Dear Chant For Happiness Readers,
There is perhaps no greater happiness than an occasion to honor one's debt of gratitude towards a mentor in Buddhism. A Buddhist mentor
is perhaps the most honorable person in one's life because they give us the means by which we can attain absolute happiness and
develop indestructible life strength that endures from lifetime to lifetime, throughout eternity, the cause of a permanent, positive upward spiral
that makes the heart dance for joy, even when there's no apparent reason to do so.
Jamie is just such such a mentor in my life.
Some of you may remember me from an earlier post here on Chant For Happiness. Jamie Silver Shakubuked me "with her life."
When Jamie first talked to me about the practice we discussed how it worked. Over a decade later when I saw her again she didn't have to say a thing about Buddhism, because her life spoke for itself. The changes were unmistakable and I realized I had to start chanting right away.
I received the Gohonzon nearly two years ago now. The benefits of chanting have been mounting for me lately. Most notably, as of this week, I have not only received
clarity about my mission I have been chanting for since 2012 began, but also, concrete actual proof that has literally enthralled even my skeptical husband.
I grew up in a very competitive culture in New York City where the arts were something you did as a child, "lessons" and the like, but were not considered something one should pursue into adulthood. In my case, this was not a source of conscious pain or sadness because I had not yet developed enough of my talent to realize what I was missing.
I became a therapist and a published author, a yoga instructor and healer. This all felt wonderful to me as I was helping other people, which has always been a passion of mine, and
reveling in a life of accomplishment. But deep down inside I was not happy. In fact, not only was I unhappy, I was getting sicker and sicker until finally the stress of my
life landed me on the "permanently disabled" list.
When I first came down with the acute symptoms of CFS/Fibromyalgia/Chronic Lyme disease, I cracked up. I felt I had committed myself to a worthy spiritual and productive
life--how could it have failed me so miserably? I was sick all over, and I mean all over, and further more, I felt like an epic failure. A healer who gets sick? Who wants to be one of those?
Jamie chanted for me throughout several years of acute illness. I now realize that this, combined with the little spates of Daimoku I had chanted with her
over the years, is what enabled me to begin a sincere transformation of poison into medicine in my life. Before I became a Nichiren Buddhist, music took on something
of the role of spiritual practice in the vacuum of my life as a chronically disabled person. However, as I have learned, there is no practice like the correct practice of chanting Nam Myoho Renge Kyo , and though music
filled my life with meaning, goals, breakthroughs and eventually a community of others similarly devoted to self perfection in the service of its craft,
music on its own did not bring me happiness and fulillment. In fact, it was something of "nectar in a sieve" by which Aristotle defined hedonism.
As an adult learner, I always felt physically awkward with
my instrument. A severe case of TMJ made singing
physically unpleasant and downright frustrating.
proficient, against these odds, and with tons of patient support from my husband, Cliff, who was also my principal music teacher, I found my new role as rhythm guitarist for our duo very challenging. My husband, a powerful improvisational player, would speed up during his solos and I would be left holding on for dear life as the tunes we played became too fast to enjoy, in my case, and I felt the sensuality and nobility of strong music eluded me.
All of this changed forever for me this week and this is why I am writing. I have had the "big breakthrough" and there is not a shadow of a doubt about it. Music is my Dharma.
I now see even my disability has been part of my mission all along. Let me back up first in order to go forwards...
About ten years ago, towards the end of my tenure as a therapist in private practice I was waiting in line to pay for my car at the Ellis-O'Farrell garage in downtown San Francisco, near Union Square. I was wearing my guitar in a back-pack over a cashmere prayer shawl my husband, Cliff, had bought in India. The woman behind me tapped me on the shoulder and asked me where I was playing. "in my office between clients" was my answer.
She said, "Oh," then added, "I'm a psychic and I was reading your aura while we were in line and I definitely saw that you are a healer who works through your music, and I wanted very much to come out and hear you sing."
I laughed and thanked her, but told her I only played for myself as a kind of centering between counseling clients. I was no where near comfortable enough with what I was doing to even imagine singing/playing solo (without Cliff) let alone heal anyone by doing so.
I felt she must have misread me, that it must have been the prayer shawl, but I never forgot the event. And now that I am writing you I am realizing its significance.
I struggled so much with my singing due to jaw and breathing problems over the years, and hand problems from playing guitar, that this summer, in despair, I told Cliff I was
just too sick to continue with music. The symptoms of peri-menopause on top of my chronic condition was making the whole thing just too difficult. Shows were leaving me
drained and I was demoralized by my trouble commanding a strong enough rhythm to make us sound professional.
Cliff tried to argue against me, on my own behalf, ironically, but I would not have any of it. I decided it was just too painful to continue to struggle with so little satisfaction.
I inaugurated my second daimoku log and put in "Clarity about my mission for Kosen Rufu and profound strength" as my chanting goals, along with "faith like flowing water."
Well, just after my declaration to Cliff that I was giving up, inconspicuous benefit finally yielded to very conspicuous benefit, what we commonly call "miracles."
First, my insurance finally consented to cover treatment for my TMJ. And this only happened because a woman in the orthodontist's office who does such things went to war on my behalf. Her name, turns out, is "Charity." And yes, I gave her a NMHRK card!
Around this time I finally fully engraved into my life the Gosho that I first fell in love with when I received the Gohonzon, "A Sword will be useless in the hands of a Coward." Jamie had told me that this sounded to her like the Gosho that would guide me to happiness!
I realized, in tears one night before the Gohonzon that I wanted more than anything to sing beautifully! And with pleasure. And to feel myself developing dynamically as a musician. I began to chant lustily, passionately, as I never had before for anything. I let myself sob when necessary as I unblocked my heart from my true desire. My district leader here in Ukiah had told me "Every tear you cry in front of the Gohonzon will become a diamond in your life." This gave me the permission and the faith I needed to feel my feelings while praying, without any fear that I would be wallowing in my misery. And yes, the tears, each time, gave way to exalted states of real joy, even as they were still drying on my cheeks.
I began chanting for two hours a day. Sure enough, though he could make me no guarantee up front, my orthodontist (who turns out to be one of the nation's experts in resolving TMJ) has been more effective than I could have dreamed in changing not only my bite, but in releasing me from untold amounts of tension in my neck and shoulders, and all the way down my spine.
I wear my splint 14 hours a day, and even enjoy singing with it because it gives me incentive to open up my mouth more and more.
This was just the tip of the iceberg. Soon miracles and benefits began pouring in from all sides.
Next, the most amazing thing of all.
I began dancing for joy.
In every sense of the words. A pattern called a paradiddle that drummers use began insinuating itself into my hands and I began to be able to tap it out for longer and longer periods without messing up. I found myself doing it on the steering wheel of my car. And soon, on my legs, while I was chanting. To my surprise, the paradiddle matched
the interlocking cycles of Nam Myoho Renge Kyo, which is six beats, and comes out perfectly in time with the drumming pattern every second daimoku. Wow, what a feeling!
Soon I was on the internet listening to my favorite trad music jam band called "Donna the Buffalo" and drumming to the polyrhythmic beat of my favorite tunes. Then, and this is what gives me joy-goose-bumps even to write it, I began drumming (with shakers) on my hips, while dancing to the tunes, and as of last night, drumming, dancing, and SINGING... ALL at the SAME TIME!
Woooooohoooo. This is what I call "Dancing for Joy!" It's amazing. I am dancing to express the joy I feel at healing to this degree, and the dancing itself fires up deep stores of joy in my body. It feels wonderful! I began to feel much healthier too. How could I not?
Being this happy makes a person well. It's probably the only thing that really does. Happiness, that is.
I have LOVED my last two performances.
Completely different than EVERYTHING that has come before. Full of mystery and present moment satisfaction. Hearing my own voice with pleasure and having a talent scout come up to me and telling me I have "a golden voice, one like the honey that .... that...drips"
I kid you not. It truly happened that way.
I called Jamie last night and shared excitedly about what has happened here. I asked her if I could share it with all of you. She said, yes, and had even recently downloaded a wonderful photo of me singing with Cliff that someone posted just around the time all of this started happening for me.
Dance for joy!
May you all find the profound strength within your life to chant for your true mission. Its worth the wait. Nam Myoho Renge Kyo.
