(upbeat music) This podcast is brought to you by Free Buddhist Audio, the Dharma for your life. Our work is funded entirely by donations from our generous listeners. If you would like to help us keep this free, make a contribution at freebuddhistaudio.com/donate. Thank you and happy listening. - Mr. Chairman and friends. (audience cheering) - For the last five weeks, we've been exposing ourselves to the influence, through the quite potent influence of the golden light. And in the course of these five weeks, we may not have been exactly transformed, at least not totally transformed, but the exposure will certainly have had at least some effect on us. We will have come to understand at least some things. One of the things that we will have come to understand, is the fact that the sutra of golden light, is a Mahayana sutra. It's a sutra, a discourse of the Buddha, a scripture, that reflects and projects the spiritual ideals. If you like, the spiritual vision of the Mahayana, the great vehicle, or better still, the great way, the way that is, in principle, the way to supreme enlightenment, to supreme Buddhahood for all sentient beings. Now there are in existence quite a number of Mahayana sutras. Some of them existing in the original Sanskrit, others existing in both the original Sanskrit, and in Chinese Tibetan translations, some existing only in translation. But altogether, there are several hundreds of these Mahayana sutras, and there are various planes of Mahayana sutras. Some of the more important, if you like, some of the most important, of the Mahayana sutras are known as Vipulya sutras. And Vipulya means broad, vast, extensive. And some of these Mahayana sutras are so-called, they're called Vipulya sutras, not just because they are very lengthy, though some of them are very lengthy indeed, some of them amount practically to a whole thick volume, at least in English translation. They're so-called because they are broad, and vast, and extensive in scope, that it is a with respect to their subject matter, with respect to the topics with which they deal. And essentially, basically, the subject matter of each, the subject matter of each of these Vipulya sutras, these broad, vast, extensive sutras, is the total Dharma. That is to say, not just one particular subdivision of the teaching, not just one particular section, not even just one particular aspect, but the total Dharma. Though each of the Vipulya sutras sees that total all-inclusive Dharma from its own special, its own distinctive angle of vision, and perhaps also sees it in terms of the special needs, the special spiritual needs of a particular class of followers. Each of the Vipulya sutras is therefore complete in itself. It can be studied, it can be reflected on, even practiced, without reference to any other sutra, without reference to any other formulation of the Dharma, at least so far as the spiritual needs of the student of consent. If you want to study the sutra from a linguistic point of view, or a scholastic point of view, that's another matter, but from the spiritual point of view, one can confine oneself quite sufficiently, quite satisfactorily, to adjust that one Vipulya sutra. Now, the sutra of golden light does not, in so many words, style itself of Vipulya sutra. The expression Vipulya sutra is not part of its, as it were, official title. But there's no doubt that this is, in fact, what it is. It is a Vipulya sutra. To begin with, it's fairly extensive in size, and in content, it's very extensive indeed. Like the other Vipulya sutras, the sutra of golden light is, in fact, a whole world in itself. And the sutra itself, so to speak, knows this, knows that it is a whole world in itself. In the introduction, in the introductory chapter, the Buddha says, I will make known this sutra, the profound Buddha region. It's a whole region in itself, a Buddha region. I will make known this sutra, the profound Buddha region, the marvellous mystery of all the Buddhas, for millions of eons. And in much the same way in chapter 13, the sutra is spoken of as the profound sphere of activity of the Buddha. So for the last five weeks, we've been exploring this work. We've been exploring the strange. It might sometimes have seemed even the bizarre, the strange and wonderful world of the sutra of golden light. We've started becoming a little familiar with it, started becoming familiar with some, at least, of its more prominent features. We've learned to adjust ourselves to its timescale. We've got used even to what might have appeared at first sight as its inconsistencies. And we've also learned to recognize some of the inhabitants of that world, the world of the sutra of golden light. To begin with, there is the friendly, familiar figure of Ananda. Ananda, as you know, is always there. He's always in attendance on the Buddha. He's always listening. He's always remembering, always storing up the teaching in his mind, in his heart, so that he can repeat it, so that he can teach it to the other disciples later on. So there's the friendly, familiar figure of Ananda who remembers the whole sutra, who was personally present when the events described in the sutra occurred. And then there's the Buddha. That is to say, the Buddha, Shaak Himuni. And then the Buddhas are the four directions. You may remember their names, Aksobha, Ratna Kaitu, Amitaios, or Amitabha, and Dundubhishvara, the Lord of the Drum. Also, we encountered, we met the Bodhisattva, Rudshira Kaitu, who had the wonderful dream. And then there was the Brahmin, Kondindya. And in addition, various gods and goddesses. First, they were the four great kings, the four great kings that guard, the four quarters, the four directions of space, the four directions of the universe, the Ritrastra, Virudhaka, Virupaksha, and Vashravana. And then there were three goddesses. Sarasvati, Sri, and Riddha. To say nothing of various known human beings. There were dragons, Yaksas, Qunaras, and so on. Many, many different kinds of non-human beings. And we've become familiar, not only with the inhabitants of this world, of the fruit of golden light. We've become familiar also with certain themes. With certain themes which result again and again throughout the sutra, themes which may be enacted as it were on the stage of the sutra, as well as being explicitly stated. For instance, there's the theme of the golden light itself. There's the theme of transformation, and there's the theme of protection. For the last two weeks, we've been particularly concerned with the theme of protection. The week before last, the four great kings came forward, and they promised to protect the sutra. And last week, the great goddess Sarasvati came forward, and she promised to protect the sutra. I'd rather promised to protect the monk who preached the sutra. So this week, we're still concerned with the theme of protection. This week, another great goddess comes forward, and she too promises to protect the sutra, promises to protect the monk who preached the sutra. Now this theme of protection is closely connected with the theme of transformation. The world is transformed when it submits to the golden light, when it becomes receptive to the golden light, when it places all its resources at the disposal of the golden light, at the service of the development of the individual. That is to say, of the individual who is himself receptive to the golden light, or who is trying to be receptive to the golden light. The thought great kings, as we saw the week before last, represent a rather their promise represents the general principle of transformation. Transformation of the world. Transformation through submission. In fact, the promise of the four great kings represents the principle, as we saw, of spiritual hierarchy. They submit to the sovereignty of the spiritual forces that are above them. They submit to the transcendental, submit to the golden light at the same time. They exercise sovereignty over the earthly forces that are below them. The three goddesses, about their promises, the promises of the three goddesses, represent the transformation of three different departments of human activity, again transformation through submission. And as we saw last week, Sarasvati's promise represents the transformation of culture. In the person of Sarasvati, culture surrenders its autonomy as it were. Ethnic culture places itself at the service of universal religion, is ready to act as the medium of communication for the golden light. So this week, another department of human activity is being transformed. Another goddess is coming forward and promising to protect the sutra, promising to protect the monk who preaches the sutra. Now the goddess who should have come forward this week is Sri, that it would say the goddess of wealth and prosperity. In the sutra, chapter eight, the chapter on Sri follows immediately after chapter seven, the chapter on Sarasvati. However, she, that it is a Sri, will be coming forward next week when we deal with Buddhist economics. This week, it is Gridhar, the earth goddess who comes forward. Because so far as these lectures are concerned, it's more appropriate to deal with the goddesses in this order, that it would say, first Sarasvati, then Gridhar, and finally Sri. Now, no disrespect, of course, is intended to the sutra. There's a definite reason why in the sutra, the three goddesses appear in the order that they don't. I'm not going to go into that tonight. Some of you may be able to work it out for yourself. They're also going to be one or two other changes tonight. Last week, I said quite a lot about the great goddess Sarasvati, quite a lot about her promise to protect the monk who preaches the sutra, but I said nothing about the monk himself. He remains simply an anonymous figure from the goddess promises to protect. So tonight, I shall have quite a lot to say about Gridhar, the earth goddess, but I also intend to say something about the monk who preaches the sutra, the monk who is the medium for the transmission of the golden knight. Not only that, I intend to say something about the golden light itself, just at least a few words. So tonight, we shall really be concerned with three themes of three topics. We'll be concerned in the first place with Gridhar, the earth goddess. Secondly, with the monk who preaches the sutra, and thirdly, with the golden light. Or, in the terms of the title of tonight's lecture, we'll be concerned with, first of all, nature. Secondly, man. Thirdly, enlightenment. However, just to make things a little more difficult, not to say a little more complicated, we'll not be concerned with them in that order. We're going to deal first with Gridhar, the earth goddess, or mother nature, then with the golden light, or enlightenment, and finally with the monk who preaches the sutra. That would say with man. But first, we have to look at the sutra itself. Have to look at chapter 10, the chapter on Gridhar. We must see what the sutra has to say about her, what it has to say about her promise. The chapter begins, chapter 10 begins, rather abruptly, then indeed the earth goddess Gridhar spoke thus to the Lord. That would say to the Buddha. Not once, we notice something. Chapter eight, the chapter on Sri, begins in exactly the same way. Then indeed, the great goddess Sri, spoke thus to the Lord. But chapter seven, the chapter on Saraswati, does not begin like this. So how does it begin? I wonder if anybody remembers from last week. How does it begin? Well, in case you've forgotten, it begins, then indeed Saraswati, the great goddess, covered one shoulder with her robe, placed her right knee on the ground, made the gesture of reverence in the direction of the Lord, and spoke thus to the Lord. So what's the difference? Sri, the goddess of wealth, and Gridhar, the earth goddess, do not salute the Buddha before speaking. But Saraswati, does. As do the four great kings, as does Sanghnaya, the great general of the youngsters in chapter 11. So what does the difference signify? Perhaps it signifies that Sri and Gridhar are naturally less amenable to the influence of the golden light than is Saraswati. In other words, that it is more difficult to transform the world of economics and the world of nature than it is to transform the world of culture. I hope this doesn't sound too far-fetched, or too fanciful, but there surely is a meaning to be discovered in many of the minor details of the sutra. However, let us proceed. Those she dispenses with a salutation, Gridhar nonetheless makes her promise. And it's a long and beautiful promise. So what does she say? She says quite a number of things. I'll mention only some of the more important. First of all, she promises to come wherever the sutra is expanded. She promises to be present, wherever the sutra is, expanded. She says she will be there. Not only that, she says she will go up to the dharma seat. That would say the seat on which the monk who is preaching the sutra is sitting. She will go up, she says, with her invisible body, a saddle, invisible body. And she will lean with her head upon the soles of the feet of the monk who is preaching the dharma. That would say preaching, the sutra of golden light. So the monk, we're not told this, but the monk is presumably seated across legged. Seated on one of these rather high raised dharma seats on one of these rather high throne-like seats, very nearly the height of a man, such as are still used even today or at least until yesterday in Tibet. So the goddess goes up to this throne, we have to imagine this dharma seat. She bows her head slightly and she places it against the soles of the monk's feet. It could be, of course, that the monk is to be imagined sitting in European fashion as though in a chair. And in this case, the goddess would stand placing her head directly beneath his feet. We mustn't forget that she's not present in her gross physical body, so she doesn't have to stand on the surface of the earth. In either case, we're reminded of a well-known episode from the life of the Buddha, an episode that occurred shortly before he gained full enlightenment. You may remember that the Buddha had seated himself on the Vajrasana, that it would say the diamond seat or the diamond throne. That Vajrasana, that diamond seat or diamond throne, is regarded in Buddhist tradition as the symbolic center of the universe. It's the seat on which all Buddhas sit, the spot on which all Buddhas sit when they gain enlightenment. It's the spot on which all the previous Buddhas sat when they gained enlightenment. Through there, the Buddha seated himself. He knew that his time had come. He knew that his hour had come, that he was going to attain enlightenment, that very night. So he seated himself on that spot. Seated himself at the center of the universe, on the diamond seat, the diamond throne. So then what happened? What happened was that Mara appeared. Mara, the evil one, who'd been dogging him, who'd been following him, from the very moment that he left home, from the very moment that he'd left the group. Mara had been following him in his own words, trying to find a way, trying to find a way into the Buddha's mind. So there he was, on that occasion. And he asked the Buddha what right he had to sit. On that spot. What right he had to take his seat on the diamond throne. As if to say, "How do you know you're going to gain enlightenment?" So the Buddha said that he had the right to sit there, because he practiced the paramitas, he practiced the perfections for innumerable lives. He practiced generosity, ethics, patience, energy, meditation, wisdom, he practiced them all. Not once, but many, many times. Not even in hundreds, but in thousands, in tens of thousands of lives. So he was ready to gain enlightenment. He had the right to take his seat on the diamond throne. So Mara said, "Well, it's all very well to talk like that. It's all very well for you to make these claims. Do you practice the paramitas?" But after all, who saw you? Who saw you doing all these wonderful things? Who saw you practicing the paramitas? So not only that, Mara said, "Who is your witness?" He demanded a witness. So the Buddha said, "The earth is my witness." All these actions of mine, all these deeds of mine, have been performed on the face of the earth. So the earth has seen, the earth goddess has seen. So the Buddha just touched or rather tapped the earth with the tips of the fingers of his right hand. And at once, the earth goddess, we are told, rose up out of the depths of the earth. And she bore witness. She said, "Yes, I have seen it all. I have seen him, not yet the Buddha, the Bodhisattva, practicing all these paramitas. Therefore, he is worthy to take his seat on the diamond throne." So the earth goddess, as she rises up, is usually depicted in Buddhist art as a beautiful woman of mature appearance, not particularly young without being actually old. And she's golden brown or dark green in color. And she's usually represented with only the upper half of her body emerged from the earth, just like Mother Ereda in Wagner's The Ring. And her hands are clasped in salutation. Occasionally, just occasionally, she's depicted or described as standing beside or beneath the Vajrasana, with her head placed against the souls of the Buddhist feet, just as the earth goddess is described in the sutra, the sutra golden light, in relation to the monk who preaches the sutra. But in whichever way she's depicted, in which several ways she's described, the significance is clear. The earth goddess is subordinated to the Buddha, subordinated to the monk who preaches the sutra. And this point is emphasized further by the symbolism of head and feet. The earth goddess places her head against the souls of the monk's feet. According to the ancient Indians, including the ancient Indian Buddhists, the head is the noblest, most worthy part of the whole body. The head is called in Pali and Sanskrit, Utama Anga, which means the superior limb or superior member. The feet, on the other hand, are the most ignoble and unworthy part, because after all the ancient India, people went barefoot. Their feet were often very dirty. So if you wanted to show respect for someone, you placed your head in contact with their feet. In other words, you've subordinated what was highest in you to what is lowest in them, because if they were truly superior to you, this would be the only way in which real contact between you could be established, the only way in which you could make yourself truly receptive to whatever they had to give. We find the same kind of symbolism when we visualize vajra sattva, the bodhisattva or Buddha, vajra sattva seated above our heads. But again, when we visualize the line of gurus seated, one on top of another, again above our heads, we make ourselves receptive to their spiritual influence by aligning ourselves with them vertically. As many of you know, it's still the custom in India to touch the feet of holy men, or first you touch their feet with one's fingers, and then with the same fingers, touch one's own head. The idea is that you take dust from their feet and you place it on your head. And many Indians show respect, not only to holy men, but to parents, elders, and even secular teachers in the same way. And in the Buddhist countries, we find much the same custom. The only difference is that in the terravada countries, there's no actual physical contact. What happens is that the lay people salute the monks, the monks salute the senior monks, their own teachers, first by kneeling down and then touching the ground in front of their feet with their own forehead. The principle, of course, is the same. Now in India and in the Buddhist countries of the East, there are quite a number of customs connected with heads and feet. We don't always realize this. For instance, one should never touch the head of someone whom you regard as superior to yourself. And above all, you should never touch his head with your feet. This would be regarded in the Buddhist East as a sort of reversal of the natural order of things. In the same way, you should never sit with your feet stretched out, pointing in the direction of anyone whom you consider superior, not in the direction, for instance, of a Buddha image, especially in the shrine. Such behavior would be considered grossly disrespectful and insensitive. There are many other customs, but it's time we pass to on. So the earth goddess has promised to lean with her head against the souls of the feet of the monk who is preaching the dharma. So what else does she promise? She promises that she will feed on the nectar juice of the dharma. Then to say she promises that she will derive spiritual nourishment from the dharma, spiritual nourishment from the golden light. She promises that she will do homage, that she will rejoice, that she will increase the savour of the earth. She will make the earth stronger so that trees, flowers, fruits, crops will be made stronger. Not only stronger, but more tasty, more beautiful, and more abundant. She promises all this. Not only that, the fact that the fruits and so on, that the earth produces are more tasty, more beautiful, more abundant, will affect the people who live on these things. They will increase, she says, their longevity, their strength, their complexion, and senses. And they will then perform the numerous hundreds of thousands of activities appropriate to the earth. They will be devoted, she says. They will be thorough. They will do acts that have to be done with power. Thus, the whole of jambudvipa will become peaceful and prosperous. People will be happy. They will be endowed, she says, with brilliance, power, complexion, and form, and their thoughts will then turn to the sutra of golden light. They will approach members of the spiritual community, will approach them with a pure mind, and they will ask them to expound the sutra. And when the sutra is being expounded, she herself, the earth goddess Brida, together with her retinue, will become stronger and more powerful. The words she uses are almost the same as those used by the four great kings. She says, in our body, there will be produced great power, fortitude, and strength. Brilliant, glory, and fortitude will enter our body. She will be satisfied, she says, with the next reduce of the dharma. And the earth will increase its savour, will become stronger. People who are dependent on the earth will increase and grow. They will experience various pleasures, various enjoyments. So everybody should be grateful to the earth, grateful to the earth goddess who has made all these things possible. They should also listen to the sutra, should listen to it respectfully. When they've listened to it, they'll talk about it. They'll rejoice that they've heard the dharma, rejoice that they've acquired merit, rejoice that they've pleased the Buddhists. They will also rejoice that they've escaped rebirth in lower states, that it is a rebirth in hell as an animal in the world of yamma and among the hungry ghosts. They will rejoice, she says, that they're assured of rebirth among gods and men. Not only that, the goddess hopes that, after hearing the sutra, people will tell their friends and neighbors about it. We'll tell them whatever they remember of its teaching. When they do this, the earth will become stronger. People will become stronger. They'll be blessed. They'll have great wealth and great enjoyment. But they will be devoted to liberality, to dharma. They'll have faith in the free duels. So what do we see here? We see a sort of circular movement in the goddess's promise. First, the sutra of golden light is preached. This nourish is the earth goddess. So nourished, she increases the savor and strength of the earth. When the people who live on the earth, therefore become stronger and more prosperous. Because they're stronger and more prosperous, they become happy. Because they're happy, they want to hear the sutra preached. When the sutra is preached, the goddess is nourished. When the goddess is nourished, she makes the earth stronger. And once again, the whole process is repeating. Now it's not surprising that the goddess's promise should take this circular form, this circular pattern. After all, the goddess is the earth goddess. She is nature. She is even mother nature. And nature's activity is essentially seasonal, is essentially cyclical. The earth goddess, therefore, represents change. Mutability, especially cyclical change. She represents the cyclical process of action and reaction between opposites. She is conditioned existence. She is the samsara. She is the wheel of life. However, we're going a little too fast. We'll deal with all that in a minute. We're not yet finished with the chapter, not yet finished with Riddha's promise. You'll probably have noticed that in the course of her promise, the goddess repeats the circular pattern three times. But each time it's repeated on a slightly higher level. At the end of the first repetition, people listen to the sutra of golden light. At the end of the second repetition, they tell others about it. At the end of the third repetition, they develop faith in the three jewels. The goddess's head touches the Buddha's feet, touches the feet of the preacher of the dharma. In other words, the circular movement is not completely circular. The circle is trying to become a spiral. In a sense, it is a spiral. But it is not a true spiral. On the true spiral, the true spiral path, that it is saying, progress is irreversible. This spiral is reached when we pass the point of no return, when we achieve stream entry. On the true circle, there's no progress. That it is saying, no permanent spiritual progress, no transcendental progress. But in between the two, in between the true spiral and the true circle, comes the section of the path with which we're now concerned. On that section, spiritual progress does take place, but that progress is not irreversible. We can still fall back into the circle, into that is to say, the true circle can still fall back into a state in which we simply go round and round without making any progress at all. Now, we may remember from last week that in chapter 7, the great goddess Sarasvati promises that the monks, nuns, laymen, and laywomen who hold the chief sutras, including the sutra of golden light, will escape from the cycle of existence. But the goddess Dritar makes no such promise. She can only promise that beings will escape rebirth in the lower realms, that they will be reborn among gods and men, that they will have faith in the three jewels. She can't even promise that they will go for refuge. The earth goddess has her limitations. Nature can take us only so far. This is borne art by the remainder of the chapter. After Dritar has made her promise, the Buddha speaks. He says that those who hear even a single verse of the sutra of golden light will be reborn among a group of 33 gods and other groups of gods. He says those who show honor to the sutra in various ways will be reborn in heavenly palaces, made of the seven jewels. They'll be reborn seven times in each palace, and they'll experience inconceivable heavenly blessings. Dritar then speaks again. She repeats her promise. She prays that beings may continue to hear the sutra, that they may continue to experience inconceivable divine and human pleasures. Finally, she prays that they may awaken to supreme perfect enlightenment. But this is only a prayer. It is not a promise. It's a prayer which she sees as being fulfilled in the infinitely remote future. From the standpoint of the natural order, enlightenment is seen as a far off divine event, not as a practicable possibility here and now. With this prayer, chapter 10, the chapter on the Earth goddess, Dritar concludes. Now, I've not said much about the Earth goddess, but you've probably been able to gather some idea of what she is like from what I have said. But I want to say just a little more about her before passing on to consider the golden light. Also, a little more about the significance of her promise. On the whole in the sutra, she is rather a shadowy figure. As we saw last week, the sutra contains a vivid description of the great goddess Sarasvati in the form of a hymn of praise. But there's no corresponding hymn to Dritar. Similarly, the ritual worship of Sarasvati was described. The ritual worship of the great goddess Sri is also described as we shall see next week. But there's no description of the ritual worship of Dritar. She remains shadowy, amorphous, unrecognized. In modern Hindu India, there's much the same sort of situation. Sarasvati is a highly popular goddess. She's worshipped all over India, especially by scholars, writers, students, as we saw last week. And Sri, or Lakshmi, is no less popular. If anything, she's even more popular than Sarasvati, even more widely worshipped. She's worshipped to begin with by all the householders, especially by shopkeepers, businessmen, financiers, and speculators in stocks and shares. They all worship Sri. They all worship Lakshmi. Other goddesses are also worshipped. The durga, the ten-armed slayer of the buffalo demon. Then there's Kali, the black one, who dances on the prostrate corpse of her husband, Shiva, who wears a garland of freshly severed heads, and whose red tongue hangs out and whose mouth drips with blood. There's also Sitala, the dreaded goddess of smallpox. All these goddesses are worshipped by millions of people in India. They all have their shrines. They have their images. They have their priests. But Dritar is not worshipped. She has no shrine, no image, no priests. But the omission is more apparent than real. In a sense, all goddesses are earth goddesses. Just as all gods are sky gods. Dritar is perhaps the original Indian earth goddess, not to say earth matter, before her various functions became differentiated. She is paralleled, to some extent at least, by similar figures in other lands, other cultures, by Rhea and Demeter in ancient Greece, by Isis and Hator in Egypt, by Ishtar in Babylonia, by Diana of the Ephesians, with her rose of breasts, and by Ereda or Hirtha in northern Europe. Also by Malinci among the Mexicans. She's more closely paralleled, perhaps, by the various anonymous, neolithic figures, the so-called neolithic venuses. Figures with enormous breasts and buttocks, with enormous wombs, but with only rudimentary heads. Like them, perhaps, Dritar represents the primitive reality behind the more sophisticated appearance, that is to say, the more sophisticated appearance represented by some of the other goddesses. But be that as it may, Dritar is not only a Moshshadui figure, than Sarswati or Shri. She's also much less human. I've said that the three goddesses represent three different departments of human activity, that their promises to protect the sutra represent transformations of these departments. Transformations achieved through placing them at the service of the golden light. But in the case of Dritar, this is only partly true. Her promise to protect the preacher of the sutra therefore has a somewhat different significance, a more complex significance. Those human energies, which are part of nature, can be placed at the service of the golden light. They can be transformed. But nature herself cannot be placed at the service of the golden light. Nature herself cannot be transformed. All that we can transform is our attitude to nature. And that is sufficient. Our attitude to nature can be considered under three headings. First of all, our use of nature, that it is a of natural resources and the environment. Secondly, the appreciation of nature, or enjoyment of nature. And thirdly, the understanding of nature. I'll say just a few words about each of these in turn, and then proceeds to the golden light. First of all, our use of nature. In the first place, use of nature means use of natural resources. And nowadays, we hear a great deal about this. The word ecology, for instance, is very much in the air. We are being warned that certain natural resources are finite. And that we are using them all up at an alarming rate. More often than not, not only using them up at an alarming rate, but using them in the most wasteful fashion. So Buddhists, those who try to follow the dharma should be very aware of this, and should try to use everything of natural origin very carefully indeed. Not only that, but use as little of it as is possible, and use it more over in the best possible way, that would say for the benefit, the true benefit of self and others. The same principle applies to our use of the natural environment. We shouldn't destroy it or spoil it in any way, as, for instance, through pollution. And above all, we should think carefully before bringing about irreversible changes. Now, all this has become the commonplace of informed and responsible thinking. There's no need for me to elaborate. I'm only concerned to underline the general principle involved. I'd like to say that the right use of nature is part of the spiritual life. But I would like to make specific mention of one particular misuse of nature. One that will be of special interest to all Buddhists, and that is the pollution of the environment by noise. One might even say the desecration of the environment by noise. Nowadays, there is far too much noise, especially in big cities. But even little villages are not exempt. Even in little villages, the jet planes rip through the air overhead, and the 30-tonne articulated lorries thunder through the tiny main street. And under such circumstances, life becomes very difficult. And in particular, meditation becomes very difficult. So Buddhists should be particularly aware of such problems and should do whatever they can to reduce noise. Even give active support to organizations working to this end. Secondly, appreciation of nature or enjoyment of nature. This represents, we may say, the aesthetic attitude to nature, even the contemplative attitude to nature. Here, there's no question of using nature. There's no question of doing anything with nature. You leave nature alone. You simply look at nature. You simply see nature. Here, nature is simply appreciated for her own sake. Enjoy it for her own sake. Whether we're looking at a mountain, whether we're looking at the vast expanse of the sea, or whether we're looking at a tiny flower or just at a grain of fat. This sort of appreciation of nature is comparatively new in the West. In England, for instance, it became at all general, only with the romantic poets, especially with words within college. And their time, of course, was the time of the industrial revolution, when there was a great upsurge of utilitarianism, when nature became used and misused more than ever before, perhaps in history. So perhaps the emphasis which they gave on the appreciation of nature, the appreciation of natural beauty, was necessary to restore the balance. And that emphasis is still needed, especially by those who are trying to develop spiritually. There's no need to idealize nature or romanticize nature, much less still to sentimentalize it, as even words with some claims did. But there's no doubt that the appreciation of nature, especially with great natural beauty, can play an important part in the spiritual life. It can have a very soothing, a very tranquilizing effect, even a restorative effect. We find this when we go away on retreat in the country. We find it even when we go out for a walk in the park on a fine afternoon. Thirdly, understanding of nature. This understanding is not scientific. It's not even philosophical. Essentially, it's a spiritual understanding. And it consists in seeing nature as she really is. I've already touched on this. Nature is seasonal. Nature is cyclic. Nature is, therefore, samsara. Nature is the wheel of life. Not as a static picture painted on a wall, but as a living, perpetually recurrant process. This process has no beginning. It's one of the axioms of Buddhism, one of the basic things, as it were seen, by the Buddhist spiritual vision, that samsara has no beginning, or rather, that it has no perceptible beginning. It's important to understand this. In the West, we're accustomed to thinking of everything as having a definite beginning. It must have begun sometime, or other, even nature itself, even mundane existence itself. Must have a beginning in time, or at least a beginning with time. Christians, for instance, have traditionally believed that the world, the universe, had a definite beginning when God created it out of nothing. They used to give, rather confidently, the date as 2004 BC, but this date has since been revised. But this, they did say that things had a beginning. The things were created at a certain time as it were, which is not the Buddhist view. According to Buddhism, nature has no perceptible beginning. Samsara has no perceptible beginning. And the operative word here is perceptible. Where there is a perceiving subject, there is an object. They did say there is a world. The subject, therefore, cannot perceive the beginning of the world, cannot perceive the beginning of the samsara. The subject, the perceiving subject, can only go back and back in time indefinitely. It can perceive a relative beginning. It can perceive a relative ain't. But it cannot perceive an absolute beginning. It cannot perceive an absolute ain't. It can perceive the beginning of a particular world, of a particular universe. But before that, it'll perceive another world, another universe, before that another, and so on. And according to Buddhist teaching, universes evolve over a period of many, many millions of years. They evolve from a subtle state to a gross state. And when they reach the height of their development, the opposite process sets in. That would say the process of involution. That would say involution from a gross state to a subtle state. And this also takes many, many millions of years. Thus, there are periods of expansion and periods of contraction. There are breathing in and breathing out of the cosmos, just like the breathing of the human body, the breathing of the human lungs, except that these cosmic inhalations and cosmic expirations take millions of years. So the samsara is cyclic. Condition existence is cyclic. But we must be careful that we don't become too abstract, not too remote after all. We are still dealing with nature. In fact, we're dealing with the Earth goddess. Now the Earth is not only cyclic, not only seasonal. It's also cold, also dark. It has no heat of its own, no light of its own. Nevertheless, it receives heat. It receives light. So where does it receive them from? It receives them from outside itself. It receives them from the principle, which is the opposite to the Earth. Not only opposite to the Earth, but higher than the Earth. If we think in terms of the Earth, this higher principle is heaven. If we think in terms of nature, this higher principle is enlightenment. If we think in terms of the changing, this principle is the unchanging. If we think in terms of the conditioned, this principle is the unconditioned. If we think in terms of the mundane, this principle is the transcendental. If we think in terms of samsara, this principle is nirvana. If we think in terms of darkness, this principle is light. And if we think in terms of bridha, the Earth goddess, this principle is the golden light, the light of truth, the light of reality, the light of the Buddha, the light which is the truth, is reality, is the Buddha. It's this same principle which the Buddha refers to in your dana. When he says, there is monks and unborn and unbecome and unmade and uncompounded if monks. They were not here, this unborn, unbecome, unmade, uncompounded. They would not here be an escape from the born to become the mate, the compounded. But because there is an unborn, an unbecome, an unmade, an uncompounded, therefore there is an escape from the born to become the mate, the compounded. We thus have two principles. We have the compounded and the uncompounded, the conditioned and the un-conditioned samsara and nirvana. Or in terms of the present lecture, we have nature and enlightenment, the bridha, the Earth goddess, and the golden light. These two principles are separate and independent, at least within the subject-object framework. The one cannot be derived from the other, cannot be reduced to the other. Samsara is without perceptible, beginning in time. There's no point, therefore, at which it is connected with nirvana as its effect. Nirvana is beyond time altogether, even as it is beyond a space. So there's no point, no point in time at which it is connected with samsara as its cause. Spiritual life consists in making the transition from one principle to the other, from samsara to nirvana, from nature to enlightenment, from the conditioned to the un-conditioned. It consists in abandoning the ignoble quest for the noble quest, an aria pariesina for aria pariesina. To quote the words of the historical Buddha, shark pneumonia again, it consists in the conditioned pursuing the unconditioned, not the conditioned pursuing the conditioned. But who is it that makes the transition? Who is it that achieves the noble quest? It is man. It is the monk who is the preacher of the sutra, that it would say the sutra of golden light. As I said at the beginning of the lecture, the monk who is the preacher of the sutra is an anonymous figure. In three chapters, a goddess comes forward and promises to protect the monk who preaches the sutra. But nothing, whatever, is said about the monk, at least not in these chapters. It's as though he is simply a hook on which the goddess is hanging their vows, hang their promises. However, something is said about him in chapter 13, the chapter on Sussambhava. Or rather, something is said about a preacher of the sutra, a monk called Ratnochaya. In this chapter, the Buddha himself is speaking. He's speaking about his previous lives. He says that there was once a king called Sussambhava, which means happily born, or born of happiness. And he was the ruler of all four continents. And one night, he had a dream. In his dream, he saw the monk Ratnochaya. The name Ratnochaya, incidentally, means dual heap, or precious accumulation. The king saw him shining in the midst of the sun. Apparently, he was brighter, even than the sun. And he was expounding the sutra of golden light. And on waking up, on waking up from his dream, the king felt extremely happy. And he went to see the Buddha's disciples. And he inquired after Ratnochaya. Ratnochaya, at that time, was elsewhere. He was sitting in a cave. He was studying and reflecting on the sutra of golden light. So the disciples took the king to Ratnochaya. The king worshipped Ratnochaya. And we are told he worshipped his feet. And he invites him to expound the sutra of golden light. And Ratnochaya agrees to do this. So the king very joyfully makes all the appropriate preparations. And Ratnochaya expounds the sutra. The king needless to say is greatly impressed, greatly moved. He's so impressed, so moved, that he sheds tears of joy. And eventually, he presents all his possessions, all his property. He presents with all the four continents filled with jewels to the order, to the order of Rassna Sikkim, who was the Buddha, at that time. The Buddha, Sharkimuni, then reveals that he himself was Sutra's mother. And that the Buddha, Akshopya, was Ratnochaya. So here, something at least, is said about the preacher of the sutra. What about a preacher of the sutra? And what is said underlines one particular point. The preacher of the sutra is always a monk. Always a bhikshu. The great goddess Sarasvati promises to protect the monk who pleases the sutra. The earth goddess Bhridhar promises to protect the monk who pleases the sutra, as does the great goddess Shri, as we shall see next week. So this raises two questions. What is a monk? And why should a monk, in particular, be the preacher of the sutra? Now, we must remember that the sutra of golden light is a Mahayana sutra. And the Mahayana invariably attaches more importance to the spirit than to the letter of the Buddhist teaching. Though this does not mean that it ignores or neglects the letter. In the same way, in the same spirit, it attaches more importance to the realities of the spiritual life than it does through the appearances of the spiritual life. For the Mahayana, therefore, the monk is not just one who observes certain minor disciplinary precepts, not someone who shaves his head and wears a yellow rope. Though he may, of course, also do these things. These things are not excluded. The monk, according to the Mahayana, is one who is totally committed to the spiritual life, totally committed to his personal spiritual development, totally committed to the noble quest, the quest for the unconditioned. I'm committed to it, not for his own sake only, but for the sake of all living beings. The Mahayana monk is, therefore, a Bodhisattva. At least in intention is a Bodhisattva, even if the Bodhisattva has not actually arisen. Now, you cannot be totally committed unless you are free. Only a free man can commit himself. You cannot be totally committed unless you are free from all mundane ties, all mundane responsibilities. So what are the two biggest mundane ties? The two biggest mundane responsibilities. So far, as a man, at least, is concerned, they are first a wife and family and two wage-earning work. And the two, of course, usually go together. The monk, therefore, is celibate. They do to say he is unmarried. He has no wife, no children, no family ties, no family responsibilities. The English word monk means one who is on his own, one who is single, solitary, alone. But this does not necessarily mean that he is a hermit. He may, in fact, be living as a member of a spiritual community, may be living as a member of a monastic community. The fact that he is alone, the fact that he is a monk, means that it does not belong to any mundane group, not belong to any group that is held together by purely mundane ties of blood, emotional dependence, or common worldly interests. Within the spiritual community, one can be alone, and one can be with others. Within the group, however, one is neither alone, nor with others. The monk has also no worldly occupation. He's not gainfully employed. He doesn't work for a living. He doesn't make anything. He doesn't produce anything. He doesn't earn anything. Economically speaking, he is a parasite. He's a spiritual, one might even say, a glorious spiritual parasite. He depends for food and clothing and so on on others, as we shall be seen in the course of next week's lecture. So the monk is one who leads a purely spiritual life, who's totally committed to spiritual life, who has no worldly ties, no worldly responsibilities. The monk therefore lives what some of the old Christian writers called the angelic life. Monks live as it were in heaven. They live like angels. In heaven, there's neither marriage nor giving in marriage, no plowing or sewing or reeking. So the monastic life is, therefore, the happy life. And I can testify to this from my own experience and observation, at least so far as Buddhist monks, I can say, I can't answer for the others. In fact, I've no hesitation in saying that monastic life is the best and happiest of all lives. In India, I not only lived as a monk myself, I had contact with monks of many different schools and many different nationalities. Terevada monks and Mahayana monks, zen monks, nishurin monks, gilukpah monks, ningmah pah monks. Some were sinnerlies, some were Burmese. There were ties. Vietnamese, Cambodians, Laotians, Chinese, Tibetans, Nepalese. And what was one thing that one noticed about them? They were all noticeably more happy than the lay people, even more happy than the Buddhist lay people. The Buddhist lay people were happy enough in all consciences compared with the Hindus. But the Buddhist monks were even happier than the Buddhist lay people. Now you might think this odd. After all the lay people had wives, children, jobs, money, motor cars, all conceivable pleasures and enjoyments, et cetera. But more often than not one saw, they looked quite miserable. The monks usually had none of these things. Most monks, indeed, the time match, the time you owned little more than their robes, their begging ball, and a few books. Maybe a fountain painter, even the odd camera. And many of them took no solid food after midday at all. After midday they took only tea. Some of them were so strict they didn't even take milk in their tea. Yet they were all remarkably happy, remarkably contented, and remarkably friendly. It was really a joy to be with them. However, I won't say anything more. I might get carried away by the flood of reminiscences. I might even want to go back to India. Anyway, I hope that you now have some idea of what a monk is. That is to say, a real monk, a real picture, not just someone who has formally received monastic ordination. The monk is one who is totally committed to the spiritual life, who has no worldly ties or worldly responsibilities, who is celibate. That it is, say, unmarried without wife and children, who does not work for a living, who is supported by others, who receives food and clothing and so on from others. Moreover, the monk is one who leads an angelic life, who is happy. In other words, the monk is one who has made the transition from the conditioned to the unconditioned, from samsara to nirvana, from nature to enlightenment, or who is very definitely in process of making that transition. The monk is one who has at least set out on the noble quest. But of course, it's not easy to make the transition from the conditioned to the unconditioned. It's not easy to leave samsara behind, however miserable. It's not easy to give up the world. After all, samsara is not only outsiders. The world is not only outsiders. They are also within us. Man is a being with a dual nature. On the one hand, he is the child of earth. On the other is the offspring of heaven. He is part of nature. But at the same time, he transcends nature. He feels the gravitational pull of the conditioned. He also feels the gravitational pull of the unconditioned. So man is a being in conflict, in conflict with himself, in conflict within himself. We may even go to say, go to far as to say, that man is a battleground. He's a battleground of opposing forces. Does a great battle taking place in man himself? The forces of nature are fighting, as it were, with the forces of enlightenment. To read how the earth got us with the golden light. So the monk is one in whom this conflict has been resolved, in whom this battle has been won. The monk is one whose natural energies have submitted to the golden light. Are completely at the service of the golden light. The monk is one who, in Christian phraseology, has overcome the work. So it's obvious now why the monk is the preacher of the sutra. The preacher of the sutra of golden light is obvious why the earth goddess places her head against the souls of his fate. Only he can be the preacher of the sutra of golden light, who has identified himself with the golden light. The monk has made the transition from the conditioned to the unconditioned, from samsara to nirvana, from nature to enlightenment, or is in process of making it. He has identified himself with the golden light, become, as it were, one with the golden light, at least to some extent. So he's able to be the preacher of the sutra of golden light. Ultimately, of course, it is the Buddha himself who is the preacher of the sutra. It is the Buddha himself who is protected. Nowadays, unfortunately, we may say, the earth goddess has got out of control. Nature has got out of control. Not, of course, nature outside man, except so far as this has been disturbed by man himself. It's nature inside man that has got out of control. It's the natural human energies that have got out of control. The conditioned pursues the conditioned relentlessly. Hardly anyone pursues the unconditioned. Emphasis is almost exclusively on material values. But if civilization is not to collapse, if mankind is not to destroy itself, even, there must be a very, very much stronger emphasis on spiritual values. There must be a revival of spiritual life. And by spiritual life, I mean real spiritual life, not just the old conventional religiosity, which we have or should have outgrown. What we need, in fact, we may say, is an uncompromising assertion of the monastic ideal in a twist and best sense. What we really need are more monks, more preachers of the sutra of golden light, more people who understand the true relation between nature, man, and enlightenment. We hope you enjoyed this week's podcast. Please help us keep this free. Make a contribution at freebuddhistaudio.com/donate. And thank you. [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [ Silence ]
