The Buddhist Who Says F*ck

YES, I SAY IT… DAILY. 🙄

I wrote this post some years ago and have always liked it. It perfectly sums up so many elements of my personality and life experience.

I’m not a big fan of the robes and rituals, elaborate ceremonies, or festivals associated with some Buddhist traditions.

My path is dedicated to a secular Buddhist practice that aims to help others eliminate suffering.

I’m also very free with my vocabulary, often using words that His Holiness the Dalai Lama probably wouldn’t ever say.

As a child of the 60s and 70s —the so-called Generations Jones— my lively vocabulary always bothered my parents, but it continues to serve me well in times of expressive need.

Total transparency: I say f*ck and sh*t several times each day, so much so that one might call them my mantra.

I’ve used these words for quite a while. There were times when I’d beat myself up for swearing in front of my youngest son, to whom I was a single parent. As a teen becoming immersed in the local, independent music scene in Santa Cruz, California, it wasn’t like he’d never heard anyone talk this way.

Still, I didn’t feel entirely right about it. After all, a parent is supposed to be a child’s role model, right?

Crap…probably f*cked that up, too.

For a while, I made a concerted effort to stem the flow of f*ck and sh*t. I wasn’t too bothered by uttering damn or even the occasional goddamnit as they were always exclamations that underscored a stupid mistake on my part most of the time.

My experience teaches me that language is only offensive when the listener interprets its meaning differently from the speaker's.

I’m a non-conformist, and just because something is PC or ‘within the mainstream of society’ (a phrase that begs us all to become mindless lemmings, in my opinion), that doesn’t mean much to me.

As a ZENish Buddhist, I live and interpret reality according to my experience. If my experience calls for the utterance of the occasional f*ck or sh*t, so be it.

Life goes on.

Appropriate Intention and Harsh Speech

In the Eightfold Path, the Buddha taught his followers to use speech skillfully, and in ways that don’t denigrate others or would be considered insulting.

Here’s how Noah Levine, writing in Against the Stream, described his use of harsh language:

Harsh speech has been my habit since an early age. I have always loved the shock value of swearing. Over the years, my vocabulary hasn’t changed much, but my intentions have changed a lot. I still swear quite a bit, but my use of fuck, shit, bitch, and balls serves more as an exclamation point to illustrate my sentiment than a sword to cause harm with. It is my feeling that swearing isn’t always harsh or malicious. Like everything else, it depends on the intention – in this case, our intention in using the language.”

My youngest son is now 28 and periodically uses the same language but is also a straight-edge, tattooed gentleman.

So, I guess I didn’t do such a bad job raising him. 😉

There is a vast intentional difference between calling a woman a bitch and joking about how your job is a bitch.

Calling someone a ‘f*ckwad’ is denigrating, but exclaiming, “WTF!” when you’ve inserted the wrong house key into the doorknob -for the third f*cking time- isn’t. 🤷🏼‍♂️

There Were No Sailors in My House

I don’t come from a long line of colorful linguists with tattoos and vocabularies like those of the proverbial sailor.

In fact, my mom and dad never used swear words in raising us, and they also never had any tattoos. But despite these apparent faults (kidding), they raised three adults who use language relatively freely.

Maybe it’s a generational thing, as my American generation embraced the freedom of expression painfully birthed in the 1960s.

Our language is a product of our intention, and if our purpose in swearing is to punctuate our expressions with emphasis and given the right social situation, I don’t see the harm.

Some traditionalists will undoubtedly differ in their opinions, but that’s OK.

Vive la f*cking différence!

ZENish - On Embracing Two Dharma Names

ONE BESTOWED, ONE ADOPTED

Regarding my Buddhist practice, I find it increasingly difficult to label it as aligned with any single tradition or school. Having been raised in the deep south (thank you, Dad, for moving us to California in 1970 💙) within a conservative Protestant denomination (LOL…, twice, I just typed demonization… 😆), I am no stranger to dogmatic thinking and enforced rule-following.

When I discovered Buddhism (about a decade after leaving the tribe) and started devouring dharma books from across its spectrum of traditions, I was drawn primarily to the Zen schools, Soto Zen specifically, perhaps due to its Japanese aesthetic, which appealed to my minimalist preferences. I also think it’s because I was deeply impacted by Shunryu Suzuki Roshi’s book, Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind; it knocked me over from an intellectual and spiritual perspective. It was also because the books that impacted me most in those first few years were written by Zen practitioners, especially from the Soto Zen school.

I’ll never forget reading Roshi Steve Hagen’s Buddhism Is Not What You Think and Buddhism Plain and Simple for the first time. The sheer elation of their discovery remains a very special memory, undoubtedly because of my beginner’s mind. Likewise, my first reading of Natalie Goldberg’s Writing Down the Bones, a writing and Zen study memoir, was equally transformative.

The title of this column/letter may foreshadow the reality that the only descriptor that is close to describing my practice is ZENish. I currently study under an excellent teacher, trained in the Thai Forest tradition of Ajahn Chah. Still, I am nourished by the teachings of a Soto Zen teacher in Portland, OR who offers a podcast that feeds my ZENish side. I still drop into her Tuesday evening Cloud Zendo on occasion. Most mornings I sit zazen with the San Francisco Zen Center online, and with my Theravada group via Zoom a bit later.

That Brings Me to the Topic of Dharma Names

Typically, a lay practitioner is given a Dharma name by a root teacher as a symbol of having committed to the Buddhist path, and usually, this occurs in a ceremony dedicated to this recognition.

Jigme - Fearless

In December of last year, after studying Tibetan Buddhism with Lodro Rinzler for a couple of years, I attended a virtual ceremony marking my taking the vows of refuge as a Buddhist. If there is a way of officially becoming a Buddhist, this is typically how one goes about it.

One takes refuge in the Buddha (his example of fully awakening in this life), in the Dharma (the teachings left behind by the Buddha and other Buddhist teachers), and in the Sangha (the community of Buddhists locally and around the world).

The photo above is of H.E. Dza Kelung Rinpoche, a Tibetan Dharma teacher based in Whidbey Island, WA, and the root teacher of Lodro Rinzler, one of my Dharma teachers - kindly taken by Lodro Rinzler at the moment Rinpoche gave me the Dharma name, Jigme (fearless).

I also completed a precepts course of study at Ocean Gate Zen Center in Capitola, CA before relocating to the Pacific Northwest in 2022. However, the next step was delayed due to extended COVID flares across California, and we didn’t begin sewing a rakusu (a bib-like garment that symbolizes the Buddha’s robes… see the image below) that completes the prerequisites before the Jukai ceremony where one is given two Japanese Dharma names by one’s teacher.

From Wikipedia: “The rakusu represents the garments the Buddha put together to wear after leaving his palace to seek enlightenment. According to Buddhist tradition, Siddhārtha left the palace where he was a prince and collected rags from trash heaps, funeral pyres, and various other places.[3] He then cleaned the rags by rubbing them in saffron, which gave his robes an orange-golden appearance.”

It’s important to note that neither a Dharma name nor sewing a rakusu is a requirement for pursuing the Buddhist path. They are each, when you think about it, nothing more than symbolic and traditional baubles, but they also take on a deeper meaning for some. However, for reasons I don’t thoroughly understand, both have become important to me at this juncture in my Buddhist journey.

In a way, I found myself astride the Hinayana and two Mahayana Buddhist traditions (now, there’s a visual) but only recognized by one. My morning meditation group is Theravada, and there is no formal sangha other than the online group. In my experience, it is a minimalist form of Buddhism as compared to the Zen and Tibetan traditions, that:

From Wikipedia: “aims to preserve the version of Gautama Buddha's teaching or Buddha Dhamma in the Pāli Canon...”

Rebel Scum

As I've mentioned, my heart resonates with Soto Zen, but I cannot embrace everything Soto Zen puts forth as essential for its followers. It is evidence of my nature as -many a Storm Trooper has phased it- rebel scum. 😎

There's Nothing to Attain

Practice isn’t about achieving anything, not even enlightenment

One of the most common misconceptions about Buddhist meditation is that it is a practice designed to seek and attain enlightenment. However, seeking anything, even a higher awareness, is another form of craving and attachment. The Buddha taught that both were sources of our dissatisfaction or suffering.

There is nothing to be attained in meditation practice.

1. There is no such thing as an empty mind

Emptying one’s mind isn’t possible. Our mind’s sole purpose is to help us survive; it accomplishes this by generating upwards of 50,000 thoughts daily. They arise in meditation; unless we engage with them (like a dog chasing a car), they will ultimately fall away. Labeling thoughts helps them dissipate. This is the nature of our sitting practice.

2. There is no enlightenment reward

Waking up is a daily moment-by-moment practice. There is no Santa moment when we’re rewarded with the shiny bauble of enlightenment from another dimension or a higher being. When we consider it carefully, seeking enlightenment is yet another form of attachment or clinging — wanting things to be different than they are. Our sitting meditation practice is a reward in itself.

3. Monks and teachers aren’t special

Hierarchies exist only in our minds. They’re constructs created by humans. In practice, there is no goal, striving, or attainment. There is only *being the present moment. To practice is to be enough. Monastics and lay teachers differ from practitioners in that they dedicate their lives to the path of practice and, in so doing, cultivate the wisdom they share with students. Buddhism holds teachers and monastics to a higher level of ethical conduct, but they are no different from you and me.

🙏🏼🩶

*The late Zen teacher Charlotte Joko Beck specifies in her book, Everyday Zen, that when we ‘are the present moment’ —and not occupying or seeking it, striving ceases.

The Delusion of 'I, Me, and My' ~ Why We are So 'Self' Centered

We talked about this common trap in last night's Weekly Meditation discussion.

Those in Monday evening’s meditation session discussed our fascination with the ‘I, Me, and My’ delusion.

I shared this:

Waking up fully is a daily moment-by-moment practice. There is no Santa moment when we’re rewarded with the shiny bauble of enlightenment from another dimension or a higher being. When we consider it carefully, seeking enlightenment is yet another form of attachment or clinging — wanting things to be different than they are.

We all want to awaken fully and experience enlightenment (when all suffering ceases). Because we’re conditioned from birth, at least in the West, to focus on our perceived identity (who I am, what I like, what I own, etc.), most of us assume ourselves to be distinct beings.

We use language such as:

• I want to be a better meditator. 🧘🏼‍♂️

• I want to become thinner, richer, and enlightened. 💬

• I want more money and a better job. 💰

• I want to be more loved. 👩🏽‍❤️‍👨🏼

• That car is mine. 🚗

• That toy isn’t yours. 🧸

We think of these self-centered thoughts all the time. We can’t help it… or can we?

It’s natural to seek a better life experience, but we are still clinging to a version of reality that’s different from what it is.

Yet birds do not seek the sky, and fish do not seek the water. 🕊️🐠

No, of course not.

However, becoming overly attached to any anticipated outcome that is different from what currently exists remains a form of clinging. The Buddha taught that clinging to what isn’t reality is the root of our suffering/dissatisfaction.

So, where does that leave us? What can we do about it?

Because our attachment-focused behavior is rooted in a false sense of an enduring “self,” we lapse into a communication style that uses “I, Me, and My” statements to describe what we want.

There is nothing inherently unwise about desiring to better one’s life experience. However, we can take care to notice how often we use these statements to reinforce this false identification.

A path forward

Last night, I challenged those present to start noticing how often their/our thoughts, statements, and actions are 'self-centered'. We’re not talking about self-centeredness in a selfish way, but how we self-identify as separate beings.

• “I need to make my bed.” 🛏️

• “I want butter chicken for my dinner tonight.” 😋

• “I want to become enlightened.” 💡💡

• “I deserve a better job.” 👷🏼‍♂️

Just notice when it happens. There is no need to judge or punish yourself for this—simply acknowledge it and move on. After all, some reference to ourselves is perfectly normal.

Noticing our self-centered thinking is one of the first steps to breaking our habituation of attachment and clinging, decreasing our suffering/dissatisfaction.

🙏🏼🩶

On Seeking Enlightenment…and Practice as a 24/7 Activity

Three Excerpts from Joko Beck’s ‘Everyday Zen,’ and some commentary.

I recall the first time I read a similar thought in one of Roshi Steve Hagen’s books that profoundly shaped my love for the Dharma and affinity with the Zen tradition. Just as birds do not seek the sky, and fish do not seek the water, all of our seeking is in vane.

My seeking behavior (even seeking enlightenment/full awakening) is another form of attachment to something outside of myself. The Buddha taught that I am already complete, and as Shunryu Suzuki Roshi characterized it, I still need a little improvement.

However, seeking awakening or enlightenment is the same as adding something else on top of what I already am. If I am complete already, then, as Charlotte Joko Beck writes, dropping my seeking behavior and all other forms of attachment, helps me uncover the enlightenment within.

Sitting zazen (sitting meditation) in order to achieve anything —inner peace, less stress, insights— is a fallacy. We may experience any or all of these when sitting, but it isn’t a transactional practice.

This is an important distinction — we sit not to achieve anything — but we sit as an act of rebellion against our habitual reactivity and confusion-prone thinking, and in dedication to opening up completely and finding what is deep within already.

My next tattoo will be these words: “life is practice, practice is life.”

For me, this perfectly summarizes my experience and what Joko Beck is urging in the excerpt above. Regardless of the traditions I follow or adopt (or blend), what I learn from my practice on the cushion shows up off the cushion every single day.

But, it’s not automatic. I must work to apply what I learn from my sitting to my everyday life experiences.

In my experience, when a driver distracted by a child or their phone cuts me off in traffic, when the person ahead of me in the grocery checkout line insists on reviewing the receipt before leaving, when the teenager who hurls an insult out of a passing car just because he can, etc., these are the situations that invite me to apply what I leaned from my formal practice to real life situations and experiences off the cushion.