This morning, I lost my Daimoku chart. Or, at least I couldn’t find it. Myoho. I have my suspicions about how it “walked away,” but my main suspect denied outright that he messed around with my Buddhist papers (despite an incriminating notebook mysteriously lying on the coffee table near the Budsadan . . .)
I couldn’t have lost my chart if I had been more diligent in chanting every morning and evening. It’s my fault. But while I was tearing the drawer apart searching for the chart, I thought of something that has been a minor irritant to me.
In the summer of 1999, a job opening came available at the University of Nevada, Reno where I was working as an intern in the Office of Communications. I applied for it and then applied myself to chanting and going to meetings in order to make causes to get this job. I went a number of times to a fellow member’s apartment and chanted with him, sometimes helping him with guests he brought and sometimes bringing other members with me. We were sort of a rogue group – these weren’t official meetings, just plain old-fashioned daimoky tozos and gongyos together with friends.
I got the job. Hallelujah! I could divorce my husband, take care of my daughter and continue in grad school!
What’s bugging me is that I heard a rumor that the member who opend up his house to me was running around the chapter telling people he had “gotten me the job.” Now, that’s not exactly true. In order to lead up to the fortune of getting this job, I had to work my way through UCLA, work as a journalist for a decade, win a bunch of awards, as well as excel in my internship. It was a regional search and I beat about 40 or 50 other applicants, but to arrogantly claim that he, and he alone, got me the job, didn’t sit right with me.
Especially since this member is a one of the troubling ones who have tended to de-shakubuku me through their behavior. He doesn’t have a job of his own, nor has he had one in the many years I’ve known him. He has at least five children with various women and he pays not one dime of child support. He’s on welfare and has busted out front teeth. This last point is, I admit, the most petty of my complaints. But it seems to me that if you were serious about doing shakubuku, you would – after 25 years of practice – have chanted for the fortune to get your damn teeth fixed so people at least wouldn’t automatically assume you are the bum you actually are.
Anyhow, I haven’t talked to him in at least a year. To be fair, he did do me the extreme favor of handing me a book called “The Passive-Aggressive Man,” which could have been a detailed account of my life with my ex. It blew my mind and gave a name to the situation I was in and how to deal with it. So no hard feelings. But what is it with folks who chant and chant, but stay the same?
This is where I work. University of Nevada, Reno
I am a writer/editor in the office of marketing and communications at the University of Nevada, Reno. Work has been a source of much angst, but also much actual proof. Over my five years here, I can say that - to my astonishment - the people who caused me the most distress have one by one left or been fired. Yahoo!!!! Chanting works.
Hello everyone! I've been officially practicing Nichiren Daishonin's Buddhism since April 6, 1986, but I started chanting circa 1969 after a friend, Laura Wilhelm, wrote the words Nam Myoho Renge Kyo on a scrap of paper and told me to "chant these words to get anything I wanted." Yowza how it worked, even back then! I have so many mystical experiences regarding chanting that I could write a book. I'd love to recount some of them, but right now I'm in a hurry to get out the door.
I call myself a "Buddhist on the fringe" for two reasons: I have been practiing in the relative hinterland of Reno, Nev. since 1988, after beginning to practice in Los Angeles, and because, of late, I have become estranged from the organization.
I don't go to meetings anymore for a variety of reasons, mainly because I can't stomach the propaganda about President Ikeda from the head-bobbing sychophants. Also, I haven't experienced much, if any, compassion from the leaders or members here. They've basically dropped me like a hot potato - not that they made much effort in the past to really get to know me or listen to me, anyway. My best friend - who got treated like shit by the leadership, by the way - died a few years ago - so what's the point? Incidentally, although becoming estranged has been a very painful experience for me, I have continued to reap vast benefits. Life is indeed mystical, and, Wow! contrary to what the organization tells you, good - amazing even - stuff continues to happen even if you don't go to meetings!
Why you should care is twofold, as well. It's different practicing in an area like Reno - we joke that an hour of daimoku here is worth three in the city! A Kansai-type campaign would alienate the whole city; we would get a bad reputation. It's very different. But also, I think that the progression from utterly gung ho member for many, many years to an alienated member ought to concern the organization. Perhaps they could learn something from me. However, it sure doesn't seem like they care at all.