These Days...

…I’m mainly a Theravada practitioner. “Theravada” means “school of the elders,” and that’s what I dig about it. All hipness aside, it is, quite literally, the old school. As I’ve mentioned before, I’m most interested in what the Buddha himself actually taught and practiced, and this is it. Granted, you’ll get a lot of differing opinions on that, but, historically, this is as close as it gets.

Theravada has many aspects I find attractive, but one of my favorites is something it lacks. Whereas Zen and Tibetan Buddhism were transplanted to America via actual Japanese and Tibetans, Theravada was brought here by Americans. They studied in Thailand and Burma and Sri Lanka with renowned masters and then returned to their homeland to teach. When they did, they stripped away a lot of the cultural superfluity that clings to the practice in Eastern countries. After many years of study overseas, they grasped what was at the heart of Buddhist practice and that is what they brought back. Everything else they left behind.

Zen and Vajrayana are flourishing here, due in no small part to their exotic natures. Both practices are markedly different from any branch of Western religion. That often appeals to people who decide to reject their birth religion. It most definitely happened to me. Plus there was the benefit of learning from real-life Asians. Why would I want to study Theravada when it was mostly taught by middle aged white dudes? I was up to my EYEBALLS in middle aged white dudes. But Asian guys in gold silk brocade robes with names like Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche? That was where it was AT.

Many Westerners want the full ride when they embrace an Eastern religion, be it Hinduism, Buddhism, Sufism or what have you. Since both Zen and Vajrayana were established here by Asian masters, people could feel like they were getting the real deal. Not only was the religion mysterious and funky, but you were sitting at the feet of someone who actually trudged across the Himalayas fleeing the goddamn Commie Chinese in order to bring you the Dharma. Unfortunately, he brought all his cultural baggage with him, too.

These masters had no reason to change the Dharma, or its presentation in the West. They were smart enough to realize that it would change over time and adapt to a new land as it had always done. But they weren’t changing anything on their own. So as they set up digs in the U.S., they began teaching their students what they knew. And that certainly included all the ritual and dogma that is associated with Buddhism from the Far East. As their students became more advanced, they often revealed the more esoteric notions hidden from outside eyes. This is especially true with Vajrayana. Its innermost practices are highly secretive due to the belief that a mind that is not ready can be destroyed by them.

When these masters died or retired from teaching, they usually appointed a student to take over. The student became the head of the lineage, or Dharma center, or whatever it was. These days, many Zen organizations are run by whitey. The Japanese teachers have left their legacy in the hands of their non-Asian students and these students are now responsible for the next generation of practitioners. The same is true in the Tibetan branch, though not to the same extent. Vajrayana groups are more likely to be led, or at least overseen, by a Tibetan guru.

This ensures that much of what I consider the pointless ritual, pomp and circumstance of Buddhism will continue. There are few Dharma leaders interested in real innovation here in America. They are comfortable where they are. They now receive the adulation, devotion and loyalty that was heaped upon their Asian predecessors. They hold the power and enjoy all the perks that come with their office. Everything that once seemed so foreign and exotic to them is now second nature. Without examining that, they will keep perpetuating it until the next one is ready to step in and take over.

I had been entertaining these thoughts for some time before I ceased my involvement in Zen. I knew it would probably mean a foray into Theravada, if for no other reason than it was the only one I hadn’t fully explored yet. It had always seemed so plain, so prosaic and unmoving. In short, I had always been attracted to Zen and Vajrayana for the exact same reasons I’ve outlined over these last few posts: because they were bright and shiny and ostentatiously un-American.

To ease into it I started with a book I’d already read, Noah Levine’s Dharma Punx. I’d finished it long ago, when I was still practicing Tibetan Buddhism. It was so life altering, so smokingly cool that I toyed with the idea of abandoning the Vajrayana right there. Noah’s book spoke to me in a way that I hadn’t heard since I originally discovered Buddhism. And it spoke in a voice that was so like, so close to…well, MY voice.

Dharma Punx tells Noah’s life story. It follows him as he grows up disaffected and alienated from a world he begins to hate more and more. He falls into drugs at a painfully young age but the first thing that became a real glimmer of hope for him was punk rock. It shouted ideals to him, other, rebellious, options than what conformist America had so far presented. He plunged into the scene, trying to drown himself in the anger that sought to right all the wrongs that society was wreaking. Oh, and the alcohol, too. The booze and crack and weed and heroin and LSD. Those were a part of the scene and they became a part of Noah’s everyday life. Soon he was stealing from family and friends and living with the other grubby punks on the streets. They fought and fucked and smoked away all the horrors of life. He was in and out of juvenile detention and a full-on alcoholic and drug addict. It didn’t help that his father was a well-known Buddhist meditation teacher. Stephen Levine tried reaching out to his son several times with no success. Noah just wouldn’t accept what he saw as the “hippie shit” from his parent’s generation. It had failed them, how could it be of any use to him?

When he woke up in juvie for about the 5th time at age 17 he’d had enough. He was in a padded cell because he posed a danger to everyone, including himself. He called his dad who gave him some basic meditation instructions. At rock bottom, Noah finally relented. He began sitting and watching his breath. When he got out of juvie, over a year later, he stayed sober. He joined a 12-step program and never went back to drugs or alcohol. His life slowly began to reorient itself along spiritual lines. He started practicing the other tenets of Buddhism in addition to the meditation his father had given him. His body started to look like a tattooed road map of Eastern religion.

These days Noah is one of Theravada’s strongest voices, and certainly the one that speaks most personally to me. He works with youths in juvenile hall and adults in the prison system. He teaches all over America and has started his own center, Against The Stream Buddhist Meditation Society. “Against the stream” are the words the Buddha used to describe his philosophy and practice. Noah, being a punk, has long identified with Buddhism as a form of spiritual rebellion. Bereft of the misguided anger of his early days, he still considers Buddhism a radical choice, perfectly in line with the guiding principles of punk rock.

I happen to agree. I’m also heavily tattooed and still dealing with all the rage leftover from my own misbegotten punk days. Noah looks like me. He’s had many of the same experiences I have. He’s begun healing, as I have, but he hasn’t sold out to the touchy-feely land of “hippie shit” that I so dread. He knows that Buddhism is something concrete that you can practice, not something ethereal and untouchable. And he’s interested in Buddhism emerging in America with all the practical parts intact, and all the lame additions stripped away.

I know it sounds like I’m fawning, but I can’t overstate how important this has been to my life and practice. Real Buddhism urges students to search for their teacher. They shouldn’t accept someone just because there’s no other option. They shouldn’t put blind faith in a teacher because he or she says so. There should be a connection there, something the student notices immediately. Yet the questioning nature should still be present as well. The student should feel passionate about learning from this person yet still maintain the ability to investigate the teachings whole-heartedly before accepting them.

It took me 10 years to find this. I was beginning to despair that a simple, straightforward Buddhism that wasn’t run by aging hippies even existed. Would I have to go crawling back to Vajrayana and wrap myself in her blazing colors? Would I have to finally find a Zen center that would toughen up my face with a shoe? Or would I just have to practice alone, sifting through the mounds of worthless shit in the “Eastern Religion” section at the bookstore for the 3 or 4 useful books written every year?

Theravada was brought to the West by Westerners. In my opinion it is the most uniquely suited to our needs. Within that lineage, I’ve found a teacher willing to challenge the tried and true pillars that hold up the Dharma. Being an iconoclast myself, I’d like to be right there beside him. Noah has gone so far as to mention that we might have to go ahead and get rid of Buddhism itself because it’s become part of the problem. Strangely enough, that doesn’t bother me at all.