Be An Island Unto Yourselves
by Robert Reese
"Monks, be islands unto yourselves, be your own refuge, having no other; let the Dhamma be an island and a refuge to you, having no other. Those who are islands unto themselves... should investigate to the very heart of things: 'What is the source of sorrow, lamentation, pain, grief and despair? How do they arise?' -- Attadiipaa Sutta
Self-preservation is often people’s innate response during this season. The noticeably ill become corporeal threats--lepers in a sense, because they’ve been struck with the curse the rest of us dread. At Safeway, I saw two teenagers literally run from a masked woman who was coughing mildly into her arm. I half expected the girls to extend their index fingers, yelling “COOOVVVIIIIDDDDDD……!” enacting a scene from a 1960’s science fiction film. At the same time, I’ve seen the benevolent element that our community has banded together, in sequestration, to defend our most physically fragile citizens. Sadly, I’ve come to live with these paradoxes without thinking too much of it. The days become hazy. People report being either alone or together much more than before. Decisions seem more difficult to make. We sleep more and gain weight. The world feels tipped on its side with everything tumbling out. Our astonishment at this now seems quaint.
Along the horizon is the flat blue-gray expanse of Monterey County sky in August. My gaze races out to the leaden line of the horizon at the base of a sky of unbroken pale clouds. Newly arrived shore birds circle in small groups near the Carmel River mouth, then fly-up in a great noisy cluster as children approach. The first signs of late summer; a beautiful insignificance. The warm water of the Carmel River. From here, the virus feels like a human problem, with nature slanting away from us.
In Buddhism the word “refuge” is often connected with a strong religious aspiration in a person's heart. It seems appropriate to explore this issue of “asylum” since we are, in very real way, “refuging” whether we know it or not.
We trace our practice to Gautama Buddha, who lived in the Bronze Age of ancient India. It remains important to recall that the teaching grew-up in the Bronze Age, amplifying the fact that it was a significantly different time and place. As the story is historically relayed, the Buddha had teachers who taught him meditation, but he found their teachings lacking and did not lead to the liberation from suffering.
The contemporary teachings did not relieve suffering, triggering him to practice on his own. Nor did he have the support that many of us today have grown accustomed to have. He did not have refuge in the Buddha because he was not yet the Buddha. He had not yet discovered the teachings, so there was no Dharma to take refuge in. And, at that point, there were no followers, so there was no community practioneers, or Sangha. Accordingly, Gautama had to make himself his own refuge.
He said, "I have made a refuge of myself. I've made myself my own refuge. And now I'll be leaving." This idea that he had made himself his own refuge is significant. He didn't say that he had found a refuge inside, as if there's some essential inner quality that we all have, which he tapped into. But rather, he says he made it. Elsewhere he talks about how people have their actions as refuge. Both of these ideas: that that the Dharma is not so much about discovering something – that's certainly part of it. But at its foundation, it is something different. Acting in a different way. And by acting differently, living differently, we create our own refuge—we make our life a refuge. (to be continued).