Melvyn C. Goldstein awarded 2012 Frank and Dorothy Humel Hovorka Prize
Melvyn C. Goldstein awarded 2012 Frank and Dorothy Humel Hovorka Prize |
- Melvyn C. Goldstein awarded 2012 Frank and Dorothy Humel Hovorka Prize
- Tonglen: A Lesson in Giving and Taking
- Tonglen: A Lesson in Giving and Taking
- Buddhists and Christians gather to discuss greed
- A Lightness To The Step
- “Nothing & Everything” book launch Wednesday at the Rubin Museum
| Melvyn C. Goldstein awarded 2012 Frank and Dorothy Humel Hovorka Prize Posted: 16 May 2012 09:00 AM PDT  Photo via www.case.edu Melvyn C. Goldstein, the first American to earn a doctorate in Tibetan anthropology, will receive the 2012 Frank and Dorothy Humel Hovorka Prize at a ceremony to be held on Sunday, May 20 at Case Western Reserve University's Veale Center. The award is given to those who have made "extraordinary contributions to their academic field and to Case Western Reserve." According to the Case Western Reserve University's website, the prize is the highest form of honor a faculty member can receive. Goldstein is the John Reynolds Harkness Professor of Anthropology at CWRU and Co-Director of the Center for Research on Tibet, which he founded. Goldstein began his prestigious career in the mid-1960s while a graduate student at the University of Washington, where he interviewed many Tibetan refugees. After receiving this country's first doctorate in Tibetan anthropology, he became a faculty member at Case Western Reserve University in 1968 – chairing the anthropology department there from 1975 2002. 1985 he became the first Western anthropologists conduct field research in Tibet, and in 1987 he started the university's Center for Research on Tibet. To read about all of Melvyn C. Goldstein's achievements over the years, including his pioneering research on the rare Tibetan marriage custom known as fraternal polyandry, please read the full article in CWRU's The Daily. Pema Chodron on Shantideva 
This posting includes an audio/video/photo media file: Download Now |
| Tonglen: A Lesson in Giving and Taking Posted: 16 May 2012 08:01 AM PDT
Tonglen, as Judy Lief explains in the coming July 2012 issue of the Shambhala Sun, is a meditation practice in which "we breathe out what we normally cling to and breathe in what we usually avoid" to connect with suffering and change our relationship with others. In the following piece, Emily Strasser visits with a Tibetan monk in India who's putting tonglen into practice to help the children in his community. Ten years ago, a young Tibetan monk, Jamyang, sat outside his room in Dharamsala reading about the tonglen practice. The day was sunny, and above him the clouds played in the mountain peaks. From the Tibetan words tong, "to give," and len, "to take," tonglen describes a meditation in which the practitioner visualizes breathing in the suffering of the world in the form of thick black smoke, and breathing out his own joy and comfort, as clear and luminous air. When Jamyang looked up from his reading, he noticed three Indian boys in ragged clothes picking food out of a rotting garbage pile. The next day, Jamyang cooked a large lunch and shared his food with the boys. Over simple daily meals of rice and dal, Jamyang and the boys formed an unlikely friendship. They took Jamyang down to the Charan slum in Lower Dharamsala, where their families lived in temporary shelters made of bamboo poles covered in plastic sheeting. Jamyang was shocked to see that children without even garbage to eat were dying of malnutrition and diarrhea. The slum had no sanitary facilities. Alcohol abuse, disease, and domestic violence were rife. Himachal Pradesh, a fertile mountainous state with a growing economy, is home to more than 10,000 internally displaced people, driven from their homes in Rajasthan, Maharashtra, and Uttar Pradesh by environmental degradation and economic changes that have made their previous livelihoods unsustainable. They come to Dharamsala, with its thriving Tibetan exile community and steady stream of tourists, to maintain the winding mountain roads, haul cement for new guesthouses, fix the hiking boots of foreign trekkers, and beg. Many families move seasonally to follow the festival and tourist seasons. Jamyang immediately began collecting food, medicine, and clothing. He took people to the hospital. Yet he soon realized that addressing the material needs of the people was not sustainable. The Tong-Len Charitable Trust was registered in India in 2005 with the goal of supporting internally displaced people in the region by combating the root causes of poverty, focusing primarily on education for the children. The local government school is free, but child beggars provide an essential source of income for many families. Children enrolled in school attended only sporadically because their families moved so frequently. In 2005, Tong-Len set up a hostel near the slum to house school-aged children, provide meals, supervision, and academic support. That first year, there were just ten kids. In November 2012, a new hostel building was inaugurated by the Dalai Lama, and Tong-Len now houses about 90 children between the ages of seven and sixteen, divided equally between boys and girls. Jamyang hopes that after the children graduate and find jobs, they will return to help their communities. The four oldest students are in 10th class and will graduate in 2-3 years; they are some of the top students in the state. . . . The tonglen meditation scares me—I do not want to take the black smoke into my body; I am afraid to give away my own happiness. Stories like Jamyang's also scare me—when we allow ourselves to really see people and feel true compassion, we may never be able to turn away again. How much can we afford to let in? Jamyang did not ask himself that question when he shared his lunch with the slum kids that first afternoon. His hair has begun to gray at 37, but his smooth face creases only at the eyes when he smiles. We are sitting in his bare concrete office; the only decorations are a painting of Mother Theresa and a photograph of the Dalai Lama hung above his desk, both draped in kataks, white Tibetan blessing scarves. I tell Jamyang about my fear of the tonglen meditation. I ask him how he does not become overwhelmed by the endless need he sees around him, by the limits of his ability to relieve that suffering. As I am speaking, Jamyang nods, and punctuates my words with "yeah, yeah, yeah," as if he has heard all this before. "The important thing is we have the desire to help all," he tells me. "We cannot do as we are thinking, but we need to act as much as we can." But Jamyang does not really want to talk about this—he admits that while he occasionally attends prayers in the Dalai Lama's temple, he does not meditate. He would rather tell me about his hopes to expand health and educational programs to the more than three-dozen other displaced communities in the region. He has moved from his quiet quarters in Upper Dharamsala to a room near the hostel in Lower Dharamsala. For Jamyang, his work is his prayer and meditation, as constant for him as a breath. When I visit the girls' hostel, I am greeted by high, clipped voices, "Good morning Madam." Small hands lead me to a chair. The girls wear worn but clean clothes, and their hair is oiled and tightly braided. They stand up one-by-one to tell me their names, ages, and "aims"—they want to be doctors, scientists, and engineers. I can't keep the smile off my face as they show me around their hostel, tugging at my elbows, proudly pointing out their bright clean bunk beds. The staff of Tong-Len, a mixture of Indians and Tibetans, can tell you how many children, families, and communities they serve. Every year, they must make difficult decisions about which children the hostel can take. What they cannot count are the infinite needs of all those they are unable to help. Neither can they count the immeasurable effect of their compassion. "My aim is astronaut," says twelve-year-old Poonam, the quietest girl in the room. When I leave the hostel, gently untangling myself from the small fingers and high voices of the children who come from nothing but aim high, I feel lighter.
You can also see more of her writing on her personal blog, Seabrightly. Read More @ Source
|
| Tonglen: A Lesson in Giving and Taking Posted: 16 May 2012 08:00 AM PDT
Tonglen, as Judy Lief explains in the coming July 2012 issue of the Shambhala Sun, is a meditation practice in which "we breathe out what we normally cling to and breathe in what we usually avoid" to connect with suffering and change our relationship with others. In the following piece, Emily Strasser visits with a Tibetan monk in India who's putting tonglen into practice to help the children in his community. Ten years ago, a young Tibetan monk, Jamyang, sat outside his room in Dharamsala reading about the tonglen practice. The day was sunny, and above him the clouds played in the mountain peaks. From the Tibetan words tong, "to give," and len, "to take," tonglen describes a meditation in which the practitioner visualizes breathing in the suffering of the world in the form of thick black smoke, and breathing out his own joy and comfort, as clear and luminous air. When Jamyang looked up from his reading, he noticed three Indian boys in ragged clothes picking food out of a rotting garbage pile. The next day, Jamyang cooked a large lunch and shared his food with the boys. Over simple daily meals of rice and dal, Jamyang and the boys formed an unlikely friendship. They took Jamyang down to the Charan slum in Lower Dharamsala, where their families lived in temporary shelters made of bamboo poles covered in plastic sheeting. Jamyang was shocked to see that children without even garbage to eat were dying of malnutrition and diarrhea. The slum had no sanitary facilities. Alcohol abuse, disease, and domestic violence were rife. Himachal Pradesh, a fertile mountainous state with a growing economy, is home to more than 10,000 internally displaced people, driven from their homes in Rajasthan, Maharashtra, and Uttar Pradesh by environmental degradation and economic changes that have made their previous livelihoods unsustainable. They come to Dharamsala, with its thriving Tibetan exile community and steady stream of tourists, to maintain the winding mountain roads, haul cement for new guesthouses, fix the hiking boots of foreign trekkers, and beg. Many families move seasonally to follow the festival and tourist seasons. Jamyang immediately began collecting food, medicine, and clothing. He took people to the hospital. Yet he soon realized that addressing the material needs of the people was not sustainable. The Tong-Len Charitable Trust was registered in India in 2005 with the goal of supporting internally displaced people in the region by combating the root causes of poverty, focusing primarily on education for the children. The local government school is free, but child beggars provide an essential source of income for many families. Children enrolled in school attended only sporadically because their families moved so frequently. In 2005, Tong-Len set up a hostel near the slum to house school-aged children, provide meals, supervision, and academic support. That first year, there were just ten kids. In November 2012, a new hostel building was inaugurated by the Dalai Lama, and Tong-Len now houses about 90 children between the ages of seven and sixteen, divided equally between boys and girls. Jamyang hopes that after the children graduate and find jobs, they will return to help their communities. The four oldest students are in 10th class and will graduate in 2-3 years; they are some of the top students in the state. . . . The tonglen meditation scares me—I do not want to take the black smoke into my body; I am afraid to give away my own happiness. Stories like Jamyang's also scare me—when we allow ourselves to really see people and feel true compassion, we may never be able to turn away again. How much can we afford to let in? Jamyang did not ask himself that question when he shared his lunch with the slum kids that first afternoon. His hair has begun to gray at 37, but his smooth face creases only at the eyes when he smiles. We are sitting in his bare concrete office; the only decorations are a painting of Mother Theresa and a photograph of the Dalai Lama hung above his desk, both draped in kataks, white Tibetan blessing scarves. I tell Jamyang about my fear of the tonglen meditation. I ask him how he does not become overwhelmed by the endless need he sees around him, by the limits of his ability to relieve that suffering. As I am speaking, Jamyang nods, and punctuates my words with "yeah, yeah, yeah," as if he has heard all this before. "The important thing is we have the desire to help all," he tells me. "We cannot do as we are thinking, but we need to act as much as we can." But Jamyang does not really want to talk about this—he admits that while he occasionally attends prayers in the Dalai Lama's temple, he does not meditate. He would rather tell me about his hopes to expand health and educational programs to the more than three-dozen other displaced communities in the region. He has moved from his quiet quarters in Upper Dharamsala to a room near the hostel in Lower Dharamsala. For Jamyang, his work is his prayer and meditation, as constant for him as a breath. When I visit the girls' hostel, I am greeted by high, clipped voices, "Good morning Madam." Small hands lead me to a chair. The girls wear worn but clean clothes, and their hair is oiled and tightly braided. They stand up one-by-one to tell me their names, ages, and "aims"—they want to be doctors, scientists, and engineers. I can't keep the smile off my face as they show me around their hostel, tugging at my elbows, proudly pointing out their bright clean bunk beds. The staff of Tong-Len, a mixture of Indians and Tibetans, can tell you how many children, families, and communities they serve. Every year, they must make difficult decisions about which children the hostel can take. What they cannot count are the infinite needs of all those they are unable to help. Neither can they count the immeasurable effect of their compassion. "My aim is astronaut," says twelve-year-old Poonam, the quietest girl in the room. When I leave the hostel, gently untangling myself from the small fingers and high voices of the children who come from nothing but aim high, I feel lighter.
You can also see more of her writing on her personal blog, Seabrightly. Read More @ Source
|
| Buddhists and Christians gather to discuss greed Posted: 16 May 2012 07:00 AM PDT  Graymoor Spiritual Life Center (www.atonementfriars.org) Earlier this month in Garrison, New York, Buddhist and Christian clergy gathered at the Graymoor Spiritual Life Center for the ninth annual interreligious dialogue between members of both traditions (sponsored by the Franciscan Friars of the Atonement). "A Buddhist & Christian Understanding of Greed: Personal and Structural" was the topic for the day. All in attendance agreed that Christian scriptures and Buddhist sutras decry greed, though each offered different solutions to the problem. "Greed, anger and ignorance are three poisons which control us sometimes," said Rev. Kenjitsu Nakagaki, a Jodo Shinsu priest and the vice chairman of the Interfaith Center of New York. "Observing the precepts will remove the impurity of greed, concentrating the mind in meditation removes anger and gaining wisdom removes the impurity of foolishness or ignorance." He goes on to state that the practice of compassion is one effective way to eradicate greed within. A Catholic priest, Fr. Francis X. Mazur, ecumenical and interreligious officer for the Diocese of Buffalo, described greed in terms of sin, citing St. Augustine, who said that greed is "…a disabling sin that leads to envy, hatred and detraction." Fr. Mazur believes that greed comes from within and that "clergy should use preaching to challenge people to overcome it individually and within society." The purpose of such dialogue is to foster understanding between the two traditions through explorations on how life is to be lived, according to each. Fr. John Keane, a Franciscan who directs the dialogue, said, "We're not trying to convert each other, but to understand and to try to make the world a safer place to be." Read More @ Source
|
| Posted: 15 May 2012 01:00 PM PDT  Bluebells in hedgerow. Nature does it so well! Not for the first time I inwardly nodded with approval. Over the past few years, slowly but surely, a once crumbling building is being restored to a serviceable state. There is clearly a quality job being done. As I walked on it occurred to me that I might have been disapproving of this project. Interestingly I realized that it didn't matter in the slightest what I thought! Thoughts are not the thing. How easy it can be to get caught up in ones own thoughts. To approve of approving or disapprove of disapproving! Uh! What a mine field, thankfully this time just seen from the edge of the field. I walked on up the lane where life showed itself in that uplifting way which brings lightness to the step. A bird on a branch sings for you alone, a wildflower shows itself in its utter simplicity, an industrious Thrush pecks for worms. Lambs charm the way only new lambs can. Perhaps my regular steps past the builders work is much like being ignited by bird song, wild flowers and sunlight shafting through branches. I appreciate the beautiful brick work and the little architectural details emerging from the rubble. Brings a lightness to my step, now I think about it. So what am I getting at here? Perhaps a small reminder to walk with a lighter step inwardly and find inward compassion when judgmentalism has us walk with a heavy step. As we are within so we are with others. Read More @ Source
|
| “Nothing & Everything” book launch Wednesday at the Rubin Museum Posted: 15 May 2012 11:00 AM PDT
The book, which Michael Sheehy reviews in the upcoming Summer 2012 issue of Buddhadharma, largely focuses on Japanese Buddhist scholar D. T. Suzuki and his interactions with composer John Cage, who spawned the experimental art movement Fluxus and the "happenings" of the 1960s. Pearlman studies the interactions between Fluxus and Japanese art groups The Hi Red Center and Gutai, and the New York-based abstract expressionist group The Club, which held lectures on Zen Buddhism. And on the literary front, Pearlman chronicles how Beat writers like Allen Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac explored Buddhism in their search for new literary forms. The book launch will happen Wednesday at 7 p.m. at the Rubin Museum of Art at 150 W. 17th St. in New York. Admission is $ 15 ($ 13.50 for members.) Pearlman, a multimedia artist and author, has written several works about Buddhism and Asian culture, including a book and documentary about sacred dance in Tibet. Read More @ SourceMindfulness Stress Reduction And Healing 
This posting includes an audio/video/photo media file: Download Now |
Tomorrow, May 16, the Rubin Museum of Art in New York is | You are subscribed to email updates from BuddhaRocks ☸ Buddhist To stop receiving these emails, you may unsubscribe now. | Email delivery powered by Google |
| Google Inc., 20 West Kinzie, Chicago IL USA 60610 | |
