TLDR: Templestay as a holiday destination? Why not? Kyle shares his experience in encountering Dhamma while on holiday in Korea.
Finding Your True Self: Let’s Unravel the Mystery
The slogan “Finding your True “Self” for the Templestay Program caught my eye when I saw the brochure at the airport. So what is this “self” that remains? Is it my mind, is it my memories, or is it something else?
As a Buddhist, I understand how this “self” is illusory and templestay seems like an excellent opportunity to discover who this “self” truly is.
Templestay is a unique opportunity for me to experience Korean Buddhism, its daily lifestyle, rituals and spirituality. What gets me excited is that you get to live like how a monk practices and engages in his daily monastic activities.
Determined to see the breathtaking temples I have read so much about, I bid farewell to my good friend, Eunbi who hosted me at her place, and went on a journey of discovering my inner “self”.
There are 3 main Buddhist temples in South Korea*, each representing one of the Triple Gems** of Buddhism (The Buddha, Dharma and Sangha).
I knew I wanted to do a temple stay in one of these 3 temples but which one?
Choosing the Perfect Temple: Decisions, Decisions!
At last, I chose to do the temple stay in Haeinsa because it is not everyday you get to stay in a World Heritage Site.
One of Korea’s most famous temples, Haeinsa Temple represented the Dharma as one of the three jewels.
It houses the Tripitaka (Buddhist Cannon), a collection of wooden printing blocks with Buddhist teachings from the 13th century. Hand carved into 81,258 woodblocks with no known mistakes, corrections or errors, it’s a genuinely amazing achievement.
Dating from the 13th century, the woodblocks have over 52 million characters, neatly organised into nearly 1,500 titles and 6,568 volumes in Hanja script.
Interestingly, it’s also the most complete version of the Buddhist scriptures that’s survived through into the present day. The Japanese, Chinese and Taiwanese Tripitakas are based on this Korean text.
Haesina Temple Cr: Gina Bear
Buddhism in Korea dates to the fourth century, so it’s no surprise that the religion has become a deeply rooted part of modern Korean culture. And with more than 900 traditional Buddhist temples, the country has no shortage of spiritual pilgrimage spots.
I took a bus from Seoul to Daegu and from there switched to another local bus close to the temple. After a long walk up and lugging my suitcase up to the temple surrounded by beautiful greenery, I arrived.
Gaining enlightenment is definitely not an easy feat! The nun at the reception welcomed me with her kind and friendly gesture. She checked me in and handed me the temple clothing I’m supposed to wear for the temple stay throughout.
Then, I was led into this ancient-looking and cosy bedroom. It’s so zen in this room, everything you need is basic but enough and the whole ambience really puts me at ease.
After getting changed, I decided to explore my surroundings.
Author in the temple wear
Haeinsa Temple: Where Dharma’s Beauty Shines
The temple is huge and divided into different sections or halls. I can’t help but to visit the building that houses the Tipitaka first.
The Tripitaka Koreana is housed inside Janggyeong Panjeon, a wooden structure of two buildings, Sudarajeon to the south and Beopjeong to the north.
The buildings are simple in design, without decoration, and their sole purpose is storing the wooden blocks.
The collection
For conservation reasons, I can’t go into the buildings to see the actual wooden block of the Buddhist teachings physically, but you can explore the buildings of the Janggyeong Panjeon which are equally impressive.
Once I got to read more about the steps in carving wooden blocks, it impressed me even more. To prevent the decaying of the wood, tradesmen used innovative conservation techniques that were way ahead of their time.
First, the birch was soaked in seawater for three years before it was cut. The cut blocks were then boiled in salt water, placed away from sunlight, and exposed to the wind for three years. Only at this point were the wood blocks finally ready for carving.
Wisdom Treasures: The Amazing Tripitaka Koreana
The quality of the calligraphy-style carvings is so consistent that it is unbelievable that it’s a team of around thirty men carved the wooden blocks individually.
A lot of effort must have been put in to ensure the standardisation of each character. After carving, the blocks were covered in a poisonous lacquer to keep insects away and then framed with metal to prevent warping.
According to my research, in the 2000s, the Korean government began designing a modern facility to house the Tripitaka with all the usual bells and whistles. However, their tests kept showing that the woodblocks had degraded in the modern facility. That’s why now the Tipitaka are still here under the dedicated care of the monks.
The buildings were designed with air circulation, making them moisture resistant. The designers also had temperature control in mind. Thankfully the buildings have never suffered the effects of fire or war.
Today, to protect the Janggyeon Panjeon and Tripitaka Koreana from fire, full-time security guards, a 24-hour surveillance system, and a fire truck are in place to respond to any emergency.
Outside the building, there is a replica of one of the wooden blocks, and it appears to be one of my favourite Mahayana sutras of all time, The Heart Sutra.
I calm my mind and recite each and every word I see, and because it is similar to the traditional Chinese language. I felt so connected with the words and the essence the sutra is trying to convey.
Emptiness is form, Form is emptiness. I must be very touched by it because I cried a bit while chanting it. This is because the Heart Sutra has always held a special place in my heart.
When I was younger, my godmother would bring me to the temple to chant it, bringing back nostalgic memories. As I grew older, I came to understand its true meaning. The concept of non-self and non-duality, specifically the teachings of interdependence and emptiness (śūnyatā), has brought a sense of liberation to my heart.
Korea’s Rooted Buddhism: Where Culture Meets Spirituality
Close to dinner time, I was told to gather outside the reception’s office and that’s where I discovered I was not alone doing the temple stay. There was a group of 5 people.
Dinner was scrumptious. As a vegetarian, anytime I can find delicious vegetarian food, I’m grateful. What’s more, the food is cooked by the nuns and monks residing in the temple.
There is a lot of mindfulness that goes into making this meal. Dinner is supposed to be eaten in complete silence. It’s a very peaceful way to eat a meal, mindfully. I can eat as much as I want, but I have to finish everything on my plate.
I’m happy to say I managed this without being too greedy.
Immediately after dinner, there was an evening ceremony, where monks will do drumming. The sound of the drum is considered to be an echo of Buddha’s teachings and thus to beat the drum means to spread Buddha Dharma as its sound diffuses in the air.
Haeinsa Temple’s Drumming Cr: There & Back Again, Expedia
At the same time, it is intended to liberate the sentient beings in heaven and hell by its sound. It also tells the time of major meetings and ceremonies to be held in the temple.
As three monks took their turn pounding relentlessly on an enormous drum, I was marveled by the great artistry and energy. I can’t help but to reflect;
Who is this ‘I’ that hears the sound? Or Is it just my ear hearing the sound?
Does it awaken my mind? Does it bring me to the present moment?
With the bell sound, I was completely at ease and with a sense of peace. I’m there but I’m not there. The mind is fully aware of the surroundings and I’m part of the surroundings itself.
Tea & mindfulness
After the ceremony, the temple stay assistant brought us to the pantry to have some tea. That’s how I got to know my roommates better.
We were discussing Buddhism and because the assistant was new and her English was not as fluent, I somehow shamelessly took over her duties to give an introduction to Buddhism.
I am thankful for the two Diplomas in Buddhism I took!
As if it was not enough, the assistant invited me to conduct a meditation session with the newfound mates in a hall that’s yet to open until the next morning.
That means we got to see and meditate in the hall before anyone else. I felt so blessed and fortunate!
The big bell rang from afar, like an alarm clock ringing. I wasn’t sure if I’m ready for the morning ritual, as I felt sleepy waking up in the wee hours.
Nonetheless, the ghostly chanting at the main hall lured me in. I wore my jacket and started walking towards the main hall. The air smelled so fresh and peaceful. Then, the bell and the chanting became louder, it moved me out of the mystical, and brought me into an awakening realm.
I placed the meditation cushion to mark my spot. Tock, tock, tock — A monk knocking at a hollow wooden musical instrument with a mallet producing a rhythm that goes with the chanting of the holy scriptures.
The musical instrument is called Wooden Fish. Intricately carved into the shape of a fish, as a constant reminder to be “awakened” at all times just as fish keep their eyes open, day and night.
Wooden Fish
The atmosphere inside the temple hall is indescribable. It feels surreal and yet at the same time nostalgic. The sounds of the bell have a magical effect, every time when it rings, it feels like my mind is living in the moment.
I couldn’t chant in Korean so the whole time I listened to the chanting mindfully and carried on with the 108 prostrations.
It’s the body and mental awareness at the same time. Buddhists believed it to be beneficial for practitioners for several reasons, including an experience of giving or veneration, as well as an act to purify defilements, especially conceit.
I personally find it therapeutic as a mindfulness practice. I’m mindfully aware of my body movements and yet focusing my mind on the present making the prostrations. Somehow, there is no me, or ego to be found.
Reflect & Connect: Chants, Meditation, and Heartfelt Bonds
After the morning ritual, my stomach started to growl, and the effort I put in for the prostrations, made me more hungry. We stepped out of the main hall and went to the dining hall for breakfast.
Throughout the whole time, we were asked to maintain silence, and with that, I’m able to observe each of my every movement and my surroundings more in detail. My senses heightened, and I felt light-hearted.
As most of my roommates are not Buddhists, I decided to conduct the Vipassana (Insight) Meditation.
Grateful for this opportunity to conduct the meditation for my newfound mates. I must say, it’s not the first time this kind of wonderful surprise pops up. Somehow, there is this connection that I have with people when it comes to sharing the Dharma. It’s like I’m always at the right place and the right time for the right conditions to happen.
Final reflections
Although it was a short temple stay, I had a greater understanding of the Zen tradition of how our minds are constructed in this belief that there is a self to be satisfied.
The self has never-ending desires, like an entity where we need to serve them to keep our existence.
In fact, if you break down the self in awareness, there is absolutely nothing to be found. No self truly exists.
There is a famous Koan (a paradoxical anecdote used in Zen Buddhism to demonstrate the inadequacy of logical reasoning and provoke enlightenment) between a great Zen Master and two monks.
“The wind was flapping the temple flag. Two monks were arguing about it. One said the flag was moving; the other said the wind was moving. Arguing back and forth they could not agree on the truth. The Sixth Patriarch said, ‘It is neither the wind that is moving nor the flag that is moving. It is your mind that is moving’. The two monks were struck with awe.”
The desire is the wind flapping the flag, and the flag is the self. You are wondering if my existence is based on my desires giving rise to the entity, Self, or is it a fixed entity that brings about the desire.
In fact, neither one of them defines the “I”, it’s the mind consciousness that stands on its own fabricating this “I” or “Self”.
I mindfully packed my bag, and a sense of tranquillity arose, and I was ready to explore the journey rather than focusing on “my” destination…
*The Three Jewels Temples (삼보사찰| Sambosachal) are the primary Buddhist temples in Korea, each symbolizing one of the Three Jewels of Buddhism. All located in South Korea, Tongdosa in South Gyeongsang Province is dedicated to Buddha, Haeinsa, also in South Gyeongsang Province, represents the dharma, or Buddhist teachings, while Songgwangsa in South Jeolla Province embodies the sangha, or Buddhist community.
**Triple Gems – It doesn’t imply gemstones literally, such as rubies or diamonds. The aspects of Buddhism might be compared to these sorts of jewels as precious and rare.
The Three Jewels are comprised of:
The Buddha, the fully enlightened one
The Dharma, the teachings expounded by the Buddha
The Sangha, the monastic order of Buddhism that practices Dharmas.
TLDR: We get it; stepping out of your comfort zone might not be everyone’s idea of a good time. However, that leap of faith can unlock a world of new connections, experiences, and deeper reflections.
We’re not talking about just any camp; we’re diving into the unforgettable journey for 13-21-year-olds at Camp Ehi-Passiko (CEP), where Singapore’s youths discover a unique blend of friendship and spiritual growth.
As youth leaders, we reflected on our journey so far and our motivations to continue our path in the Dhamma rooted in our fond memories from CEP.
Organisers from Singapore Buddhist Mission (SBM) during Camp Ehi-Passiko 2022
First Encounters with CEP
Now, when we first heard about CEP, many of us had our doubts. “Will I even make friends?” “I’d rather binge-watch Netflix at home!” “Camps aren’t my thing.”
But guess what? We’d already signed up, so “bopes” (slang for ‘bobian’, Hokkien term meaning it can’t be helped). Off we went, with a mix of curiosity and uncertainty.
Kai Meng, 21, had his reservations: “I wasn’t thrilled about the idea of a camp, but once it kicked off, I was surprised. From the hilarious skits to creative games and the fantastic friends I made, it was a blast. The campfire night was the best, filled with joy and laughter.”
For those of us who’ve attended Sunday school, CEP was an eye-opener. It wasn’t the stiff and solemn affair we expected. It was lively, fun, and brimming with games and activities. What made it truly special?
The people – open-minded, caring, and spanning different age groups. We felt at home despite our diverse backgrounds and camp experiences.
Jun Jie, 18, recalled his first camp: “I was in Secondary One, and the older campers treated me with kindness. During one game, an older camper carried me on his back to complete an activity and to ensure I wasn’t left out. It was heartwarming.”
Jun Jie (18) playing a game with a group mate during CEP in 2019
Meeting People in a Camp Setting
So, why a camp, you ask? Why not just host sharing sessions, games, and bonding activities?
Well, a camp offers a break from the daily grind, allowing us to dive into a few days of pure fun, excitement, and deep connections. The camp’s energy is infectious, and it brings us closer.
The pinnacle? The campfire night, where bonds are strengthened.
Cleonn, 26, shared: “I first encountered CEP when I attended the final-day campfire with my family. It sparked my curiosity, and I wanted to be part of it.”
Kimberly, 24, added: “The campfire night stands out. We sing, dance, and feel the warmth of the group. It’s a space where we can truly be ourselves, free from outside worries. There’s a sense of belonging.”
A camp setting means we spend dedicated time together, working on game objectives and engaging in discussions. We celebrate both small and big victories with laughter and create lasting friendships in just a few days.
Titus, 23, highlighted the value of teamwork and communication in a camp: “Ehi-passiko’s ‘come and see’ is about how Dhammic lessons and real-world experiences are relevant and timeless.”
Even after the camp ends, the friendships continue, and the memories become cherished moments.
Nicholas, 28, cherishes the final night: “It’s heartwarming to share the evening with old and new friends. It’s a unique experience without judgment.”
We didn’t just read suttas or theories; we explored the Dhamma through activities and reflections. This approach allowed each of us to connect with the teachings in our unique way.
Kimberly appreciated this approach: “It contextualises the teachings, allowing personal reflection on life experiences.”
Jun Jie added: “They took into consideration the age group, which ranges from age 13 to 20 plus and with that in mind, I think they know that small kids won’t really appreciate those kinds of long talks or sharing. They incorporated Buddhist knowledge into games and guided us. We also had sharing sessions that made self-reflection meaningful and engaging.”
This personalized approach opened doors to new experiences and insights enabling us to find the Dhamma in our own way. It helped us navigate the challenges of growing up and becoming our authentic selves.
Exploring New Opportunities for Personal Growth
SBM youths participating in a cohesion camp in June 2023
The open and inclusive community gave us opportunities to explore leadership roles, plan events, and run passion projects. These experiences shaped our strengths and weaknesses and set the stage for our future endeavours.
Titus explained how these interactions enriched his life: “It granted me exposure to a wide variety of personalities and characters, and I learned more about Dhammic philosophy. It sparked my curiosity to dig deeper into Buddhism.”
Kimberly found that she could express herself more openly and make intentional decisions: “I became more able to open up to people I may not necessarily be close to.”
Lifelong Bonds and Inspiration
For those who have experienced CEP, it’s all about the people. The lifelong bonds we’ve formed continue to inspire and empower us to give back to our community and continue our spiritual journey.
Jun Jie summed it up: “It’s not just a four-day camp; we stay in touch and build lasting friendships. Some of these friends will be with you for a long time. They provide valuable advice and support.”
So, what’s the takeaway? The CEP experience offers a safe and comfortable space to have fun, grow, and learn together.
Open yourself to new experiences and see what unfolds – you might be surprised at the magic that awaits you.
A sharing session by our youth at SBM (2023)
What is CEP?
Camp Ehi-Passiko (CEP) is a 4-Days-3-Nights flagship camp organized annually by Singapore Buddhist Mission (Youth). Ehi-Passiko, a Pali term translated as “come and see,” represents the core tenet behind all our activities here at Singapore Buddhist Mission.
Our very first CEP kicked off in 1997 and has since been built upon two pillars: fun and fellowship, where we aim to plant the seeds of Dhamma in youths through newly engaging and experiential ways for Buddhist youths of all walks of life to experience and enjoy.
These activities will allow them to be mindful of their actions in their daily lives and realise how the Buddha’s teachings closely relate and are applicable to solving day-to-day obstacles.
This year, Camp Ehi-Passiko 2023: Path of the Warrior will be held from 8-11 December. We look forward to bringing you new experiences and making new spiritual friendships with you!
🏮 Camp dates: 8-11 December
🏮 Camp location: Poh Ern Shih (9 Chwee Chian Rd)
🏮 Age range: 13 to 21 years old
Camp fee*: $80
*Special rate of $30 for:
Past campers
Friends of CEP and SBM
Members of Buddhist clubs and societies
Groups of 4
For more details, visit our website at https://www.sbm.sg/cep2023. For inquiries, contact Cleonn (9233 7322) or Nicholas (9643 3712).
TLDR: We explore how Netflix shows, example the film “Hunger,” can offer opportunities for mindful contemplation of the Dhamma. We explore the dimensions of physical survival, sensual desires, and moral values.
Chilling Meaningfully with Netflix
Yes, we all know the euphemistic nature of the phrase “Netflix and Chill”. It is often characterized as a complete mental switch-off activity that is laced with sexual connotations.
Instead of engaging in either people watching or meditation, Netflix might be the band-aid solution for some (like me I admit) to ‘occupy’ time on seemingly long train journeys and bus rides.
Can we avoid wiling away precious time even as our eyes remain glued to the screen? How can we chill meaningfully with our favourite Netflix show?
As an avid Netflix enthusiast who often harks back (knowingly) to the screen on buses and trains, I will be sharing how the newly launched Netflix film Hunger (2023) has created room for me to mindfully tease out Dhamma and chill in a meaningful manner.
Spoiler alerts ahead!
HUNGER (2023): A Brief Sypnosis
Set in the bustling global city of Bangkok, Hunger (2023) narrates the story of young Aoy, a talented cook who aspires to enter the world of fine dining to become a professional chef.
Despite being reprimanded severely by master chef Paul for her incompetence in the kitchen, Aoy bites the bullet, practices hard and eventually gains the recognition and status she craves for.
Although she is now at the apex of her career, she does not feel a sense of complete satisfaction. What was she really striving so hard for? What are the trade-offs she has to make from this insatiable appetite?
After realising some important truths, she decides to throw the apron (pun intended) and truly be her own chef back at her modest family restaurant.
Here are three levels of hunger that the film explores!
LEVEL 1: Neutral Hunger for Physical Survival
The first dimension of hunger which the film portrays deals with physical hunger. As depicted in the film, many homeless and malnourished were lying along pedestrian walkways, curling into a ball as they quietly withstand their hunger pangs.
Without food, physical suffering (dukkha) in the stomach will likely hinder peace of the mind.
Although these scenes in Hunger (2023) may seem very trivial, hunger is a very real problem faced by many on a day-to-day basis. Living in a developed country, we may simply gloss over physical hunger and take for granted the food we consume every meal.
This first level of hunger ties in beautifully with the Sukha Vagga which mentions how hunger (as in the physical kind) is the worst kind of disease which needs to be addressed before realising Nibbana.
Subjected to extreme states of physical hunger, the mind cannot settle down quietly to focus on the spiritual path, constantly disturbed by bodily demands.
203. Hunger is the worst disease, conditioned things the worst suffering. Knowing this as it really is, the wise realise Nibbana, the highest bliss.
The second dimension of hunger which the film portrays deals with our sensual desires. For the wealthy elites, food goes beyond pure sustenance.
Instead, food becomes a status symbol and an unforgettable experience. As the film suggests, theme parties are often thrown by high-rollers to give their guests a once-in-a-lifetime sensation.
CR: Netflix’s HUNGER (2023)
From ‘Blood and Flesh’ (see picture above) to ‘Gladiator’-like settings, food becomes an interesting medium to tantalise one’s senses.
When this fleeting experience is over, what is ultimately left is the continuous craving for morE, moRE and MORE!
As peak experiences vanish, dissatisfaction arises. Conditioned to continue experiencing unique and out-of-the-world experiences, wealthy elites splurge on chefs like Aoy and Paul to materialise these experiences. However, when these extravagant food ‘performances’ are over, pleasant feelings fade and cease, perpetuating the vicious cycle of dissatisfaction once again.
As mentioned in Nandaka’s Exhortation, feelings (vedanā) are meandering patterns which arise, persist and fade perpetually based on a corresponding condition. Clinging on to pleasant feelings brought about through food will only lead to greater unhappiness and dissatisfaction.
146. Pleasant feeling is impermanent, conditioned, dependently arisen, having the nature of wasting, vanishing, fading and ceasing.
The third and final dimension of hunger which the film portrays deals with this nebulous idea of a superego (see the journal article written by Nass, 2017).
The superego is concerned with social rules and morality – similar to what people call as their “conscience” or their “moral compass”.
For example, I might be certain nobody will notice if I steal something. However, knowing that stealing is inherently wrong, I decided not to take anything even though I probably wouldn’t get caught.
This ‘wholesome’ hunger to right the wrong, be utterly real, avoid guilt and remove shame makes us truly human. In the film, when master chef Paul was cooking an endangered hornbill for a wealthy diner, Aoy felt completely disgusted by this ruthless act which goes against her personal morals of not killing protected wildlife to simply appease the ‘3-inch tongue’.
This breach in her deeply-rooted values prompts Aoy to leave the patronage of her master and chart her own culinary path.
Similar to the notion of the superego, the Buddha’s Discourse to Visakha spells out the importance of wise shame (hiri) and wise fear (ottappa) as the guardian of our thoughts, speech and actions.
Without a specific catalogue of principles and rules to tell us what is considered right or wrong, we can only rely on our trustworthy companions (hiri and ottappa) to navigate this VUCA (volatile, uncertain, complex and ambiguous) world we live in.
One who has shame (hiri) of doing evil, and fear of doing evil (ottappa), the two qualities which are called “the world guardians”
In a nutshell, the dimensions of hunger in Hunger (2023) can be illustrated in the pyramid below:
From Binge to Mindful Watching
In conclusion, Hunger (2030) has provided me with a fine-grained analysis of different dimensions and understandings of hunger.
While neutral hunger for physical survival is a given to generate energy for mental cultivation, more attention should be paid to both negative and positive hunger.
Synonymous with greed (lobha), negative hunger is the craving for things that we don’t really need.
Positive hunger through discernment, on the other hand, drives us towards the highest good. Just like what Ananda, Buddha’s attendant, advised Brahman Unnabha in Kosambi, it is possible to abandon desire by means of desire.
The desire to do good, avoid evil, conform to hiri and abide by ottappa are merely Dhammic ‘tools’ and ‘vehicles’ to carry one towards ultimate bliss.
When the highest good (nibbana) is attained, these positive hungers (desires) must eventually be allayed and forsaken.
For lay watchers like myself, this aspirational energy derived through such positive desires and hunger is important. Without these ‘desirable’ instruments, it might be very challenging to navigate tactfully through the vicissitudes of this life.
Whatever desire he first had for the attainment of arahantship, on attaining arahantship that particular desire is allayed. … So what do you think, brahman? Is this an endless path, or one with an end?”
Instead of purely binge-watching Netflix on a mental shutdown mode, why not take the next train journey or bus trip as an opportunity to practice mindful-watching?
Tying back what we consume to the Dhamma can help us find deeper meaning in the mundane routines of life.
Wise Steps:
Watch to destress but also watch to skilfully exercise the Dhamma. Netflix can indeed be a very powerful medium to make Dhamma come alive!
Relate your personal experiences with the series you are watching. A mundane everyday experience of consuming food can actually be your ‘teacher’ for life!
Hunger is ultimately a choice! Choosing the wrong kind of hunger invariably traps you in this vicious cycle of suffering. Choosing the right kind of hunger may be the key to emancipating yourself from this endless samsaric cycle.
TLDR: How would a conversation about Buddhism from three different perspectives (a Professor of Asian religions, a Zen monk and a Tibetan nun) turn out to be? Will we wake up in 2050 seeing true happiness?
*NOTE: This contains Spoiler for the film Waking up 2050*
In a world where technology and materialism often take centre stage, the quest for true happiness becomes even more elusive. Waking Up 2050 is a thought-provoking documentary that takes us on a journey to explore a common understanding of Buddhism from varied angles and its relevance in our ever-changing world.
Directed by Ray Choo, this film offers diverse perspectives from individuals living with Buddha’s teaching or learning and teaching it (Ani Pema Deki, Kodo Nishimura, and Prof. Daniel Veidlinger) shedding light on the profound teachings of Buddhism and its potential impact on our lives.
The documentary seems like separate interviews merged into a film without the questions asked out loud, an interesting structure as the viewers could still understand what the interviewees are referring to. The futuristic visuals serve as an additional anchor for contemplation with the presence of the director is cleverly noted in narrations throughout the film, gently steering the topics for the viewers.
Futurist Scene from Waking up 2050
Labels
Labels are often used for practical reasons, mainly as a point of reference in communication with others. We need a common term (e.g. a person’s / object’s name) for a conversation to be as effective.
Prof. Veidlinger teaches Asian religion at the University Chico and is often asked by students about the definition of Buddhism.
“Whatever people call it, I don’t know and I don’t very much care what it’s called”
Prof. Daniel Veidlinger
Let’s investigate: what is Buddhism, in conventional meaning and its true meaning? Some may define it in the rituals, some may define it as philosophy, others may categorise it as one of religion, or even differentiate it as spirituality.
What does being a Buddhist mean to individuals and society, and its true meaning? Or is ‘being a Buddhist’ what we need/should strive for?
Buddha said ..you don’t deserve the label ‘outer robe wearer’ just because you wear an outer robe
‘Outer robe’ represents a perception. How much does perception of oneself and others affect our definition of the surrounding world, including how we interact with that surrounding world?
Kodo Nishimura, a Zen monk who also dresses up and works as a make-up artist – is he fitting in the definition of ‘monk’? By whose definition? Would Lord Buddha approve of this choice?
Interestingly, monastics in Japan underwent a fundamental change from Buddha’s Vinaya (monastic rules). There were records of monks getting married during the Kamakura period (1185-1333).
However, the further secularisation of monastics for some sects was cemented in 1872 which allowed monks to be free to “eat meat, take wives, and shave their heads” as they chose.
Scholars suggest that allowing monks to marry was a ‘necessity’ to allow the continuance of inherited temple land to be passed on. The taking up of jobs beyond being a monastics was also done to fund their livelihood as some temples did not receive enough donations for day-to-day living.
Hence, this film might bring some form of cognitive dissonance for viewers who are used to monks being celibate and not in the ‘business’ of running temples. However, viewed through the lens of Japanese contemporary Buddhism, this is more rule than the exception.
Dhammapada 266:
He is not a monk just because he lives on others’ alms. Not by adopting outward form does one become a true monk
When Kodo Nishimura was uncertain whether he was disrespecting Buddhism by also being involved in the fashion industry, he sought advice from his Master and strengthened his conviction in his choice.
“The Master said if the message can be delivered to many people and you can spread it easier, I don’t think wearing something shiny is a problem”
Kodo Nishimura
The notion that monks are still involved in worldly roles (e.g. taking up occupation), even if the intention is to expand Buddhism and draw more laypeople to be interested in the teaching – would’ve been something beyond the concept of ‘monastic’ to me. However, when applied to how Buddhism has developed in Japan, this brought me to a greater understanding and how perceptions can differ by magnitudes when history & culture intersects.
Even though his views differ from my personal opinion, I found it helpful to not be overly attached to how a monk should behave in this film and instead just let that disagreement sit peacefully within me.
Japanese Honen Buddhism, Bhutanese Vajrayana Buddhism, and Thai Theravada Buddhism – are these conventions created by the mind? What are the benefits and drawbacks of such segregation and categorisation?
Scene featuring Ani Pema Deki, Waking up 2050
“The Dalai Lama often says Buddhism is religion, philosophy and science”
Ani Pema Deki
It seems to be a much deeper assessment than simple external perception. How many of us have genuinely adopted the full teaching to pass judgment? Or rather, would it still matter when one does reach such a level of realisation?
It feels like the effort to clarify such conventions may be less relevant to me, than using the same effort to take on the practice – of which the clarity would most likely arise from the journey.
Buddhism is often linked to Asia. In Southeast Asia where it is one of the major religions, many follow traditions that could be considered cultural practices (e.g. 7th lunar month prayer or praying to gods in general).
Where does culture and Buddhism meet? A way of life or a teaching? When those in Asian countries do things ‘a Buddhist is supposed to do’, does that make us a Buddhist?
“..if one sees the core Buddhism as a self-transformation, conquering desires.. to emerge into a more enlightened mode of thinking.. seeing the world as it is.. realise they’re impermanent – then the vast majority of Buddhists are not really practising. .. Though the essence of Buddhism is that there is no core that doesn’t change”
Prof. Veidlinger
Is there a benefit to an outsider’s mind looking at these practices and rituals to understand Buddhism? Is it a practice done in a specific place/time or can it be part of life? Embedded into our mindset, habits and values.
On the other hand, the female monastic topic has been an ongoing conversation. Ordination for female monastic is not allowed in many Buddhist lineages due to some scholars arguing that since the nun’s order died out long ago, it should not be restarted.
Restarting it, they argue, requires breaking the rules set down by the Buddha which required the presence of already fully ordained nuns. Hence, this creates a circular argument which cannot be easily resolved. For some who do, it isn’t at the same level of recognition as male monastic and with more rules applicable to females than males.
Emma Slade was ordained in Bhutan, taking the Buddhist name Ani Pema Deki. And because she has had a child, Ani Pema Deki feels that her ordination is the result of luck. Nevertheless, she feels the experience of caring for her child, a vulnerable being, with patience and love has helped with her practice.
“It is real combination and it’s very useful for the path”
Ani Pema Deki
When we ask ourselves, what is the reason I’m following this teaching? What has arisen for us: because that’s how it is with my family/society, or because I choose to follow the path from my understanding.
For many (including myself), it could start as automatic family/society culture and evolve into intentional choice from the ground of clearer understanding – which can be a path of its own.
Happiness in the world and beyond
The mind that is bent on finding meaning (or ‘happiness’ as it thinks), defining what’s right or wrong according to convention – seems like a turning circle with no end or rest. Similarly, the intention to present what is thought to be ‘perfect’ to the external world, is futile.
Amongst diverse worldly experiences packaged to bring happiness in the progressive world, will we wake up to true and lasting happiness when we arrive in 2050?
The next time we start a conversation with ‘I am..’, how would we continue the sentence? When we ‘do’ Buddhist instead of ‘be’ Buddhist, that’s probably a reminder to investigate the intention behind it.
At the end of the day, which is the more important question? Is the label used to refer to happiness or the actual path to arrive at true happiness?
“The teaching of Buddha-Dharma is limitless and boundless”
Narrator
Conclusion
In a world filled with uncertainty and rapid change, Waking Up 2050 aims to shed a guiding light, and illuminate the timeless wisdom of Buddhism and its potential impact on our life, today and into the future. As we navigate the complexities of the modern world, the teachings of Buddhism offer solace, inspiration, and a roadmap to true happiness. Let this documentary catalyse self-reflection and a source of hope as we strive to awaken to our fullest potential.
*SPOILER ALERT!* Buddha in Africa by Nicole Schafer introduces us to the story of Enock Bello, a Malawian orphan living in a Chinese Buddhist orphanage. We learn who he is, but more importantly, where he is, both in his trajectory of life and amongst the wider scope of society. Through the director’s thorough observations and sensitive framing, we get a fuller sense of his dilemma—and the larger powers that influence his choice—as he decides on his path for the future.
At first glance, the documentary seems the ideal form to tackle issues concerning such imbalances of power. The idea is that the very act of training your lens upon a previously underseen subject helps redress some of that imbalance. Buddha in Africa achieves that, at least.
However, with a subject like this, there is a second set of power dynamics to be considered—that between the subject and the documentarian.
Who, really, is in charge of this story, the one being gazed at or the one doing the gazing? The film neglects some of these blind spots, though that doesn’t necessarily negate what value it does offer.
Primarily, Buddha in Africa gives us a glimpse into the workings of an Amitofo Care Centre (ACC) in Malawi. This orphanage takes in kids from the villages and gives them shelter, food, healthcare, and even opportunities to study abroad for their higher education.
Scene from Buddha in Africa
The trade-off, of course, is that you have to abide by their rules—these include attending early-morning Buddhist sermons, receiving punishment if you’re late, learning Mandarin, and undergoing kungfu training.
Cultural Imperialism Cloaked as Charity?
From the get-go, it’s clear that the documentary takes a critical position towards what is essentially a form of cultural imperialism. During one sermon, there is a telling shot: a young kid, still yawning, has his hands loosely clasped together in an approximation of the praying gesture. An older teen reaches down to unfurl his fingers, and straighten his palms.
Scene from Buddha in Africa
We see many such scenes: most of the kids are made to go through the motions, rather than having any proper engagement with what is being conveyed to them. The younger orphans often cry about wanting to go home. Enock mentions how he doesn’t like the Chinese name they thrust upon him.
Who can blame them? This is an unfamiliar culture, language, and religion. Is the point to improve their access to opportunities and equip them with life skills, or is it simply to engender the expansion of Chinese culture?
Even so, for a Buddhist care centre, there is little delving into Buddhist teachings—at least, not that the documentary has chosen to show. Instead, we get a sense that the institution has two main goals—to help break the cycle of poverty in African nations, yes, but also to bolster Chinese soft power.
And for both, one thing is vital: money. It wouldn’t be unfair to say that at its core the ACC is a commercial enterprise—or, at least, it has to be run like one. Master Hui Li is portrayed to be more of a shrewd businessman than a benevolent monastic, frequently reminding the staff and students of their duty to the patrons. But these are necessary considerations—aren’t they? That is one of the central questions of the documentary.
Scene from Buddha in Africa
Poverty Porn as a Money-Making Enterprise?
At some points, this relationship borders on exploitation. We see the orphans preparing for a show—a mixture of martial arts feats and tear-jerking drama—that will tour several countries. The purpose, Master Hui Li reminds Xiao Bei, the kungfu coach, is to garner audience sympathy and convey the orphans’ gratitude towards their donors.
During the rehearsals, Xiao Bei guides the boys through the right motions, and more crucially, the right emotions. In one scene of their performance, Enock and another orphan act as an ill mother and her child. They stagger onstage in ragged clothes, weak, and starving.
There are projected photos of barren scenery and stick-thin babies, complete with sentimental string music. It is basically dramatised poverty porn.
A voiceover functions as their dialogue, delivering the characters’ lines in Mandarin and English. The actors, however, do not actually speak. They are spoken for in languages that cater to the audience, that aren’t meant to express their own stories or identities.
Scene from Buddha in Africa
But the point is that it works. The audience finds all this tremendously moving. After the show, donations come rolling in.
This is a charity that, when framed in this manner, plays into the form of a saviour complex.
In Buddhist terms, pity seems to be the driving force here, rather than compassion: a separation still exists between the self (the donors) and the Other (their beneficiaries), who are seen only as “victims” below the donors’ standing.
Malawi is subsumed into the generic concept of some abstract “Africa”, and its cultures and ways of living are depicted to be in opposition to civilisation and advancement. Still, despite the presence of the documentarian’s camera, the ACC staff are not at all self-conscious about what they’re doing or the ways in which it may be problematic.
This, more than anything, reveals their sincere belief in the inherent righteousness of their mission.
Thus, a more charitable interpretation becomes possible—that ultimately, this is all done to improve the welfare of the orphans, and indeed, the socioeconomic conditions of Malawi.
If a little cultural imperialism is involved, well, it’s just a practical prerequisite to elicit donor support—how else would they pay for the facilities and resources required to bring up healthy children? Perhaps it is capitalism that lies at the root, not cultural superiority. It’s hard to tell if that is better or worse.
Asian parenting for a Malawian Boy?
I’ve been speaking in broad strokes, but Schafer also tactfully leaves room for grey areas. The ACC staff, when they painstakingly advise the orphans on their future paths, may come off as condescending.
But we see there is also genuine concern, in keeping with the stereotypical Asian style of parenting—plan your child’s future on their behalf, because they don’t always know what’s good for them!
At the same time, they acknowledge that these kids have to make their own choices.
Scene from Buddha in Africa
Enock has to choose: stay on in Malawi with his family or study abroad in Taiwan. Initially, he opts for the former. When he gets back to the village, however, it is his grandmother and aunt who gently chide him for this decision, stating how they won’t be able to support him, how they may need to rely on him in the future.
The adults, whether from ACC or his family, are in agreement here: the wiser choice is to study in Taiwan, as this affords him more access, knowledge, and networks. They are not wrong. Neither is Enock in wanting to stay. Life is full of impossible riddles.
Impossible Choices in Impossible Circumstances
Another impossible riddle: how may children be introduced into a religion?
It is hard for a child to make a fully informed decision, much less one as complex as choosing which religion to follow—not simply because they lack the life experience, but also because they are always in positions of lesser power in relation to the adults in their lives.
We see that no religion is above compulsion or indoctrination. After all, proselytization is a religion’s way of reproducing and surviving, as inherent as DNA. But this is not unique to ACC. Aren’t most religions passed down like this from parent to child, who may not have any real say in the matter? Interestingly, in Buddhism, professing that you are a Buddhist doesn’t make you one. It is the ethics and practice that we uphold that is more important. Buddha did not hold back on the importance of our actions by likening a monk who has weak moral virtues as a donkey proclaiming to be a cow. No amount of proclamation can transform someone.
The orphans are also reminded that they have a choice between staying on or leaving the orphanage. But is a choice possible under such circumstances? Can anyone walk away from a life with better material conditions that are necessary to one’s mental and physical well-being?
The methods by which ACC spreads the Dhamma are therefore questionable, both in their effectiveness and ethicality. Dhammapada Verse 100 states: “Better than a thousand useless words is one useful word, hearing which one attains peace.” ACC’s preaching may take up more than a thousand words, but how many actually reaches the kids? Especially when the staff’s conduct doesn’t necessarily reflect Buddhist principles—the help they offer is only on the condition that you embrace their culture.
Perhaps this is something that every charity organisation needs to constantly reflect upon and grapple with: What conditions or expectations are they imposing (consciously or otherwise) upon the very people they’re proclaiming to help?
The Complex & “Un-Buddhist” Father Figure
The documentary shows us that Enock’s relationships with these adults are therefore multifaceted and complex. His bond with Xiao Bei in particular provides a few wholesome moments. They recall fond memories and share photographs from previous travels. Xiao Bei worries about Enock’s future and is even accepting of the fact that Enock still holds on to Muslim beliefs (as it’s the religion of Enock’s family).
Scene from Buddha in Africa
It is apparent that the coach has become a father figure to Enock, a role both have embraced. Despite everything, they have found a human connection in this world. This coach who understands Enock the most, however, is also later charged with assault, after another student’s refusal to be punished escalates into an armed fight. Xiao Bei is then deported.
Enock accepts this. He points out the hypocrisy: Buddhism is about maintaining a calm mind, not acting out of impulse. Xiao Bei’s behaviour is the opposite of that.
Home Is Always Elusive
The documentary raises another personal question: What is home? To Enock, despite being brought to ACC at 6, home is still the village where his grandmother lives. But he is something of an outcast there—his friends don’t recognise who he’s become and he can barely speak Yao.
Can a place you return to once a year still be your “home”? But isn’t that the case, too, for many of us? It is never about how much time is spent there.
In a profound scene, Enock begins crying after looking at a photograph of his parents. Despite a lifetime without his parents, the grief is still there. Connections like these are hard to explain. Sometimes, home is its own absence.
Scene from Buddha in Africa
Are These Emotions Manufactured?
When it comes to documenting such intensely personal moments, Buddha in Africa might border on the voyeuristic—is a real person’s emotion being put on display as spectacle? At times, Enock shows awareness of the documentarian’s presence, sharing his thoughts directly to the camera.
Mostly, however, the camera simply observes. In her director’s note, Schafer mentions how “it took quite awhile for me […] to get through to the real Enock”. We also find out that that touching moment where Enock sees the photograph of his parents is, to an extent, engineered—Schafer had initiated “this process of reflection into his past” when she found out how little he knew about his parents.
Admittedly, her treatment of the subject is tender and thoughtful, but the question remains: What are the boundaries of a documentarian’s role in capturing an insightful story? It might be more honest if the documentary itself has been more transparent about this process of involvement, recognising how it has influenced the subject’s development, rather than effacing the director’s role in materialising certain narratives.
The Trap and Dependency on Foreign Systems
What, then, is the documentary’s final message? The director, in another interview, said, “I suppose it’s just this idea that the key to the future of the continent’s development is always held by outsiders, and that in order to succeed, we always have to adapt to foreign value systems and policies. I think Enock’s story challenges this idea in very refreshing ways.”
But although Schafer does give us a nuanced and incisive portrait of this issue, Enock’s ending, or at least the ending the documentary has opted for, doesn’t challenge this idea, only reinforces it.
Any agency he has expressed through his initial decision is diminished by the end, where the circumstances of his life drive him down a path he hadn’t wished to take.
Scene from Buddha in Africa
Schafer also spoke of how she wanted to explore Enock’s story as being emblematic of the wider political relations between China and the African continent. I think that’s the main problem in this approach—it comes across as a purely academic interest, reducing a real person into a symbolic subject, a microcosm that serves only as a metaphor.
The documentary successfully captures a complex, thought-provoking story, and is well worth watching for that. But my mind keeps returning to the moments where Enock is shown staring out one window or another, lost in unexpressed thought, silent. One can only hope the next time we hear his story again, it will be in his own words, with an ending he’s chosen for himself.
TLDR: The concepts of Death, Suffering, and Rebirth are major concepts in Buddhism, yet it may be hard for us to understand them via reading the suttas alone. Watching movies may present a different view of how people facing these challenges make sense of them.
The classic Beauty & the Beast “Tale as Old as Time” song evokes emotions as I reminisce about my grandmother’s stories during childhood. Stories have a magic that draws us in, like finishing a new Harry Potter novel in one sitting. For Buddhists, some of us are probably acquainted with the Jataka Tales (moral Buddhist tales typically geared toward kids). Movies are similar, telling stories in a visual format.
Here are 3 reasons why I am choosing to watch movies at the upcoming Thus Have I Seen Buddhist Film Festival (THISBFF) 2023, happening at Shaw Theatre Lido Singapore, between 23rd and 30th September (No spoilers here – except movie synopsis and materials provided by THISBFF)
Death – the Dreaded 5 Letter Word:
The word – “Death,” evokes strong visceral emotions in most of us. Death is said to be as natural as birth, for with childbirth, there would be eventual death. I learned this in secondary school Biology class. Nevertheless, accepting this reality remains a challenge for me.
I struggle with the idea of being separated from my loved ones. As I advance into midlife, labels like “Boomers” strike fear as it remind me that I am of a separate generation from Gen Z/Millennials. More importantly, it reminds me that I am so much closer to my death than when I was in my 20s.
Moreover, in 2019, I experienced a car accident, requiring life-saving surgery and four blood transfusions. This event profoundly heightened my perception of Death.
The movie –Review, where three terminal patients share their journey in facing death, intrigues me. How would I confront my mortality if faced with death? Hopefully, I won’t have to confront this reality for some time. However, the Buddha reminds the monks that we should maintain constant mindfulness of death, not just once a day but on every breath interval.
As a layperson, I find the practice of the 5 Daily Remembrances, one of which reminds us that “I am of the nature to die. There is no way to escape death,” is a practice that I can aspire to better follow, to start my acceptance of Death.
What Suffering Means to You?
I’ve come across the argument that ‘Suffering‘ inadequately captures the Pali term Dukkha, and I concur. I find ‘Unsatisfactoriness’ a more fitting representation of Dukkha.
Unsatisfactoriness covers a whole greater gamut of the challenges we face in our daily living – getting a passionately written article rejected can be a major source of discontent and pain to the aspiring writer, a non-event even for most people, and not warranting the big S-word “Suffering.”
Life’s small sufferings are portrayed in the movie –Vanishing Point, via two men, a young idealistic journalist and a purposeless middle-aged motel owner. It shows suffering isn’t transcended until we calm our minds. For me, the practice ofMettā (Lovingkindness) andKaruna (Compassion) has been my go-to emotion regulation practice to soothe my mental suffering, as I face the inevitable challenges in daily life.
In the movie – The Mountain Path, a young man embarks on a journey to meet a Buddhist hermit master atop a mountain. Along the journey, he encounters various personalities who teach him how to live in the world within himself.
This reminds me that the Buddha’s teaching has a significant emphasis on mind training, focusing on transforming us inside out. It involves using our daily life experiences as raw materials to transform our minds and ultimately help us overcome our suffering.
We cannot seek to run away from our pain via external means, we can only overcome the pain via internal mind-training. Bhāvanā or meditation, is the vehicle to train our mind, as taught by the Buddha.
How do we define Rebirth?
Rebirth is a concept that may not be universally accepted by all Buddhists and has been defined and explained in different forms.
The good news in Buddhism is that the Buddha encourages us to suspend our beliefs and discover the truth for ourselves. While I am not anywhere close to understanding the deep Dhamma of rebirth, I have been intrigued by the story of Angulimala’s rebirth from a murderer to a monk.
Angulimala, the infamous murderer who killed 999 people and would have killed his mother if not for Buddha’s intervention, intriguingly captures rebirth. The idea of rebirth from a murderer into a monk is vividly captured in the verse that the Buddha asked Angulimala to share with a pregnant mother who was having a problem birthing her child:
Angulimala shared: “Sister since I was born with the noble birth, I have never purposely deprived a living being of life. By this truth may you and the infant be safe!‘”
It is said that Angulimala’s noble birth, or spiritual rebirth, began with his ordination as a monk and culminated in his attainment of his Arahant (Fully Enlightened One). From this story, I see that a form of rebirth is when we shed our former role or identity to take on a new one.
What happens when we cannot fully transition into the new aspired role though? In the movie, “I Leave Home,” Sungmin, aspires to be a monk but is turned away for being over-aged.
I look forward to seeing his purpose/identity re-evaluation. This resonates with my journey, as I need to re-evaluate my goals and timeline for my mid-career transition, from being a Counsellor to a Data Analyst. Some changes may take longer than we planned, so how do we navigate such challenges?
Watching movies is the present commonly accepted form of listening to stories, for movies tantalise our eye senses besides our hearing senses.
Beyond stimulating the basic 5 senses, I hope these films can stimulate your 6th sense – the mind-sense. I hope it enables you to better understand and discover the wisdom of the above Buddhist concepts and beyond I look forward to reading some insights from the movie-goers to THISBFF 2023 in the HOL blog soon.
Wise Steps:
Look up the Thus Have I Seen Buddhist Film Festival (THISBFF) 2023 website here and check out the movies that interest you.
Get 10% off your tickets with this Promotional Code: AHOLTHIS2023
