The Path of Enlightenment

Mistaking Arrogance for Confidence Part Two

Arrogance is insecurity; confidence is peace of mind

 

The difference between arrogance and confidence also shows in our emotional state. Arrogance makes us insecure whereas confidence gives us peace of mind. The more arrogant we become, the more keenly we feel the dependence of our happiness upon the misfortune and weakness of others. This ironic dependence makes the seeming confidence of the arrogant increasingly insecure. The more they bolster this false self-confidence on the outside, the less secure they become inside; so the ‘happiness’ of the arrogant is self-consuming.

Arrogance is needy; confidence is free

As mentioned earlier, confident people are deeply aware that they derive their confidence from strengthening their innate qualities and need not depend on others. So the more confident people are, the more peaceful they will be with both themselves and others. Even in disagreement or when pointing out the errors of others, confident people can remain calm and open-minded. Since they need not defend their self-worth by ‘winning’ in the argument, confident people can stay focused on the merits of different views and opinions without becoming hurtful toward others.

Nichiren Daishonin, for example, wrote from exile, “Whatever obstacles I might encounter, so long as persons of wisdom do not prove my teachings to be false, I will never yield!” (The Writings of Nichiren Daishonin, p. 280). His vow to be steadfast in his belief comes with the condition—“so long as persons of wisdom do not prove my teachings to be false.” This was an expression of the unruffled openness of the confident, not of the blind obstinacy of the arrogant.

Think about how people behave at work. Unlike an arrogant manager who takes any suggestion as a personal criticism and everyone in the office as a potential threat, a confident manager takes even personal criticism as an opportunity for self-reflection and further improvement. The inner state of an arrogant person is constantly agitated, waiting for any opportunity to assert a sense of superiority. But the inner state of a confident person absorbs even an untoward event like a pebble tossed into a bathtub, as opposed to a wineglass.

As it is clear now, arrogance is not “too much” confidence. The essential difference between arrogance and confidence is not one of quantity or degree, but of quality and origin. Arrogance is needy and dependent on others, derived from comparison with the external. Confidence is free and independent of others, found and cultivated in the self.

‘Absolute superiority’ is a dangerous illusion

Mistaking arrogance for confidence distorts our view of humanity—the way we relate to others and ourselves. Such misconception spells out only tragic suffering for individuals and society. Long before his rise to power, Adolf Hitler wrote: “Self-confidence must be inculcated in the young national comrade from childhood on. His whole education and training must be so ordered as to give him the conviction that he is absolutely superior to others” (Mein Kampf, trans. Ralph Manheim, p. 411).

The epitome of arrogance, Hitler mistook the illusion of “absolute superiority” as supreme confidence. He debased education, turning it from a vehicle of equality and happiness into a cogwheel in the evil machinery of discrimination and destruction. Education must teach confidence, not arrogance. Likewise, Buddhist learning is to strengthen our faith in the inherent Buddha nature of others and ourselves, not to promote elitism among believers.

Nichiren Daishonin was well aware of the danger of judging one’s self-worth through comparison with others. The Daishonin, therefore, admonished his disciples: “When you look at those of superior capacity, do not disparage yourself. The Buddha’s true intention was that no one, even those of inferior capacity, be denied enlightenment. Conversely, when you compare yourself with persons of inferior capacity, do not be arrogant and overproud. Even persons of superior capacity may be excluded from enlightenment if they do not devote themselves wholeheartedly” (WND, 62).

Here the Daishonin explains that one’s potential for enlightenment is in no way diminished by one’s capacity to understand Buddhism since all people are equally endowed with supreme Buddhahood. What is most important for our happiness is to believe in this intrinsic potential shared by all people. Our tendency to compare our capacity with that of others will only lead us astray from genuine happiness.

Nichiren Daishonin, therefore, urges us to win over our arrogance in order to enjoy authentic happiness: “Now, if you wish to attain Buddhahood, you have only to lower the banner of your arrogance, cast aside the staff of your anger, and devote yourself exclusively to the one vehicle of the Lotus Sutra” (WND, 58–59). Here the Daishonin indicates the close relationship between arrogance and anger. T’ien-t’ai, a 6th-century Chinese Buddhist scholar, described those in the state of anger as “always desiring to be superior to others” (Gosho Zenshu, p. 430). Anger is akin to arrogance; it may be described as frustrated arrogance.

As the Daishonin suggests here, we can overcome our deep-seated arrogance and anger through our devotion to the “one vehicle of the Lotus Sutra”—that is, the teaching of the universality of Buddhahood and its essential practice as chanting Nam-myoho-renge-kyo. As we deepen our confidence in our own Buddhahood and this selfsame potential of others, the need to compare ourselves with others will diminish, and we will be free to appreciate and enjoy lives of our own making.

(Originally published in the World Tribune, March 14, 2003)

The Object of Devotion

By Shin Yatomi SGI-USA Vice Study Department Leader

The following essay was presented at the SGI-USA Study Department conference held at the Florida Nature and Culture Center on April 21-23, 2000.

One of the most debated issues regarding any religious object is whether it is sacred or represents the sacred. Put another way, is it an actual embodiment or symbol of what is to be revered in worship? Those questions about the nature of religious objects have played no small part in the history of religion.

The Iconoclastic Controversy in which Christians debated the merits of religious icons is considered the last step toward the great schism between the Roman Catholic Church and the Greek Orthodox Church in 1054.1 The interpretation of the Eucharist—the consecrated bread and wine used in Holy Communion—has been another source of doctrinal disputes in the Christian Church since the earlier Middle Ages, especially during the Reformation period. At the thirteenth session of the Council of Trent held in 1551, the Roman Catholic Church reaffirmed its doctrine of transubstantiation, asserting the conversion of the whole substance of the bread and wine into the whole substance of the Body and Blood of Christ, only the appearances of the bread and wine remaining after the consecration.2

The Protestants opposed this view. For example, Martin Luther claimed that after the consecration, the substances both of the Body and Blood of Christ and of the bread and wine coexist in union with each other.3 Ulrich Zwingli, on the other hand, affirmed that the Lord's Supper was primarily a memorial rite, and that there was no change in the elements whatever.4

As evident in the history of Christianity, religious objects often trigger tension and anxiety for those who think that the divine is beyond material expression. At the same time, people tend to seek something tangible as an object or expression of their devotion. Some people regard a sign of the divine as the divine itself while others reduce the significance of a sacred object to a ritual symbol devoid of its own spirituality. The nature of a religious object, in this way, is often at the center of theological debate and confusion in many religions.

Is the Gohonzon a Symbol or the Embodiment?

In the case of Nichiren Daishonin's Buddhism, its object of devotion works as both symbol and embodiment. When people look at the Gohonzon5 for the first time, what do they see? What do they make of it' It is a scroll with unfamiliar inscriptions, but is it a religious icon or sacred formula? Whatever their reaction, it is difficult not to notice oriental calligraphic characters arranged in a specific pattern— though most have no idea what those characters mean or why they are arranged that way. As our first impressions of things often reveal some important insights into their nature, what most of us first notice about the appearance of the Gohonzon, that is, its written characters and their graphic arrangement, provides us with some clues to Nichiren Daishonin's intent in creating this object of devotion.

In one sense, the Gohonzon represents the Daishonin's enlightenment and, thereby, our innate Buddha nature. The Gohonzon is a symbol of all people's potential Buddhahood; it signifies something other than itself. This is why the Daishonin explains to his elderly disciple Abutsu-bo the meaning of his offerings to the Gohonzon—which is referred to as “the treasure tower”—as follows: “You may think you offered gifts to the treasure tower of the Thus Come One Many Treasures,6 but that is not so. You offered them to yourself. You, yourself, are a Thus Come One who is originally enlightened and endowed with the three bodies.7 You should chant Nam-myoho-renge-kyo with this conviction” (The Writings of Nichiren Daishonin, pp. 299-300). Here the Daishonin explains that when we pray to the Gohonzon, the Gohonzon is pointing our attention to our own innate Buddha nature. The Gohonzon reflects our reverence back to our supreme inner potential. In this sense, the Gohonzon functions as a pointer to our Buddhahood; it is a symbolic representation. In the above passage, therefore, the Daishonin cautions us not to mistake the sign for the signified, which would externalize and objectify the Buddhahood that actually resides within us.

From another perspective, however, the Gohonzon functions as an embodiment of the Daishonin's enlightenment. The Gohonzon is not intrinsically a self-conscious, living entity embodying the Daishonin's enlightenment, but it functions in our practice as if it were. The Daishonin explains: “I, Nichiren, have inscribed my life in sumi ink, so believe in the Gohonzon with your whole heart. The Buddha's will is the Lotus Sutra, but the soul of Nichiren is nothing other than Nam-myoho-renge-kyo” (WND, 412). When we put our faith in the Gohonzon and pray to it in the spirit of this passage, the Gohonzon transforms itself from mere paper and ink into a concrete manifestation of the Daishonin's enlightenment in the reality of our consciousness. The Gohonzon thus works as an external stimulus that calls forth our inner potential of Buddhahood. On one hand, we know that the Gohonzon is a symbolic representation of our Buddha nature. In our practice, on the other hand, we pray to it as if it were the actual embodiment of the Daishonin's enlightened life so that we may gain confidence that the selfsame nature exists within our lives as well. Viewing the Gohonzon as the embodiment of the Daishonin's enlightenment is not simplistic make-believe, although the Gohonzon physically remains as paper and ink; it is the affirmation of our faith in the Daishonin's enlightenment and in our own enlightened potential. The Gohonzon, in a sense, serves on behalf of the absent Daishonin as a concrete example of attaining enlightenment.

The Gohonzon, in this way, helps our practice as both symbol and embodiment of Buddhahood. It must be noted, however, that the Gohonzon as an embodiment of enlightenment should not be taken to mean the mysterious presence of the divine in the inanimate object. The Gohonzon becomes an embodiment of Buddhahood through our faith and practice. In other words, the importance of the Gohonzon as the embodiment of the Daishonin's enlightenment is meaningful and real only to the extent that practitioners pray to it with faith and view it as an example to follow, not as an external saving force. The meaning of the Gohonzon as intended by the Daishonin, in this sense, is created through a dynamic interaction between the object of devotion and its devotee. The significance of the Gohonzon, therefore, would be incomplete without the practitioner's faith and practice.

The Treasure Tower: the Imagery of the Gohonzon

The design of the Gohonzon dates back to the origin of Mahayana Buddhism, which took shape around the turn of the first century in India. In reaction to monastic Buddhism, which emphasized personal salvation through austerities, Mahayana Buddhists stressed the importance of altruism and the role of lay practitioners (i.e., bodhisattvas) to spread the teachings. The Mahayanists called their doctrine “Mahayana” or “the greater vehicle” to carry the masses to the shore of enlightenment while referring to monastic Buddhism as “Hinayana” or “the lesser vehicle.” The popular Mahayana movement developed around the worship of stupas—mounds or towers originally built to enshrine Shakyamuni's relics. After Shakyamuni's death, which is dated by many scholars around the fourth or fifth century before the Common Era, his lay followers started to build these stupas, especially during the reign of King Ashoka (268-232 BCE), who was the third ruler of the Maurya dynasty and the first king to unify India. Many lay followers gathered around the stupas and paid homage to the Buddha, who was now absent.

The popularity of stupa worship is evident in the central role of the jeweled tower in the Lotus Sutra, one of the early Mahayana sutras, which is thought to have been compiled around the first century.8 The Daishonin used the stupa or “treasure tower” from the Lotus Sutra as a chief graphic motif for inscribing the Gohonzon. Down the center of the Gohonzon is written “Nam-myoho-renge-kyo Nichiren,” which signifies his awakening to the universal law of Nam-myoho-renge-kyo or Buddhahood. As he explains, “The treasure tower is Nam-myoho-renge-kyo” (WND, 299), the Daishonin views the treasure tower depicted in the Lotus Sutra as symbolic of the Buddha nature inherent within the lives of all people. Thus he addresses one of his disciples as follows: “Abutsu-bo is therefore the treasure tower itself, and the treasure tower is Abutsu-bo himself” (WND, 299).

The inscriptions on both sides of “Nam-myoho-renge-kyo Nichiren” on the Gohonzon depict the assembly of various living beings who gather around the treasure tower to listen to Shakyamuni's preaching as described in the Lotus Sutra. Some of them are not even humans, such as the dragon king's daughter who demonstrates her enlightenment. The diversity of this so-called Assembly in the Air in the Lotus Sutra reflects the nature of the early stupa worship, which was not limited to the elite priestly class but was open to people from all walks of life. These inscriptions on the Gohonzon represent the ten states of existence (i.e., the Ten Worlds): intense suffering and despair (Hell); insatiable desires (Hunger); selfish foolishness (Animality); arrogance and belligerence (Anger); transient calmness (Humanity); intense yet temporary rapture (Heaven); self-improvement (Learning); self-awakening to the partial truths of nature and humanity (Realization); altruism (Bodhisattva); and the indestructible state of happiness rooted in compassion and wisdom (Buddhahood). The Gohonzon graphically shows that each of these ten states of existence—when firmly grounded in the law of Nam-myoho-renge-kyo—exhibits its most positive functions to nurture one's life and happiness. For example, although we may find ourselves in the state of Hell, through our prayer to the Gohonzon, we can transform our intense suffering and despair into a source of strength and hope to overcome our difficulties. Incidentally, some ritual aspects involving our practice to the Gohonzon may be reminiscent of the stupa worship of the early Mahayana Buddhists. For example, the sounding of the bell may derive from the offerings of music often performed in front of a stupa. Other offerings to the Gohonzon may also be traced backed to early stupa worship, such as the offerings of flowers and incense as depicted in the Lotus Sutra.

Words and Imagery: Subjective Universality

The mode of expression that the Daishonin chose for the imagery of the treasure tower is unique. He depicted the treasure tower and the surrounding assembly of various beings in written characters. While there are examples of pictorial depictions of the treasure tower or calligraphic religious objects that predate the Gohonzon,9 the Daishonin's imagery of the treasure tower depicted solely in written characters was rare if not unprecedented. His use of graphic characters follows the emphasis placed on scriptures in the Buddhist tradition .After Shakyamuni's death, stupas containing Shakyamuni's relics became objects of veneration among lay practitioners. Soon the pictorial and sculptural images of Shakyamuni and other imagined Buddhas, as well as bodhisattvas and Buddhist deities, were produced as religious icons. Furthermore, especially within the Mahayana tradition, greater emphasis was placed on scriptures, even to the point where people literally worshiped the scrolls of Buddhist texts. For example, in medieval India, the Wisdom (Skt Prajnaparamita) sutras became the objects of devotion among many Mahayana Buddhists.10 Regarding the religious importance of scriptures within the Mahayana tradition, Jacob N. Kinnard comments: “Relics and stupas are certainly worthy of veneration…but the book is more valuable and more valued, because the book is the source of the Tathagata's wisdom, and consequently the source of his attainment of enlightenment, and thus the source of the value of the relics.”11

The Daishonin also often stresses the important role of written materials, particularly the Lotus Sutra. For example, he states: “The Lotus Sutra is both the teaching of the Buddha and the embodiment of the Buddha wisdom. If one puts sincere faith in each character and brushstroke in it, then one will become a Buddha in one's present form” (WND, 969). In refuting medieval Zen Buddhism, which rejected the role of Buddhist scriptures, the Daishonin states: “If one disregards written characters, what else could one regard as the Buddha's work?” (Gosho Zenshu, p. 153). He also writes: “Characters are the forms that manifest the minds of all living beings” (GZ, 380).

The Daishonin's use of written characters as a medium for the Gohonzon reflects his strong belief in the role of written materials in communicating not only the material reality of things, but also the spiritual reality of humanity. The Daishonin's use of the treasure tower's imagery as a graphic motif for the Gohonzon and his use of written characters as a medium of expression show his profound insight into the nature of religious worship. He seems to have understood how an image and a written text speak differently to our minds. In inscribing the Gohonzon as an image expressed in characters, the Daishonin unifies the specificity of a graphic image with the universality of written characters to convey the reality of the Buddha nature that is unique to each person and simultaneously universal to all people. The subjective yet universal aspect of the Buddha nature is at the core of the Daishonin's teaching, which promotes our awareness of the supreme potential not only in our lives but in the lives of others as well.

The Gohonzon is concrete in the sense that it depicts a specific image. But it is not a pictorial image of the treasure tower, Shakyamuni or Nichiren Daishonin himself. If the Gohonzon took such a form, it would be easy to view the Gohonzon as a depiction of someone else's life or an event far removed from our lives. If the Gohonzon were rendered as the Daishonin's image, for example, we might respect it, but we would not identify with it. For we simply don't look like a thirteenth-century Japanese monk! The Daishonin instead created the Gohonzon in characters to depict the specific imagery of the treasure tower from the Lotus Sutra, which symbolizes our innate Buddhahood. Written characters are suited to express universal concepts. But they are often abstract and lack a sense of immediacy. Images, on the other hand, are better suited to elicit personal responses from their viewers because they are more immediate to our senses. The Gohonzon, in terms of its graphic motif and calligraphic medium, is a hybrid of written and visual communication. Judging from the way the Daishonin chose to inscribe the Gohonzon, he probably intended it to communicate both conceptually and sensuously to our minds the universality of the Buddha nature and its immediacy to our lives.

Jean Paul Friedrich Richter, a German literary critic, explains the subjective yet universal nature of poetry as follows: “Poetry should become like the moon, which by night follows one wanderer in the woods from peak to peak and at the same time another from wave to wave and thus attends each, while it simply describes its great arc across heaven and yet ultimately draws it around the earth and around the wanderers also.”12

Richter's analogy of the moon is fit to describe the functions of the Gohonzon. The Gohonzon illuminates the existence of Buddhahood for each practitioner. At the same time, the Gohonzon traces the orbit of enlightenment for all people to see. The Gohonzon—like the moon individually following all travelers on earth—sheds light on the innate Buddhahood in each of us.

The Daishonin's intent to make the Gohonzon's meaning universal to all people is also evident in the linguistic and cultural aspects of the Gohonzon. He used the words and personages of India, China and Japan to depict the Gohonzon.13

Two Buddhist deities are inscribed in a medieval Sanskrit orthography; Great Bodhisattva Hachiman comes from Japanese mythology, and there is the Great Teacher T'ien-t'ai, who established the Lotus Sutra's supremacy in medieval China. In medieval Japan, those three countries were viewed as the entirety of the civilized world. In other words, the Daishonin probably wished to make the Gohonzon universal in its language and content as well.

Some of the physical features of the Gohonzon suggest the Daishonin's minute considerations to make the object of devotion suited to the message that it carries to each and all practitioners: the personal yet universal reality of the Buddha nature. Of course, what is most important in our practice is the act of chanting Nam-myoho-renge-kyo to the Gohonzon. The seemingly minor details of the Gohonzon, however, sometimes reveal much about the Daishonin's wisdom and compassion. The goal of this article is that knowing those details may help us become more aware of the Daishonin's intent behind his inscription of the Gohonzon and thereby pray more strongly and confidently.
1. The Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church. 3rd edition. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997. “Iconoclastic Controversy,” pp. 815-16.
2. Ibid. “Eucharist,” p. 567; “Transubstantiation,” p. 1637.
3. Ibid. “Consubstantiation,” p. 408.
4. Ibid. “Eucharist,” p. 567.
5. The object of devotion in Nichiren Daishonin's Buddhism is called the Gohonzon. “Go” is an honorific prefix, and “honzon” means an object of fundamental respect.
6. Many Treasures is a Buddha who appeared, seated within the treasure tower at the Ceremony in the Air, in order to lend credence to Shakyamuni's teachings in the Lotus Sutra.
7. Three kinds of body that a Buddha possesses, namely: (1) the Dharma body, which indicates the fundamental truth or Law to which a Buddha is enlightened; (2) the reward body, which indicates the wisdom; and (3) the manifested body, or the merciful actions of a Buddha to save people and the physical form that he assumes for that purpose. The three bodies are generally considered to be three different types of Buddhas, but in the Lotus Sutra they are shown to be the three aspects of a single Buddha (“Glossary, ”WND, 1275).
8.Nakamura, Hajime. Indian Buddhism: A Survey with Bibliographical Notes. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass Publishers, 1989. p. 186.
9. Stone, Jacqueline I. Original Enlightenment and the Transformation of Medieval Japanese Buddhism. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1999. pp. 272-88.
10. Kinnard, Jacob N. Imaging Wisdom: Seeing and Knowing in the Art of Indian Buddhism. Surrey: Curzon Press, 1999. pp. 114-47.
11. Ibid. p. 119.
12. Richter, Jean Paul Friedrich. “School for Aesthetics.” German Romantic Criticism. The German Library: Vol. 21. Ed. A. Leslie Willson. New York: Continuum, 1982. p. 45.
13. For the meaning of each inscription on the Gohonzon, see the “Diagram of the Gohonzon Transcribed by High Priest Nichikan” and “Further Explanation” in Living Buddhism, November 1997, pp. 16-17, pp. 19-24.

The Way We See Ourselves

Enlightenment or human revolution is to change the way we see ourselves. 

by ~Basistka

An important aspect of what we call enlightenment or human revolution is to change the way we see ourselves to see the unconditional value of life within us, which neither requires comparison with others nor depends upon our transient appearance. It is a simple idea yet requires a difficult change of perspective since we have been trained for most of our lives to judge ourselves by how well we fulfill our socially prescribed roles in comparison with others. Those roles are often related to status or gender but rarely to our individual uniqueness.

As early as our social life begins, we start learning to judge ourselves in terms of others: I'm not as smart as other kids or I'm not as slim as other girls. Later in life, we still judge our worth in the same way: I'm a loser because I don't make as much money as most successful men do or I'm miserable because I'm not married as all happy women should be. With subtle yet repeated reinforcement and censure from society and media, we learn to live our lives through the eyes of others, to think of our happiness in terms of the ideas borrowed from or imposed upon us by others. In America, people are free to express their thoughts, but not many seem to have thoughts or even feelings of their own.

Nichiren Daishonin explains our innate Buddhahood as an absolute value of goodness, often describing it with expressions such as unmade (Jpn musa), originally endowed (Jpn hon'nu) or eternally dwelling (Jpn joju). Buddhahood, in other words, is good in and of itself, not because of exter- nal conditions or circumstances. To awaken to this treasure within us is happiness while our ignorance of it spells suffering. As the Daishonin states, When deluded, one is called an ordinary being, but when enlightened, one is called a Buddha (The Writings of Nichiren Daishonin, p. 4).

The sad irony of modern men and women who have lost touch with their own lives is echoed in the Daishonin's following words: If you seek enlightenment outside yourself, then your performing...even ten thousand good deeds will be in vain. It is like the case of a poor man who spends night and day counting his neighbor's wealth but gains not even half a coin (WND, 3). All the hard work we do for our success and happiness would be wasted if those ideas were simply imposed on us from the outside and naively accepted without critical thinking and reflection.

Deriving self-worth by comparing ourselves with others is one of our most destructive habits. It may be even described as a form of self-inflicted violence since it weakens us by de-centering our existence in the sense that it shifts the center of power to decide the meaning of our lives to the outside. We let others decide what our happiness is, instead of deciding for ourselves. With the power of self-determination lost to external authority, we are no longer free nor independent. Since we live in a competitive society where this sort of comparison is encouraged and often unavoidable, it is a difficult habit to break, but to do so is crucial to our genuine happiness and freedom.

It is ironic that the original meaning of the word compete derives from the Latin com- together and petere seek or strive. Competition did not originally connote comparison; it meant strive together after shared goals. Just as the Daishonin characterizes the state of Anger with contention and strife (WND, 100), competition in society often gives rise to anger, overt or suppressed.

To judge self-worth by comparing oneself with others is essentially an authoritarian way of life in which one seeks comfort and security in the approval of an external power. To unlearn such an authoritarian orientation and build a society in which people may live true to their unique identities is certainly an aspiration of our multifaceted Soka Spirit movement, which aims for the liberation of individuals from all forms of authoritarianism, both within and without.

One way to overcome our tendency to compare ourselves with others is through learning how to praise ourselves for our unique, intrinsic value. A common concern about self-praise is that it may cause arrogance, probably due to our Judeo-Christian tradition in which self-humiliation is often regarded as a necessary virtue to praise God, while self-praise is deemed as a sign of pride, which is one of the seven deadly sins. It should be noted, however, that arrogance is a defensive posture caused by a tendency to assume a sense of superiority or inferiority by comparing oneself with others. 

Therefore, so long as we praise ourselves solely for who we are and for our innate Buddhahood, we will never become arrogant, though we may at times seem arrogant to arrogant people. Indeed, the greatest way to praise ourselves is prayer that sincerely affirms our supreme potential as the Daishonin states, When you chant myoho and recite renge, you must summon up deep faith that Myoho-renge-kyo is your life itself (WND, 3). As we praise ourselves in this way, we will grow confident yet humble because we start to recognize the same quality of Buddhahood in others as well. Appreciation for oneself leads to appreciation for others, which further strengthens self-esteem. The way we see ourselves is not only the way we live our lives, but also the way we relate to others.

(Originally published in the World Tribune, Nov. 9, 2001)

Desires and Enlightenment

"The teachings of Nichiren stress the transformation, rather than the elimination, of desire. Desires and attachments are seen as fueling the quest for enlightenment. As he wrote: 'Now Nichiren and others who chant Nam-myoho-renge-kyo... burn the firewood of earthly desires and behold the fire of enlightened wisdom.'"

People encountering Nichiren Buddhism for the first time are often surprised by the stance taken toward desire which seems to contradict prevailing images of Buddhism. For many, Buddhism is associated with asceticism, and indeed there are many schools and traditions which stress the need to eliminate desire and sever all attachments.

Needless to say, a life controlled by desires is miserable. In Buddhist scriptures, such a way of life is symbolized by "hungry demons" with giant heads and huge mouths, but narrow, constricted throats that make real satisfaction unattainable. The deliberate horror of these images grew from Shakyamuni Buddha's sense of the need to shock people from their attachment to things--including our physical existence--that will eventually change and be lost to us. Real happiness does not lie here, he sought to tell them.
The deeply ingrained tendencies of attachments and desire (Jpn bonno) are often referred to by the English translation "earthly desires." However, since they also include hatred, arrogance, distrust and fear, the translation "deluded impulses" may in some cases be more appropriate.
But can such desires and attachments really be eliminated? Attachments are, after all, natural human feelings, and desires are a vital and necessary aspect of life. The desire, for example, to protect oneself and one's loved ones has been the inspiration for a wide range of advances--from the creation of supportive social groupings to the development of housing and heating. Likewise, the desire to understand humanity's place in the cosmos has driven the development of philosophy, literature and religious thought. Desires are integral to who we are and who we seek to become.
In this sense, the elimination of all desire is neither possible nor, in fact, desirable. Were we to completely rid ourselves of desire, we would end up undermining our individual and collective will to live.

The teachings of Nichiren thus stress the transformation, rather than the elimination, of desire. Desires and attachments are seen as fueling the quest for enlightenment. As he wrote: "Now Nichiren and others who chant Nam-myoho-renge-kyo...burn the firewood of earthly desires and behold the fire of enlightened wisdom..."

In the same vein, the Universal Worthy Sutra states: "Even without extinguishing their earthly desires or denying the five desires, they can purify all of their senses and eradicate all of their misdeeds."
Nichiren's approach has the effect of popularizing, humanizing and democratizing Buddhism. In other words, by making the aspirations, dreams and frustrations of daily life the "fuel" for the process of enlightenment, Nichiren opens the path of Buddhist practice to those who had traditionally been excluded by the demands of a meditative withdrawal from the world--those, for example, who wish to continue playing an active role in the world.

It is thus not a coincidence that this attitude toward desires should be central to the Mahayana tradition of Buddhism, with its emphasis on the role of lay practitioners. For people living in the midst of ever-changing, stressful realities, those challenges are a far more effective spur to committed Buddhist practice than an abstract goal of "enlightenment" through severing of all desires and attachments.

Overcoming problems, realizing long-cherished goals and dreams--this is the stuff of daily life from which we derive our sense of accomplishment and happiness. SGI President Daisaku Ikeda has emphasized the importance not of severing our attachments, but of understanding and, ultimately, using them.

Often the faith experiences of SGI members describe events and changes that seem at first glance to be focused on the external, material side of life. But such "benefits" are only part of the story. Buddhism divides the benefits of practice into the "conspicuous" and the "inconspicuous." The new job, the conquest of illness, the successful marriage and so on are not separate from a deep, often painstaking process of self-reflection and inner-driven transformation. And the degree of motivation generated by desires can lend an intensity to our practice which ultimately reaps spiritual rewards. Bonno soku bodai--literally, "Earthly desires are enlightenment"--is a key tenet of Nichiren Buddhism.

Through our Buddhist practice, even the most mundane, deluded impulse can be transformed into something broader and more noble, and our desires quite naturally develop from self-focused ones to broader ones concerning our families, friends, communities and, ultimately, the whole world.
In this way, the nature of desire is steadily transformed--from material and physical desires to the more spiritually oriented desire to live the most fulfilling kind of life.

As President Ikeda says: "I believe in the existence of another kind of human desire: I call it the basic desire, and I believe that it is the force that actively propels all other human desires in the direction of creativity. It is the source of all impelling energy inherent in life; it is also the longing to unite one's life with the life of the universe and to draw vital energy from the universe."

Source: SGI Quarterly 2000

Good and Evil

"If we lack the courage to confront evil acts, or tendencies toward hatred and discrimination, both within ourselves and in society, they will spread unchecked, as history shows. Martin Luther King, Jr., lamented, 'We will have to repent in this generation not merely for the hateful words and actions of the bad people but for the appalling silence of the good people.'"

Good and evil have often been looked upon as diametrically opposed and mutually exclusive. But in a real, practical sense, such a simplistic way of thinking is unsatisfactory. Even the cruelest of criminals may possess a strong sense of love or compassion toward his parents and children. Is such a person fundamentally good or evil?

The Buddhist understanding is that good and evil are innate, inseparable aspects of life. This view makes it impossible to label a particular individual or group as "good" or "evil." Every single human being is capable of acts of the most noble good, or the basest evil.

by sanguisGelidus

Moreover, good and evil in Buddhism are seen not as absolute but relative or "relational." The good or evil of an act is understood in terms of its actual impact on our own lives and the lives of others, not on abstract rules of conduct.

Evil actions are those which are based on a narrow selfishness, the delusion that our lives are fundamentally disconnected from those of others and that we can benefit at their expense. Evil views life as a means to be expended, not an end in itself. Good is that which generates connection between ourselves and others, healing and restoring the bonds among human societies.

In the context of Buddhism, good is identified with "the fundamental nature of enlightenment," or absolute freedom and happiness resulting from profound self-knowledge. Evil indicates "fundamental darkness," or life's innate delusion which negates the potential of enlightenment and causes suffering for oneself and others. This inner darkness echoes with the despair that our lives are ugly and meaningless; it also drives a wedge of fear that splits the hearts of people into "us" and "them."


A Buddha is someone who has the courage to acknowledge these two fundamental aspects of life. As Nichiren states, "One who is thoroughly awakened to the nature of good and evil from their roots to their branches and leaves is called a Buddha." Buddhas accept their innate goodness without arrogance because they know all people share the same Buddha nature. Buddhas also recognize their innate evil without despair because they know they have the strength to overcome and control their negativity.

Unwillingness to acknowledge the potential of both supreme good and evil can stem from the fact that as individuals we are reluctant to see ourselves as either very good or very bad, hiding instead behind a collective moral mediocrity that requires neither the responsibility of goodness nor the guilt of evil. And perhaps this moral ambiguity within seems to demand quick judgment of others-viewing those who serve our interests as "good people" and those whom we dislike as "bad people" as if to counterbalance that inner confusion with external clarity.

Some view Buddhism as a teaching of tranquility and repose--of passivity even--whereas in fact the practice of Buddhism is not about "staying safe." It is a constant struggle to create value and change evil into good through our own efforts to confront it. Nichiren writes, "Opposing good is called evil, opposing evil is called good."

Soka Gakkai founder Tsunesaburo Makiguchi, imprisoned for his criticism of Japan's wartime policies, is said to have engaged his fellow prisoners in a debate on the nature of good and evil, asking if there was a difference between not doing good and committing actual evil.

If we lack the courage to confront evil acts, or tendencies toward hatred and discrimination, both within ourselves and in society, they will spread unchecked, as history shows. Martin Luther King, Jr., lamented, "We will have to repent in this generation not merely for the hateful words and actions of the bad people but for the appalling silence of the good people."

In the words of SGI President Daisaku Ikeda, "The universe, this world and our own lives, are the stage for a ceaseless struggle between hatred and compassion, the destructive and constructive aspects of life. We must never let up, confronting evil at every turn."

And in the end, the evil over which we must triumph is the impulse toward hatred and destruction that resides in us all. The process of acknowledging, confronting and transforming our own fundamental darkness is the means by which we can strengthen the functioning of good in our lives.

[Courtesy October 2002 SGI Quarterly]

10 Good Reasons to Chant Nam-myoho-renge-kyo and the Lotus Sutra

1. Use the Ultimate Law of the Universe for Your Real Happiness (a.k.a., Enlightenment or Buddhahood)

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2. Get Rid of Bad Karma and Build Good Karma. Change Defeat into Victory; Loss into Gain; Poison into Medicine

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3.Overcome Your Fears, Painful Memories and Phobias

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4. Understand Your Life Condition With an Enlightened Mind

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 5. Relate to People in Your Environment on the Highest Level

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6. Control the Lower Four Worlds of Hell, Hunger, Dominant/Submissive Attitudes and Anger

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7. Find and Keep Actual Love

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8. Understand and Get What You Really Need for Your Happiness (What Do I want out of life?)

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9. Increase the Span of Your Life; Overcome the Sufferings of Birth, Old Age, Sickness, Death and Re-birth

 

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10. Get Stuff You May Want, Including Freedom, Wealth, Love, Friends, Work Satisfaction and Joy By Buddhafying Yourself

 Source: americangongyo.org

Share your reasons to chant

Happy Kosen Rufu Day

The Japanese phrase kosen-rufu expresses a centrally important concept for members of the SGI. It is often used synonymously with world peace, and has been informally defined as "world peace through individual happiness." More broadly, it could be understood as a vision of social peace brought about by the widespread acceptance of core values such as unfailing respect for the dignity of human life.

The phrase itself is of ancient origin and appears in the 23rd chapter of the Lotus Sutra, which states, "In the fifth five hundred years after my death, accomplish worldwide kosen-rufu and never allow its flow to cease." Here, the phrase kosen-rufu is written with four Chinese characters that could be rendered, respectively, as "widely," "declare," "flow" and "promulgate," and in its most literal sense it means the widespread flow and spreading--and application--of the teachings contained in the Lotus Sutra. Kosen-rufu implies an approach to Buddhist practice that is deeply engaged with the affairs of society and the world.

The stress placed by Nichiren on kosen-rufu typifies his approach to Buddhist practice; that our personal happiness--enlightenment--is inextricably linked with the peace and happiness of our fellow humans and of society as a whole. He rejected the idea that enlightenment is something to be cultivated as a private, inner virtue. He also rejected the idea that the proper goal of Buddhism is to garner reward in the afterlife. What these two ideas have in common is resignation regarding our ability to overcome suffering and positively transform society. For Nichiren, this represented an unacceptable turning away from the core Buddhist tenet that people are capable of realizing genuine happiness in this world. Both approaches were the target of his critique.

In Nichiren's view, enlightenment is not so much a goal or end in itself, as a basis for altruistic action. The life-state of Buddhahood--a condition of limitless vitality, wisdom and compassion--is one which is expressed, maintained and strengthened through committed action to contribute to the well-being and happiness of other people.

For more about Kosen Rufu

What Love is Not

What Love is Not 

"Love is not love..." As Shakespeare once wrote (Sonnet 116), what seems to be love sometimes may not be love at all. As much as the subject of love occupies many people's minds (and perhaps much of their time and money), their greatest concern seems usually confined to finding love or becoming lovable in the eyes of others, rather than the meaning of love or the capacity for loving. The underlying assumption of such an attitude may be that love is a feeling of pleasure and comfort only to be stimulated by an external object. The usual remedy for life without love, therefore, is to find that object—someone new and better. Erich Fromm, a noted psychologist and social philosopher, considers love as an "art" that "requires knowledge and effort"; he defines love as "the active concern for the life and the growth of that which we love" (The Art of Loving, pp. 1, 25). If love is one's capacity to wish and act for the happiness and freedom of another person, a fundamental solution to the suffering of love must be sought not outward, but in the development of the character and inner strength that make us capable of loving more genuinely and powerfully.

To master the art of loving is to overcome the desire for control and dependency

One of the greatest obstacles to the joy of loving is our desire for control. We sometimes mistake our wish to control others for our loving concern. We may think of ourselves as affectionate, yet our "love" may be a disguised desire to manipulate others for our personal gain. In his writings, Nichiren Daishonin often uses a mythic Buddhist creature called the "devil king of the sixth heaven" as a metaphor for the deep-seated human desire to control others. Indeed, another name for this devil king literally means the "heavenly being who makes free use of others" (Jpn takejizaiten). Through his lively descriptions of this "devil," the Daishonin seems to indicate the importance of becoming aware and vigilant of our desire to use others as a means to our selfish ends. Since dependency is essential to control, the devil king uses various schemes to make people dependent on him. One of his main tools to encourage dependency is manipulation through feigned affection. Despite the general perception of the devil king as a fierce monster, he is adept at appearing affectionate. To lure people and keep them under his control, the devil king is said to make himself look like a Buddha or parent. For example, the Daishonin states, "The devil king of the sixth heaven is endowed with the Buddha's thirty-two features and manifests the Buddha's body" (Gosho Zenshu, p. 114). The Daishonin also quotes from a Buddhist commentary, which states, "So long as a person does not try to depart from the sufferings of birth and death and aspire to the Buddha vehicle, the devil will watch over him like a parent" (The Writings of Nichiren Daishonin, p. 770). In fact, there is even a type of devil in the Buddhist tradition called "the devil of compassion" (Gosho Zenshu, p. 526). Those who are eager to control others often appear affectionate—"taking care of them" or "being nice to them"—with the aim of keeping them dependent materially or emotionally. In Ibsen's play A Doll's House, the seemingly affectionate yet controlling husband Torvald Helmer reminds his wife, Nora, of his "love" expressed in the form of financial support: "My pretty little pet is very sweet, but it runs away with an awful lot of money. It's incredible how expensive it is for a man to keep such a pet" (Act 1, trans. by James McFarlane and Jens Arup).

The truth of love is found in our sincerity to act for the happiness and freedom of others

It is easy to mistake control and dependency for love. The appearance of selfish love, however, like that of the devil king's, is only deceptive, for it is conditional to submission. As the Daishonin points out, the devil king is affectionate "so long as a person does not try to depart from" his control (WND, 770). Some people may give anything to their "loved ones" only to keep them dependent. Those obsessed with control, however, usually find it difficult to wish for the genuine happiness and independence of others. Instead, they would hope to see others deprived in one way or another in order to maintain their sense of superiority. The test of our love, in this sense, lies in our sincerity to encourage and work for the self-reliance and freedom of our loved ones. As the Daishonin states, "The nature of this devil king is to rejoice at those who create the karma of the three evil paths and to grieve at those who form the karma of the three good paths" (WND, 42). Those who thrive on domination may easily show pity for others in suffering, while inwardly delighting at the sight. For the misery of others affords those in control yet another opportunity to show their superiority and thereby remind those suffering of their need for dependency. 

At the core of a relationship built on domination and submission lies a profound sense of insecurity and powerlessness on both sides. Those who like to dominate cannot verify the meaning of their existence on their own, so they must derive a sense of power from the subjugation of others. Similarly, those who easily submit to an external authority cannot see their self-worth. So they feel impelled to become part of someone "better" and "stronger" by abandoning their identity and integrity. To such submissive people, control means protection against their own insecurity. Those submissive to an external authority do not see their lives as worthwhile to live for, but they cannot endure the emptiness of having nobody to live for either. So they must seek an external object with which to merge their identity so that they may not face the weakness and emptiness of their own lives. This symbiotic relationship between the dominant and the submissive is disturbed when the submissive party uncovers his or her self-worth and develops the inner strength to become independent. Then the dominant party's insecurity will surface as frustration and anger. 

The Daishonin's following descriptions of the devil king illustrate his intense fear and anxiety in this regard: "When we thus draw near to achieving Buddhahood…the devil king of the sixth heaven, lord of the threefold world, reasons: 'If these persons should become Buddhas, I will suffer loss on two counts. First of all, if they free themselves from the threefold world, they will escape my control. Second, if they become Buddhas, their parents and siblings will also depart from the saha world. How can I stop this from happening?'" (WND, 1094). "When an ordinary person of the latter age is ready to attain Buddhahood…this devil is greatly surprised. He says to himself, 'This is most vexing. If I allow this person to remain in my domain, he not only will free himself from the sufferings of birth and death, but will lead others to enlightenment as well. Moreover, he will take over my realm and change it into a pure land. What shall I do?'" (WND, 894).

To love truly, we must free ourselves from the fundamental darkness within

The devil king does not want anyone to attain enlightenment and become free since that would be a painful reminder of his own powerlessness and dependency. The paradox of this devil king, who "dwells at the summit of the world of desire and rules over the threefold world" (WND, 508), is that he is controlled by his own desire to control. The devil king is a ruler who cannot rule himself. The more control he has, the more of it he needs. He is perpetually driven by his inner weakness and insecurity, never feeling satisfied. He is a prisoner of the prison he himself creates. Although he is said to make "free use of others," he is never free in the innermost reality of his life. The devil king, therefore, is incapable of loving. The devil king is said to dwell in the sixth and highest heaven of the world of desire, but his "love," if it could be so called at all, results only in profound unfulfillment and suffering beneath its heavenly pleasure. 

As William Blake knew, such selfish "Love seeketh only Self to please, / To bind another to Its delight: / Joys in another's loss of ease, / And builds a Hell in Heavens despite" ("The Clod & the Pebble," ed. David V. Erdman). To love truly, we must be free. To be free, then, we must discover our innate self-worth. In the same sonnet quoted earlier, Shakespeare also wrote, "Let me not to the marriage of true minds / Admit impediments." One of the greatest impediments to our ability to love is a delusion about the truth of our inner life—Buddhahood. Such delusion leads to powerlessness and dependency. The mythic devil king is symbolic of this delusion as the Daishonin says, "The fundamental darkness manifests itself as the devil king of the sixth heaven" (WND, 1113). To shed light on this inner "fundamental darkness" through strengthening our confidence in Buddhahood within our lives, then, is an essential practice for the art of loving.


(Originally published in the World Tribune, Dec. 7, 2001)

Groundhog Day

"When Chekhov saw the long winter, he saw a winter bleak and dark and bereft of hope. Yet we know that winter is just another step in the cycle of life. But standing here among the people of Punxsutawney and basking in the warmth of their hearths and hearts, I couldn't imagine a better fate than a long and lustrous winter."- Phil Connors

That is a line from the funny 1993 Harold Ramis film "Groundhog Day. It stars Bill Murray as a egotistical and cynical weatherman Phil Connor who is sent to Punxatawney, Penn., to cover Groundhog Day. He rather be anywhere than near that darn groundhog. He's accompanied on this trip by Rita (Andie McDowell), the segment producer. Because of a snowstorm, they are forced to stay another day. When he wakes up the next morning at 6am (with Sonny and Cher singing "I Got You Babe" on the clock radio), he discovers that it's Groundhog Day all over again. Everyone and everything is the same except for him. And it keeps happening over and over, day after day after day.

Just like my review of the film "Harold & Maude", this film also has a Buddhist theme. According to Buddhist critic Tom Armstrong, its "the greatest Buddhist movie ever made". 

I really enjoy this film and upon re-watching this past weekend, you yourself will feel like your stuck in a time loop and want to catch the next greyhound bus out of town for good. But more importantly, you can see that change is possible. The kind of change that affects you, your environment and your karma. 

You leave the film thinking, man Phil is one enlightened guy! Phil is not a god. He never says he is but believes he's like a god. But he's an ordinary person like all of us. We may see what he was able to accomplished as extraordinary (like having super powers or something, which I will address in a upcoming post), but its fact is not. Phil perfectly depicts what a Bodhisattva is. 

So we know that Phil relives the same day over and over again. The same events happen, day in and day out. But how is he like a Bodhisattva? As witness his journey into the Ten Worlds (some say his character is in a time loop for about 8.5 years or more) ,he begins to realize that in order to break this cycle he needs to change himself. Here is what we know about Phil and a general sequence of events that happen to him:

• He's not a nice guy, arrogant, insincere, egocentric.
• He cannot believe the day is repeating itself, aggravated.
• He tests how far he can go without ever paying for any consequences for his actions (punching out a man, overeating, robbing money),  "I don't worry about anything anymore".
• He has fun getting information to use the following day to take advantage of people, testing his memory of events.
• He uses the same tactics on the segment producer Rita so he can woo her. 
• She repeatedly slaps and rebuffs his advances.
• He looks terrible, tired and defeated, and figures he has to stop the groundhog so Winter could end 

PHIL (sarcastic, to camera) Well, that's it.  Sorry you couldn't be here in person to share the electric moment.  This is one event where television really fails to capture the excitement of thousands of people gathered to watch a large squirrel predict the weather, and I for one am deeply grateful to have been a part of it. Reporting for Channel 9, this is Phil Connors. 
RITA You want to try one that's a little sweeter? 
PHIL That's as sweet as I get.  I'm outa here.

• He drives off a cliff (with the groundhog in tow) to his suppose death
• He survives that so begins his quest find other ways to off himself (stabbed, poisoned, hanged, frozen, jumps off a building, burned, electrocuted.
• He thinks he's a god because he survived all of those attempts and tries to convince Rita by telling her all the things he knows about her, Punxatawney and its people.

After spending the day with Rita, she realizes this is not the same jerk she once knew. He is being honest, opened, and there is this kind of realization that sets in for him. But not the realization you think. He's close to it though. He thought he had the power to control everyone and everything. He wasted his days for selfish reasons, but once that idea got tired. He tried to kill himself to escape his suffering, but that didn't work- he thought okay now what? I thought that even though he was experiencing the same day over and over again, he was creating new experiences. The more you learn about what works and what doesn't work, you begin to expand and grow as a person. He was discovering parts of himself that maybe he never knew existed or was possible.


RITA I'm just amazed. And I'm not easily amazed.
PHIL About what?? 
RITA How you can start a day with one kind of expectation and end up so completely different.

In other words, change you, change your environment. 

To me the turning points happens when he's with Rita flipping cards in a hat and he says that its always the same day, February 2nd and there is nothing I can do about it. Rita tells him:

"I don't know, Phil. Maybe it's not a curse. It just depends on how you look at it."

Later when she falls asleep, he speaks from his heart to Rita and says:  "It doesn't matter what happens tomorrow or for the rest of my life. I'm happy now."

• Now he wakes up with a different more positive attitude.
• Learns how to play the piano, ice sculpt, speak french, attempts to save man' life who once before he completely ignored.
• Saves a kid falling out of a tree, fixes a flat tire for a bunch of elderly women, helps a choking man, shows his piano playing abilities at the groundhog banquet..slowly but surely impressing Rita.
• He unveils his ice sculpture of Rita and says "I'm happy now because I love you no matter what happens. 
• He wakes up again, next to Rita...its a brand new day, February 3rd

"Groundhog Day" really illustrates the Buddhist concept of samsara, the continuing cycle of birth and death that ordinary people undergo in the the world of illusion and suffering. Buddhists regard this suffering one must escape. This rebirth is referred to as "transmigration in the six paths." The six paths are the realms of hell, hungry spirits, animals, asuras, human beings, and heavenly beings. Unenlightened beings are born into one of the six paths in accordance with their actions in their previous existence; when the present life is over,they are reborn in the same or another of the six paths, REPEATING this process so long as they fail to free themselves from it. Sound familiar? Freeing oneself from transmigration is our goal. The causes for such transmigration are regarded as ignorance of the true nature of life and selfish craving. In order to free yourself from this, you must awaken to the truth of your life and eliminate selfish craving, which leads to attaining nirvana.

The film also illustrates the Buddhist concept of attachment. Because of our attachment to ignorance, hatred, greed or things outside ourselves, we are never satisfied. And the more attach we become, the more we experience misery, complaints and doubt.

Phil awakened to the truth which is why he would be considered a Bodhisattva. A Bodhisattva is one who aspires to attain enlightenment or Buddhahood and carries altruistic practice. Phil displays this in many forms when he begins to give back, save lives and more importantly shows compassion for the citizens of Punxsutawney. In Nichiren Buddhism, one can attain Buddhahood in your present form and completed in a single lifetime. Phil goes through the lower ten worlds over and over and in the end, finds happiness and satisfaction in devoting himself to relieving the suffering of others. His early selfish actions (bad causes), did not yield good results (effects) for him either. When he began to embrace his life, his existence- he changed the people around him. They were magnetized to him or as we say attracted to his high life condition. And as a result, finds a genuine love relationship with Rita.

Many may wonder how he gets there. One could say because he really heard what Rita said and changed his perceptions when he stopped trying and began to care or when he stopped making bad causes and surrendered to the truth of his heart. I like to think its because he had a omamori with him (traveling case that holds your Gohonzon) in his room or somewhere, he was shakabukued. And after every failed day, he chanted to find clarity and wisdom. It was trial and error each time but he finally found the key to unlock his suffering. Here the eightfold path is evident. He had the self-awareness, optimism and courage to change his life. We all do. Its about acknowledging that the mistakes we make, can be improved upon and by making one small or big change, you can significantly achieve whatever it is you want. In other words, you are ultimately responsible for your own happiness.

According to Dean Sluyter, the author of Cinema Nirvana: Enlightenment Lessons from the Movies, the film repeat parts of the same day forty-two times, or six weeks, exactly the time we will wait for winter to end if the groundhog sees his shadow. “In other words,” he said, “we are the groundhog and we are afraid of our own shadow, a shadow created by light. That light is truth, reality. Ultimate truth, then, is not a bummer. It’s nothing.”

But that can't be done if you stay in your groundhog shadow because you will never see the Spring. He saw Winter has an opportunity, a challenge to change himself and his environment. And as we learned from our Buddhist practice Winter never fails to turn into Spring.

By Seleus Blelis