviewee: (Shrugging) Why not? Even Socrates was dishonest…
Harvey: (Confronting) Socrates?? What does he have to do with it?
Interviewee: (As-a-matter-of-factly) Socrates said all men are dishonest, so even he was dishonest!
Harvey: (Frowning and thinking)…

That’s the problem with absolute generalisations, sweeping statements…
So was Socrates’ statement that all men are dishonest true?

It it was, does it make him an honest man?
It it does, does that make him dishonest that all men are dishonest?
It it does, is he really honest or dishonest?
So… are all men really honest or dishonest?

That was a trick question, that assumes all men have to be either honest or dishonest!
Some (wo)men are (dis)honest at times,
while some are (dis)honest most of the time,
while some are (dis)honest all of the time.
(Actually, the last seems like an impossible feat.)

There is only a trio of generalisations about the universe that are timelessly true
(The Three Universal Characteristics; the Three Marks of Existence) -

1. Anicca: Physical and mental phenomena are in constant change
2. Dukkha: Dissatisfactions arise when that of Anicca is clung to as non-Anicca, when that of Anatta is seen as non-Anatta.
3. Anatta: There is no substantial self-nature in phenomena subject to Anicca and Dukkha

Realise the above fully and one attains Nirvana,
that is non-Anicca (lasting) liberation from Dukkha; True Happiness.

I came across the following stories from the Theravada tradition relating how even animals can be reborn in the heavens. Here’s a a take with a more Mahayana flavour… Animals can also be born in Pure Land – which is a good reason to take care of them while exposing them to the Dharma. Perhaps one of the easiest ways to not harm animals is to not eat them. Here’s a true story of how a rooster was reborn in Pure Land. Thank goodness he was not killed or eaten before that: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Amituofo/message/76

[Some] Animals Go to [the] Heaven[s]

The Buddha teaching is unique amongst the world religions: it is not only for humans and gods; it is also for animals. There are numerous stories that relate how animals who associate with good humans or are well treated, go to heaven after they die.

The first example is that of the Bodhisattva’s HORSE Kanthaka. The Introduction to the Jataka Commentary (which is one of the earliest records we have of the Buddha’s early life) tells us how when the Bodhisattva Siddhattha renounces the world, his horse Kanthaka is so deeply saddened that he dies broken-hearted, but obviously with a wholesome last thought-moment. He is reborn as the deva Kanthaka in the heaven of the Thirty-three Gods (Sakra’s heaven).

The next famous animal story is found in the story of the Buddha’s solitary retreat in the Parileyya. The Vinaya (V 1:337-357) records how in the 10th year of the ministry, when a dispute arises amongst the monks of Kosambi who even tell the Buddha off when he tries to counsel them. After trying hard to reconcile them and failing, he quietly leaves for a solitary retreat in the Parileyya forest where he is attended by a like-minded ELEPHANT (he leaves his own tribe for the joy of solitude). Watching how the Buddha prepares warm water every morning the elephant Parileyyaka himself prepares it for the Buddha. He also offers the Buddha wild fruits and takes care of his robe and bowl.

Read more

The ‘Twilight’ or Dawn of Desire?
http://buddhistchannel.tv/index.php?id=12,7673,0,0,1,0

What if you have the power of great strength and speed, and are able to remain ever youthful? Sounds like invincible eternal life? Not really, as the vampires in the movie ‘Twilight’, like others, can die too – especially when slayed by other equally powerful vampires. What literally sucks about being a vampire is that you need blood to survive. The film doesn’t clearly depict that Edward, the teenage vampire protagonist, sees his raison d’etre to be. Apparently, he has gone to school so many times that he made a huge ‘artwork’ with his numerous graduation caps in jest. Does repeated schooling make him wiser? With a wider perspective of history, shouldn’t it make him much more enlightened? Looks like he missed Dharma education! The vampires in this story don’t need sleep too. Imagine the amount of time on hand! Why not simply enlighten oneself and help enlighten others best one can? There’s simply no nobler cause.

It is an unwritten rule for the vampires that they try to stay clear of the affairs of humans – lest their identities get disclosed. For the survival of their kind, they would even hesitate to save a human in need. Now, what is the point of living entirely for your own kind? With such great power at stake, it’s no wonder that some vampires fight one another. Seems like a perpetual demonic-bestial Asura-like existence. (Asuras are demi-gods who battle among themselves and with the gods for greater power.) However, while typical vampires relish human blood attained by murder, Edward’s family is what he erroneously calls ‘vegetarian’ – because they only drink animal blood. Trick question – are such vampires more ‘humanitarian’? Is being humane limited to humans? Or is the real test of humanitarianism how anyone relates to those weaker than themselves?

Edward’s clan run into conflict with another band of vampires, who are ruthless in their killing of humans, leading to a chase where they try to run from while hunting the other. This kind of reminds me of the frequent high tension between the activist causes of pro-vegetarians and pro-meat-eaters! The stance of the first is that meat isn’t necessary for food, while the latter believes its their unquestionable birthright, that animals are meant to be food. With a strong sense of what is right and what isn’t, Edward and company is forced to kill one of the wayward vampires who threaten to harm Bella (Edward’s human love interest), which would bring more needless attention to the discreet vampires, harming their reputation while endangering them. This is reminiscent of the X-Men impartially subduing fellow mutants in the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants!

Edward has the power to read minds, saying that money and sex are the items on most people’s minds. Look like he forgot to read his own mind deeply enough. He could not understand his attraction to Bella, how he never had much human bloodlust till he met her. Seems like a subtle imagery of the marriage of sex and violence here. However, Edward maintains his abstinence from taking her blood, while claiming he does not have the strength to stay away from her. While Edward keeps his temptations in check, Bella would rather he give in to his. This almost seems like a cheeky message on understanding the desires that drive teenage sex, while urging abstention!

Some say life has value only because there is death. Not always true – though impending death does make us treasure our lives more. Essentially, no one really dies (or is born) since there is rebirth – but life has to be lived in the here and now. Bella laments that she is ‘dying already’, from moment to moment, hinting of her anguish of impermanence. He replies that that’s the way it’s supposed to be. If so, why is he defying the universal law of impermanence? Then again, as in the opening paragraph, vampires don’t really live forever – if they are real! Bella craves eternal love and asks to be turned into a vampire by him. Edward asks, ‘Is it not enough just to have a long and happy life together?’ As long as unenlightened, what guarantee is there that eternal life with the beloved will result in eternal happiness? An ‘eternal’ love-hate relationship might persist instead! While Edward seems able to cope with the impermanence of his lover, Bella could not cope with the transience of hers. I guess such are the makings of intriguing love stories, that draw legions of fans, with their heavily samsaric dilemmas.

The Unseen ‘Ip Man’ Behind Bruce Lee?
http://buddhistchannel.tv/index.php?id=12,7663,0,0,1,0

The mild-mannered ‘Ip Man’ (pronounced ‘eep-mun’: Bruce Lee’s martial arts master) is a refreshing break from the typical genre of screen Kung Fu heroes. Come to think of it, Ip Man is in many ways the direct opposite of Bruce Lee’s famous brash screen personas. Then again, what we witness in the film ‘Ip Man’ is just another screen persona played by an actor too? Instead of being hot-headed or fantastically fancy in pugilistic moves, Ip Man is disarmingly humble. He is so unassuming during most of the featured fights that he almost takes the fight out of fighting. Yet, he who wins with minimal or even no violence is a true victor indeed. Unlike the norm of the day, when arrogant pugilists challenge one another to prove themselves, Ip Man even hesitates to take up challenges deemed unnecessary, often politely turning them down.

Ip Man earns much respect by giving respect – even to those who lose in sparring matches with him, who were not really respectful enough of him in the first place. He neither gloats about winning or condemns the losers. Because the losers realise that he had graciously and unconditionally given them much leeway and face, they are greatly humbled by his magnanimity. Buddhists would see Ip Man to be masterful with the practice of maintaining an ‘ordinary mind’ – the attitude that does not make a big deal out of the shifty worldly winds – whether they blow his way or others’. These winds are after all but winds of change, of alternating praise and blame, gain and loss, fame and shame, pain and pleasure. A true hero must not just be a physical one – he must be a spiritual victor too. Even a gracious loser ultimately ‘defeats’ an arrogant ‘winner’!

The arrogant is always haughty too soon – though there is never really a good time to be haughty. The winner of a prize is not always the winner of peace! Arrogance is a defilement that invites enemies who might be haughtier than oneself! It also humiliates the losers, readily transforming them into potential enemies. Such is the trouble with being obsessed with dualistic victory and defeat – on both sides. The Buddha couldn’t have put it any better when he warned thus in the Dhammapada – ‘Victory begets enmity. The defeated dwell in pain. Happily the peaceful live, discarding both victory and defeat.‘ Even if it is not possible to totally discard all forms of victory and defeat in this competitive world, one should train to be able to win while winning any cockiness in oneself, to lose without losing confidence in oneself. Even if the world competes with you, one need not compete with it. Any gains or losses are just impermanent and unsubstantial by-products.

Facing guns held by an oppressive regime, what good can a martial artist do with his skills? How can he fight for justice? By not doing it alone if he can help it – but by inspiring the masses to stand up together. The odds will always be against the lone hero – but real heroes are the ones able to urge more to be heroic. In his war-torn homeland, Ip Man trains the ones he could to at least be able to defend themselves. How obsolete, one might think, martial arts are, in the face of guns. Then again, doesn’t it offer the most fundamental physical defense? How can this skill ever be outdated? The enemies are not always armed too, while a good martial artist can disarm the armed! Anyway, martial arts are commonly practised as a form of discipline, exercise and art. When taught with honourable ethics, they can be a skilful means of imparting spirituality too. Just think Buddhism-inspired Shaolin Kung Fu.

The movie however, does show a scene where Ip Man becomes wrathful during sparring sessions with soldiers of the enemy – when he realised how his fellow countrymen were unjustly sacrificed. Nationalistic pride can be dangerous – both for the antagonists and the antagonised. One has to be mindful not to let personal pride well up collectively with others’ to become explosive nationalistic pride. Ironically, while countries can go to war due to such pride, wars can also be ceased by them – though at a price. Is it alright to be wrathful when we encounter great injustice, when much is at stake? It is – only when it is a skilful manifestation of wrath without genuine rage. With real anger, one would be the first engulfed by its fire. Provoked by the heat of the moment, what we do in such rashness is unlikely to be wise or beneficial. In a showdown duel with the main enemy, Ip Man pulls back his possibly fatal coup de grace when he realises this. Not becoming ruthless like the enemy, he remains the hero. As taught by the Buddha, also in the Dhammapada, ‘Greater than one who wins a hundred battles, is one who conquers oneself.’

Related Article:
A ‘Fearless’ Lesson on True Victory (Huo Yuanjia)
http://buddhistchannel.tv/index.php?id=12,2359,0,0,1,0

From ‘Chandni Chowk To China’, Delusion to Realisation
http://buddhistchannel.tv/index.php?id=12,7665,0,0,1,0

In the first Bollywood-Hollywood action-comedy ‘Chandni Chowk To China’, an Indian cook (Sidhu) who was disgruntled by his humdrum life sought hope in the possibility that he might have had an remarkable previous life, one which he would be able to magically relive, to chase his existential blues away. He visits one fortune-teller after another, none of whom gave him the good news he expected. Just when his father reminded him that destiny was not in the lines of his hand, but in the hard work he does confidently with his hands, he stumbles upon a potato that very vaguely resembled a god he believed in. Placing his hopes upon his ‘holy’ potato, he continues to pray for a miracle.

A Buddhist master once commented that even if one believes in palmistry, the forces of change, as according to what one presently does or neglects to do has the karmic power to alter any ‘preset map’ of destiny. He even said that the fortunes of great spiritual practitioners cannot be accurately foretold – due to the astounding ways they keep altering their probable ‘futures’ with the creation of immeasurably great positive karma. If one believes that the lines on one’s palms chart destiny, that they can change in time, these changes simply cannot keep up with the speed at which good practitioners keep altering their destinies for the better!

The scenes portraying Sidhu’s pointless attachment to his ‘potato god’, which draws a crowd of willing believers are hilarious, hinting of how many seem to misplace their faith in arbitrary or even imaginary gods. In the movie ‘A Better Tomorrow’, there is a scene where the hero exclaims that he believes in God, that one who is able to control one’s own destiny is God. A rather good definition I would say. Like it or not, as a believer of a God or many gods or not, we have no choice but to play God in our lives, for our lives. Sidhu’s father reminds him that God only helps those who help themselves, which further suggests how arbitrary our faith in others can be without healthy self-confidence and personal efforts.

Also of arbitrary importance is one’s identity in one’s previous lives – since one is no longer totally the same as that person. In Tibetan (Vajrayana) Buddhism, even young children recognised to be the incarnations of well-accomplished masters (Tulkus) have to undergo complete and systematic (re-)education to swiftly refresh their memories of the Dharma teachings learnt in the past! Without doing so, devotees (or even the Tulkus themselves) might not be sufficiently confident of their spiritual prowess. Incidentally, throughout the film, there are scenes with Buddha images in the background as ‘extras’, smiling in a calm or perhaps even amused manner!

Sidhu was thought to be the incarnation of a great Chinese hero who once saved a village, and was invited to ‘return’, to save it from a tyrannical gang that came to terrorise it. After a string of misadventures, Sidhu realises that he was no great hero – unless he chose to be one and worked hard it, that it didn’t really matter if he was a mosquito or a hero in the past. What mattered was to conscientiously do the right thing in the here and now. So truly arbitrary was Sidhu’s previous life that there was no conclusion as to whether he really was a great hero in the past. That crucial was that he became a true hero in his present life!

Sidhu’s martial arts master taught him a ‘Shaolin saying’ – ‘Fear not a thousand moves practised once; fear one move practised a thousand times.’ That single invincible unmatchable Kung Fu technique would be a well-trained skill that is properly harnessed. On this, Sidhu has a sudden realisation while fighting the key antagonist, that his unique Kung Fu was in the deft moves he utilised day in and day out as a cook – that have become his second nature. Anyway, ‘Kung Fu’ is a generic Chinese term for any well mastered skill – including culinary skills! Where’s the Dharma lesson in this? If we are to practise the Dharma well in this lifetime, chances are, we will be able to practise it better in the next, if we are not yet liberated. With adequate practice that makes perfect, our spirituality in terms of compassion and wisdom will render us invincible when our Buddha-nature is realised not just as our second nature, but our first and foremost original nature!

The Ponyo Paradox of Change & Acceptance
(Review of ‘Ponyo on the Cliff by the Sea’)
http://buddhistchannel.tv/index.php?id=12,7664,0,0,1,0

The Japanese animation feature ‘Ponyo on the Cliff by the Sea’ is a creative ‘retelling’ of ‘The Little Mermaid’ minus the tragedy of loss. It is largely an uplifting story on the universal themes of love, sacrifice, acceptance and change. The boy Sosuke rescues Ponyo, a small mermaid of sorts, though he doesn’t release her back into the sea immediately, which hints of childish infatuation with a new-found pet. Questions of whether domestication is the saving or trapping of animals comes to mind. Is domestication the path of natural or forced evolution? Does the security of a ‘prison’ protect or harm? Does love necessarily set the beloved free?

The issue of pollution runs as a background theme in the film. Ponyo was first trapped when she got stuck in a jar, while a ship was dredging the seabed for heaps of rubbish. Her father comments that humans’ very breath is poison, that they have robbed the sea of life, that interaction with humans taints their genes. While he represents the strict conservative parent, he is also an ocean conservationist, who warns against the ills of humans. However, the line he drew between ocean and human life is one that is too long and broad. His wife, a sea goddess, is the more liberal and understanding one, who mediates to reconcile conflict instead.

A supposedly superstitious old lady expresses shock when she sees the human-faced Ponyo in a pail, exclaiming that the ‘fish’ is a harbinger of bad luck, a probable omen of an oncoming tsunami. An interesting thought came to mind – what if all ocean lifeforms have human faces? Would Japanese, whom in general love seafood so much hesitate to eat them? Would there be more ‘positive’ fear of enraging the forces of nature? Incidentally, all the major fishing seas in the world are already over-fished, on the verge of, if not already, in environmental collapse. (Later, Ponyo’s second departure from the sea does cause a near-tsunami of sorts.)

Ponyo has a number of positive traits. She can heal, though she does it only once, and upsize stuff. Being the titular character, she’s ‘designed’ to be cutesy, cheery, generous and innocent. Then again, it’s hard to qualify innocence as a definite positive trait; it’s more of a neutral one, as she literally caused a dangerous storm due to her reckless attachment to Sosuke. Ponyo has a number of negative traits too. She is fussy over food, throws tantrums, hyperactive and causes needless worry for her parents. Sosoke on the other hand, seems more lovable, though Ponyo easily steals the show with her antics. Sosuke is sensible, responsible, protective and conciliatory between his parents. In this sense, he is Ponyo’s opposite. Hmmm… If we love someone for seemingly complementary qualities missing in ourselves, do we really love more of ourselves or the other?

It’s easy to see why Ponyo loves Sosuke – for his selfless compassion, for being her ‘personal Bodhisattva’ (though true Bodhisattvas have universal compassion), even if in a kiddy way, while it is more of a mystery why Sosuke loves Ponyo. It is portrayed such that he doesn’t seem totally sure either. Does Sosuke love Ponyo as a pet or a person? Or both, or as one who can transform to-and-fro from one to the other? Or does he love the changes themselves? What kind of love is his? Is it protective brotherly love for a little sister? Is it the love of friendship? Is it romantic love? (But aren’t they too young to be lovers?) Is it purely altruistic spiritual love? Or perhaps it’s purposely portrayed as a jumbled and open-ended mix of all the above – as in the case of the kind of shapeshifting love we have at times?

The ultimatum that Sosuke and Ponyo faced was that if Sosuke accepts her as she is out of True Love, she would transform into a human girl forever, while losing her powers. It’s a test of the ability to sacrifice out of love too. If Sosuke’s love wasn’t true, she would turn to foam. (Of course, in real life, it isn’t so straightforward or risky to prove love!) If Ponyo was a Bodhisattva with True Love for all, would she relinquish her healing power just to be with one person? Would it not be ‘selfish’? Then again, she has no obligations to sacrifice for all if she isn’t ready, while her willingness to risk love for Sosuke might be part of her path towards cultivating Bodhisattva love.

There’s an intriguing paradox here… Sosuke was challenged to accept Ponyo as she is – a mermaid. However, if he did, she would become a non-mermaid (a human)! How then, is he supposed to accept her as a mermaid, without accepting her as a non-mermaid too? And don’t all people (other than the fully enlightened) constantly change? If so, how can we really accept ‘one’ unchanging person for all time? The truth is, the test of True Love is in the ability to accept not just the beloved as they are in the moment, but who they might change to be in time to come – for better or worse. If we are able to love despite changes in the beloved, would that not make us more likely to unconditionally love every being, since everyone changes as well? This is probably how our limited love can evolve to be the immeasurable love (loving-kindness, compassion, rejoice and equanimity) that Bodhisattvas have for all!

Bing: Why is there paint over forgotten masking tape on this wall?
Ding: The renovation guy must had been sloppy… not having checked properly.
Bing: Or maybe we were the sloppy ones… for not having checked his work properly.
Ding: Guess all of us were sloppy!

Who is kinder?
The one responsible only for oneself
or the one who feels responsible for all?
Who is wiser?

Customer: Two cold barley (drinks).
Staff: Barley – hot or cold?
Customer: Cold.
Staff: One?
Customer: Two.

I had the above dialogue thrice already, with the same service staff, at the same eating place, on different occasions. It’s rather amazing to me how she never seems to learn that I always give a short but clear and complete order, while it is her mindfulness that is unclear and incomplete. All she had to do was to pay a little more attention. It’s as if her mindfulness is selective, focusing only on the word ‘barley’ while not registering the other two words. Lacking mindfulness, she doesn’t realise this, and the same dialogue is thus ‘reborn’ repeatedly.

I’ve encountered quite a few other service staff who exhibit the same problem. It seems to arise from their unmindful attachment to how an order should be given and received – even when situations are otherwise. They want to hear what is the item ordered first, before hearing how the item should be (e.g. hot or cold) or how many of it are wanted (e.g. one or two). As such, they tend to listen only for the name of the item first, while mentally blocking out any other information, even if it’s useful.

This is essentially not a complaint about bad service – but more of a ‘cautionary tale’ of how our minds are able to habitually filter out relevant information at times. What’s scary is that this can happen ‘unknowingly’. It’s also amazing to me how some long-time Buddhists are able to continually ignore important though slightly more ‘inconvenient’ aspects of the Dharma in practice, be it intentionally or unmindfully. Surely, we are sometimes similar – because if our mindfulness is already perfectly clear and complete, we would be perfectly enlightened already!

Many are against animal-testing.
But not many are against animal-tasting.

How ironic!