P II AN ACCOUNT OF HOW SUNIM CAME TO NEW YORK CITY …community of the Buddhist Society for Compassionate Wisdom through the exchange of information and improved communication. Spring

Spring Wind Fall/Winter 2014 1

Tribe One day I witnessed a girl being picked up by policemen who had a warrant. She kept shouting, “I’m not going home! I’m not going home!” Her boyfriend tried to intervene on her behalf, to no avail. I was told that the girl’s father was a person in a position of power, perhaps a congressman.

A few years later, I met a 17-year-old boy who was making his rounds visiting Buddhist groups. “When I left home, I warned my mother and looked straight in her eyes and realized I knew a lot more about life than her,” said he with a sweet, innocent southern drawl. It was “the best of times and the worst of times,” when being young was everything you needed in the world.

In the evenings, bars in Greenwich Village played over and over again “San Francisco (Be Sure to Wear Flowers in Your Hair),” the song by Scott McKenzie:

If you’re going to San Francisco You’re gonna meet some gentle people there. For those who come to San Francisco Summertime will be a love-in there In the streets of San Francisco (gentle people with flowers in their hair) All across the nation such a strange vibration People in motion There’s a whole generation with a new explanation People in motion, people in motion

It was a strangely beautiful, haunting sound calling the young to find their own tribes.

Vol. 2, No. 1 Fall/Winter 2014 Price: $6.50 USD

Part II AN ACCOUNT OF HOW SUNIM CAME TO NEW YORK CITY AND ALL THAT HAPPENED IN THE SUMMER OF 1967

In This Issue

Part II of Sunim’s NYC Account 1Song of Love and Compassion 6 Masan Bosalnim 8 Buddha’s Birthday Celebration 14Buddhas ... in Manhattan 15Precept Ceremony 22 NYC, Mexico City News 24Profile: Maum Gloria Cox 26Peace Camp 2014 27Toronto, Chicago News 28No Seogamoni Buddha in Front 30Community News 31Seminary Updates 31

Part 1 of “An Account of How

Sunim Came to New York & All That Happened in the Summer of 1967” appeared in Vol 1, No. 1 Fall 2009

We are delighted to present a revived Spring Wind Newsletter. The purpose of this biannual newsletter is to connect and serve the Spring Wind community of the Buddhist Society for Compassionate Wisdom through the exchange of information and improved communication. Spring Wind Newsletter seeks to bring our sanghas together while informing the public of Buddhist tradition and promoting Buddhism in everyday life. We also strive to facilitate the encounter between Buddhism and Western society. We invite your feedback and welcome your contributions in the form of local news, short articles, photographs, artwork, and letters to the editor as together we walk the Way of Buddha in North America.

2 Spring Wind Fall/Winter 2014

The owner of the house I was staying in, the one with the five black cats, was a nighttime hippie. She would start her day in the late afternoon or evening and stay up all night visiting pubs and her friends' homes. Often I could not tell whether she was in the house or not. Often I was the only soul there. One day when I came home, I saw her sitting on the couch and playing with the cats. I was happy to see her and sat down across from her. I was always curious about the five black cats, so I asked her about them. She remained silent, then became emotional. I realized I must have touched her sensitive side, so I apologized. Eventually she shared the following story of her life.

She was left with a French family in Paris after the Nazis took her parents in 1941. She survived the Occupation under the protection of this family. Through the post-war period and the 1960s, she attended school and earned a living, holding different odd jobs. Then by accident she learned that she had an uncle living in New York City. After a number of futile inquiries, she finally made contact with him. He was greatly astonished to learn that his kin had survived Nazi persecution and invited her to New York City right away. A successful attorney in Manhattan, her uncle bought her a house as a gift and gave her a monthly allowance. “All of a sudden, life became so easy and so much fun!” she said with a nasal French accent. Then, cuddling the cats, she uttered, “they are my babies,” softly, as if to herself, with a tinge of regret. After a pause, she made another confession: over the last six years, she had lost five babies through miscarriages and abortions. She was raising the five cats in memory of the five babies she lost.

During my short stay in Greenwich Village, I met some wonderful people, many of whose names I can't remember. There was an African American poet who read me his poems. When I visited his apartment, he would greet me with a soft smile and make

me feel at home with his quiet manner and peaceful air. There was also a stocky energetic person I ran into one evening at sundown in Washington Square Park. When our eyes met, our smiles led us to each other. It was an intimate, immediate and spontaneous encounter. This man, Mr. P., was in a rush, so he asked if I could meet him at the bar on the corner two hours later. Of course I could; in the park and in the Village, we were all good friends to each other without having met before. When I got there, he was waiting for me. With a broad smile on his face, he said that he remembered right away reading Jack Kerouac’s On the Road and The Dharma Bums when he saw me in the park. This made me remember an American traveler who had visited our monastery outside Seoul, South Korea, two years before. He carried with him the pocket edition of these same two books. I began to realize the power and influence On the Road and The Dharma Bums had on the hippies and 1960s counterculture.

Mr. P. didn’t drink or smoke grass, but he was popular in the bar. He got along just fine with people who were high or drunk. Indeed, it seemed that he really enjoyed being with them and had as much fun there as they did. I thought it was a quality of life par excellence! With the passing of time, people would begin to head home

still high or drunk. Some would look to Mr. P. for a ride, and immediately he sprang into action. I realized then that delivering them home safely was his real assignment. He did it cheerfully and enjoyed doing it every night. He was so natural and perfectly at ease with everything he did. I marveled at him. What a bodhisattva born again!

There was also Ms. S., a high school teacher. She was a Caucasian woman who would visit the park and the Village after school and on weekends to hang around with the African Americans who also spent time there. Ms. S. was beautiful and genial and had no difficulty attracting anyone. At first, it was not clear to me what she was doing there, but then I saw that her feelings were genuine. Not only did she feel good being there with them, but they also felt good being there with her. They were like good friends and brothers and sisters together. As such, she would allow them to touch her. She would walk around or stand holding their hands or arms. Occasionally Ms. S. would sit down on the bench and the young men would surround her, some of whom began to touch her private parts while others hugged her. I watched with increasing concern and alarm, but she showed neither resistance nor emotion except her usual kind smile. Once while this was happening, Ms. S. pointed her finger to the sky, and everybody looked in that direction. After a long day, the sun was setting between buildings, casting long shadows in its trail. Instantly we were liberated from our senses by the splendor of the setting sun. It was an amazing transformation! It seemed that her finger was pointing to that which is noble, true and infinite inherent in each of us beyond race and gender. Silhouetted against the evening glow, she resembled a goddess. I believe that Ms. S. was a temporary manifestation of Kwanseum Bosal, the bodhisattva of great love and compassion. “All beings are endowed with Buddha nature.” Awakened sentient beings

Sunim and NYC continued

The ten directions are filled with potential

and original buddhas.

But it takes bodhisattvas to raise buddhas.

It is said that one good bodhisattva is capable of producing fifty buddhas.


become buddhas. Deluded buddhas become sentient beings. Therefore, there were buddhas in the past. There are buddhas in the present. There will be buddhas in the future. The ten directions are filled with potential and original buddhas. But it takes bodhisattvas to raise buddhas. It is said that one good bodhisattva is capable of producing fifty buddhas. Bodhisattvas postpone their own salvation until all beings attain their Buddhahood, so that “there may be neither buddhas nor sentient beings in the end.”

There are times when people wake up spontaneously in response to social change and crisis and become beings with wisdom hearts or bodhisattvas for the sake of the world. In the 1960s, the civil rights movement, the sexual revolution, the feminist movement, the peace movement and the human potential movement touched and called everyone to higher awareness. People were open, receptive and eager to make the world a better place. It was heartening and uplifting to see so many people extending themselves selflessly for the cause of peace and happiness for all. Yes, change--transformative change--was blowin’ in the wind. My experiences in San Francisco and New York helped me appreciate the value of a free, democratic society and got me acquainted with American popular culture.

The Work BeginsBefore long I came to realize that I had to earn a living. In early September, I left Greenwich Village and the tribe and got a job with UPS. I worked the night shift

sorting parcels and putting them on a conveyor belt. Most of my coworkers were self-supporting students attending city colleges. With my first pay, I rented a flat at 454 W. 45th Street in Manhattan. It was here I performed my first Dharma activity in the West, conducting meditation for the public. I invited people to join me for

sitting Saturday afternoons and Sunday mornings. During the week, I sat alone for an hour before I went to work. I informed the people I met in Washington Square Park and Greenwich Village and the people

I ran into on the streets or subway. I would give them the time if they showed interest in meditation. I did not have a telephone, so I waited for the doorbell. If no one showed up, I sat with insentient beings of walls and buildings and breathed with city plants and trees. If one person showed up, I honored his presence as if it were that of ten people and practiced meditation together with great encouragement and the power of Bodhisattva vows. If two people showed up, I honored their presence as that of twenty people and practiced meditation together with the vigor of Sangha.

I was the product of a mountain monastic community, but now I was faced with an open society and a secular audience. I remembered an old Dharma song: “The very reason why the Way of Buddha is available in the world / Is because you can awaken to your Buddhanature without renouncing the world. / To think otherwise would be like looking for horns on a hare.”

I was a product of a mountain monastic community, but now I was faced with an

open society and a secular audience.

I remembered an old Dharma song:

The very reason why the Way of Buddha is available in the world

Is because you can awaken to your Buddhanature without renouncing the world.

To think otherwise would be like looking for horns on a hare.

Samu Sunim visiting his mother’s grave in September 1982


So I began to build an urban monastic community without rules or walls. The name I gave to our group was Seon-Zen Lotus Society (later Zen Lotus Society, now Buddhist Society for Compassionate Wisdom). I used the lotus to signify not just the traditional meaning of remaining pure and untainted in the mud or to recall the transformative image of “lotus in fire,” but also to signify the mother of all buddhas and bodhisattvas in ordinary, everyday life. Enlightenment is inherent in everyday life, so one’s ordinary everyday life is the Way of Buddha, and the Way of Buddha does not exist apart from this.

Some people showed up out of curiosity, while others came with a serious interest in Zen meditation and/or Buddhism. Some found it extremely difficult sitting still, not doing anything like thinking, wondering and worrying, just watching and counting outgoing breath; others enjoyed the striking simplicity of sitting in peace and the pure, authentic experience of concentration. Gradually I built a sangha of a dozen regulars. Occasionally we had an all-day retreat on the weekend. It is a noble and uplifting thing to seek to help

and empower oneself in order to help others or to live one’s life with a helping hand for the world. I admired and deeply appreciated those who came in pursuit of peace and happiness for the world through their cultivation.

Unusual Visitors Occasionally I had unusual visitors. One day I got a call from a woman who was looking for a room in the monastery for a retreat. I told her I had a flat with no bedroom. “What do you do for people?” she asked. “I offer meditation.” “That’s just what I need,” she said and asked for the address. A short while later, she showed up in a taxi. She was beautiful and very well dressed. It was obvious at first glance that she was out of place, but she did not seem to mind. I showed her how to sit and play a mountain: that is, sitting firm and solid, holding the back straight and soaring up in majestic silence like a high lofty mountain. Then I instructed her to face the wall and watch her breath in great solidarity with allbeings sentient and insentient. About ten minutes later, she turned around and said, “My thoughts are driving me crazy. How can I stop my thoughts?”

“You cannot stop your thoughts," I said. "When you watch a mountain in the distance, you see clouds hovering around mountain tops. Then you realize that the floating clouds do not hurt the mountain, nor does the mountain stand in the way of clouds passing through. Your thoughts are like clouds that wander around. They are impermanent. Stop worrying about your thoughts. Concentrate your mind by watching the breath that is your life force for one minute, two minutes or three minutes and learn to become less subject to what-is of changing nature (impermanence).” She sat again facing the wall. About ten minutes later, she turned around and asked, “Enough for today?” She got up, said, “I’ll be back for more lessons!” and left.

Three days later, some time in the afternoon, she came again. As soon as she sat down, she asked right away, “How can I control my mind?” I remained silent for a while so as to create a wordless space in her mind. Then I said slowly, “You cannot control your mind. Your mind is like the sky. It is vast, empty and infinite.” She looked lost at first, then was overcome with emotion and sobs.

According to her, she had been a talented opera singer in Italy until she met an American businessman visiting Rome five years ago. She dated him on and off for two years whenever he visited Italy on business trips. Then he invited her to New York City, promising her a wonderful life and a bright future for her career. “It was all empty promises, baloney! Do you understand?” she said looking straight at me. “He kept me in his penthouse for three years!” When she wanted to go out alone, the doorman would call her boyfriend the businessman. Either he would come to escort her or else she was not allowed to go. “I’d rather be a captive in a convent than a captive in a penthouse!” she shouted. After another sob she said, “I’m now living

Sunim and NYC continued

Samu Sunim with his nieces after visiting his mother’s grave mound in Sancheong, South Korea


in the hospital. I’ve become mentally ill from having lived in confinement in the penthouse. So I’ve had myself admitted to the hospital. Now he comes to visit me during visiting hours.” She smiled, then suddenly asked, “Can you visit me in the hospital?” When I hesitated, she begged me, “please.” I simply had to say yes. She gave me the address and directions, date and time. Before she left she said, “Bring me a flower” and waved. On the appointed day, I bought a flower and went to visit her. While I was visiting, a nurse came by and whispered to her. Right away she became alert and waved me away. On my way out, I almost ran into her very important visitor, who was carrying a bouquet of flowers. I wondered how in the world she had found out about my apartment meditation place. In all likelihood, she must have visited Washington Square Park and Greenwich Village.

*

One day a policeman on his beat in the subway approached me in a friendly way. He must have seen me around because he asked, “Do you teach a martial art?” “No,” I said with a smile, because I was asked the question before. “What do you teach?” “Buddhism and meditation.” “What’s that?” “You can come Saturday morning and find out yourself if you’re interested.” I gave him my address and phone number. At five minutes to 10:00 on Saturday morning, his wife called to let me know that her husband was on the way but would be ten minutes late. “He’s very interested and excited,” she added before hanging up. After 10:00, I went downstairs so as not to disturb the other meditators. As soon as he arrived, I gave him three simple instructions: to sit still in silence, to maintain awareness by keeping his eyes half open and to count his outgoing breaths from 1 to 36 over and over again. Then I took him into the meditation room and instructed him to join the others sitting and facing the wall.

He must have sensed that I had concerns about him, so before he sat on the mat he said, “I’ll sit still. I’ll be quiet.” However, as soon as he sat down for meditation, he

started chewing gum, loudly. “Ccchak…ccchak…” In the dead quiet and stillness, the noise of bubble gum can be as loud as a bomb explosion. It was obvious that he was alien to the culture of silence and solitude. After a couple of minutes, I went over and gently tapped his shoulder to signal him to stop chewing the gum. Now, not only did I not succeed in silencing him, but I also startled him. In addition to continuing to chew his bubble gum with a vengeance, he was now also fully alert and ready to defend or attack. Every now and then he would turn around to assess the situation and find out what was going on. Maybe he was expecting a spectacular martial arts performance or a flying kick or a secret teaching to upend the enemy in a second. When he finally realized that none of these was forthcoming, he got up and left unceremoniously.

With the trees shedding their leaves at the end of October, the long Summer of Love was over at Washington Square Park. It had been a continuous party, a smorgasbord of people on the road of consciousness, every day throughout the summer and into the fall. I attended this great party once, sometimes twice a week. The park was not a big one: a water fountain, some trees and a few benches were all that made up the park. But it was here where, in addition to the colorful characters I've already described, I also met an ex-Catholic nun who took off her habit and left the convent for social engagement; a radical revolutionary who aspired to be like Ché Guevara; and a disabled female artisan who hoped to promote arts and handicrafts among common, ordinary people in order to raise the cultural standard of living, with the result that people would learn to be content with less and contribute to the nonviolent culture of peace and happiness for all.

Tom, one of the regulars at the meditation sittings, received his draft notice. It was not unexpected. But when it became a reality, he became very nervous and frightened. With each passing day, his anxiety increased. He told me that he didn't want

to kill people, nor did he want to end up as one of the body bags he he saw on TV coverage of the Vietnam War. I said to him, "you deserve to be alive and well. Don't be afraid, but seek alternatives." He came for meditation every day in order to overcome fear and maintain peace of mind. In the meantime, I learned he had been able to be enlisted in the Navy. He was concerned

that he would still be shipped to Vietnam. He was also in contact with the War Resisters Union in Canada. Then one day he stopped coming and disappeared, leaving me wondering whether he had gone to Vietnam or Canada.

The End of the DaydreamI kept visiting the park and Village. The flower children, acid heads, and freaks were all gone. Their hangouts were empty and deserted. Their whereabouts? Most probably they had retired to their communes or gone south to California for winter hibernation. Often I was sitting alone in the park. Barely two months ago, throngs of hippies, squares, and tourists had been milling around. Now they had disappeared like a daydream. I was left in a cultural shock.

It snowed and the weather turned cold. It was Christmas season with decorative lights and shopping, followed by the New Year's Eve frenzy. The celebrations

When you watch a mountain in the distance, you see clouds hovering around mountain tops.

Then you realize that the floating clouds do not hurt the mountain, nor does the mountain

stand in the way of clouds passing through.


and hoopla were all new to me. I felt I was a "stranger in a strange land."I was visited by two FBI agents in October. They knew that I had entered the country illegally. In 1963 I was drafted into the South Korean Army. After serving for one year, I deserted. In August 1967 I arrived in New York City with the help of

many good friends. The FBI agent told me I could leave voluntarily to avoid deportation. So it became my turn to go to Canada. I arrived in Montreal in early February of 1968 where I found a home and ended a long journey towards the non-violent resolution of conflict.

*In March of 1989, the U.S. Immigration Office paroled Sunim for his illegal entry into the country, for which he was never charged, and issued a document for multiple entries for "humanitarian reasons." Sunim received a US passport in July 2001.

Love is inherent, immanent in all life.Yet it does not manifest until you open your heart.

Children play, birds fly, flowers bloom:This is the dance of lifeThis is the expression of love.

Chickens coo, crickets chirp, waves lap:This is the song of life.This is the cantata of love.

Feel the joy of love when you hear kind words.Feel the joy of love when you see sunlight kissing people at work.Feel the sorrow of love when you see loss of life.Feel the sorrow of love when you hear mournful cries of the suffering.

Refrain:Salute the Way of Dharma in everyday life.Praise Suchness!Now’s the time to love!

Love is eternal.Love is the beloved.You are love when in love.SelflessFearlessFreeEverywhere in every being.

Reaching out with a helping hand for allFlowing like a streamGreening the earth with love.Love is joyComplete and pure.Love is happiness for all.Love is powerful beyond measure.

If you lack in loveOffer your bodyOffer your speechOffer your thoughtsIn prostrations over and over.

Refrain:Trust the way of love in sentient beings.Praise Suchness!Now’s the time to love!

Compassion is Bodhisattva love.Bodhisattvas make a vow:To remove painTo remove delusion from ailing hearts.

To encourage the sufferingTo lift their life from miseryTo remind ordinary people they are future buddhas.

Bodhisattvas are friends to people in need.They are cold with those who are coldHomeless with those who are homelessFrightened with those who fear.

Bodhisattvas in disguise are all around us.Imitate them if you can.

Refrain:Support your Dharma friends.Praise the Three Jewels!Now’s the time to practice compassion!

Be a friend to all in distress.Be a lover to all in pain.Treat strangers as your kin.The road to compassion is strewn with obstacles.

SONG OF LOVE aND COMPaSSION By Samu Sunim, December 2013


Obstacles are gifts,Training aids for aspiring bodhisattvas.The road to compassion is strewn with slights.Slights are gifts.Mistreatment will free you from karmic strife.

Refrain:Honor your Buddha within.Praise the Three Jewels!Now’s the time to heal the world!

Our planet earth is suffering.Greed is the chief cause.Ignorance the big obstruction.Negligence the main hurdle.

We have been harmful and destructive for too long.Stop being wasteful.Consume less.

Change your lifeTo live in harmony with all beings.

Together we must mend the planet.Each must be content with lessAll can be happy with empty-full heart.

Inspire all beings to wake up.Inspire all beings to be valiant.Inspire all beings to heal Mother Earth.

Forswear excessFor the sake of all that lives.

Refrain:Rise up for ecological justice.Shun complacency.Praise the Three Jewels!Now’s the time to protect water, soil and air!

Drawing by Toan Josemaria Castelao


MASAN BOSALNIM by Samu Sunim

I first met Masan Bosalnim in the spring of 1974 in Toronto. Bosalnim, literally bodhisattva, is a term of respect for female devotees in Korea. On December 29, 1973, I fell in the snow, unconscious, on my way to the nightshift at CNE Coliseum where the Canada Post Office had set up a parcel depot. I worked there sorting parcels over the Christmas season. I woke up in the midst of commotion. I was being taken to the Emergency Room of Toronto Western Hospital. “Where does it hurt?” asked the examining doctor. I tried to think and then remembered the swelling on my neck. I pointed to the abscess behind my right ear. The doctor said they had to open it up. Then I fainted or they anesthetized me. When I woke up again in a haze, one of the doctors informed me that they found TB germs. They said I had to go to the sanitarium for three months. I was told to go home for my things and return in three hours with only the essentials. My heart sank when I realized that I was suddenly

a patient with a serious illness. I stayed overnight at the hospital. The following morning they arranged transportation to take me to the sanitarium.

I thought that the sanitarium would be located far in the countryside for quarantine, but it turned out that it was just outside the city limits. I began my patient life on New Year’s Eve in the ward that I was to share with 12 others. I was given a patient gown that I had to wear all the time and was told to stay indoors. Each weekday morning, the doctor on duty, accompanied by nurses, made rounds to check each patient. Other than that, patients played games, strolled the corridors, watched movies, killed time in idle chitchat or took naps. Soon people got bored with so much time on their hands and nothing else to do. As I became accustomed to the daily routine it dawned on me that this was the ideal place for my three-month retreat. After all, a sanitarium

was the right place for meditation on impermanence and release from the deluded cycle of birth-and-death, the goal of all Buddhist practice.

I immediately picked up my hwadu practice and observed silence. I tried to avoid distractions but my silence and reclusive behavior became the target of the patients’ attention instead. I was the only Asian in our ward. There was a Native Indian who was reticent. He was bulky and heavy and understood colloquial English perfectly. He was their first choice for teasing. The Indian endured the teasing with a gracious smile and avoided confrontation. I was impressed with his non-violent attitude. He was my teacher. When he reached the limit of his patience, he would quietly leave. Then they turned on me. I was small and my English was poor, so the value of their teasing diminished significantly compared with that of the Indian.

Masan Bosalnim with her Buddhist friends


Still they tried to poke fun. I must have looked goofy with my bewildered and awkward smile. After observing all of this for a few days, a patient who was a Korean War vet declared that I must have been shell shocked in the Korean War (1950-1953). Now everyone seemed to understand why I behaved the way I did. Unexpectedly it was a huge relief for me! After that they wrote me off and left me alone. I was grateful for the opportunity to do my retreat. However, it had to be cut short. In the second week of February 1974, the doctor making morning rounds told me after examining my progress report that I could go home.

I came home armed with several months’ supply of 5 or 6 different medications and all the instructions I had to follow. But my mind was set on doing retreat. The very next morning, I sat before the altar and made a vow to do a three-year retreat, which I had promised to my master Seolbong Sunim. I faithfully took all the medications and followed instructions for one week. Then my dislike for pills and my trust in the healing power of my body-mind and Dharma practice prevailed. I stopped taking medications and started a series of fasts, which turned out to be completely wrong.

In early April, I was visited by five Korean bosalnims. They learned that there was a Korean monk living in a basement apartment. They came to ask me to conduct Sunday service for Korean Buddhists in Toronto and to provide spiritual guidance for new immigrants. After some hesitation, I reluctantly accepted their request. Their request was natural and proper, but my mind was preoccupied with retreat. It was a small revolution to the monastic (ipan) whose pure and unworldly practice had become an obsession to do retreat while being involved in worldly affairs (sapan).

I was aware of the challenges ahead. I might fail miserably both in personal cultivation and in serving the world. Like a hwadu, I thought of the Bodhisattva Samantabhadra’s ninth Vow “Follow

sentient beings” long and hard. I figured that I had to be willing to learn from people and to keep waking up in the harsh realities of everyday life, like a lotus in muddy water. I was certain about one thing—I cannot goof off. The bosalnims invited me to lunch, and I followed them to a Korean restaurant on Bloor Street.

Three days later a Korean bosalnim came by carrying rice, candles and incense. The sight of her took me back in time to the poor Korean countryside and the Buddhist culture of devotional worship by female devotees. She was plain and unlearned, but pure and naturally graceful in her manner. After prostrations before the altar, she told me that she had seen me at the Korean restaurant three days before. She said that she came to Canada with her two young daughters eight months before at the invitation of her son who immigrated to Ontario after working in mines in Germany for five years. Bosalnim and her two daughters stayed with her son’s family in Welland, Ontario for the first three months. Then they moved to Toronto for her daughters’ education.

About three months previously she got a job washing dishes at the restaurant. She said she never looked in direction of the dining hall while working at the back of the

restaurant. But the day I had lunch with the five bosalnims, she wanted to take a look towards the dining hall for no particular reason. When she saw me through a small window, she could hardly believe it. She had to ask her co-workers, “He’s a sunim (Buddhist monk), right?” “He must be, looks like one,” said one co-worker. She was overjoyed. “I never thought that I could find a Korean sunim or Buddhist temple in Canada,” she said. She had a hard time locating me because few people knew where I lived even though I didn’t live far from the restaurant. Finally someone who knew of my whereabouts told her, “It’s not a temple where he is living. It’s someone’s basement.” “If there’s a Buddha statue and sunim, it must be a temple, isn’t it?” “Show me where, I beg of you,“ she said.

Bosalnim would come twice a week, Monday, her day off, and another morning during the week, and prepare a meal for me. She would do 108 prostrations while I had my meal. Then she would wash dishes and clean the meditation room and bathroom, and then go to work or return home. She could not get Sunday off from her job, therefore, she could not join the Korean Sunday service for a couple of months. When she came she would hardly say anything and would move around so quietly that sometimes I was unaware of her presence. It was towards the end of April. Forsythia and tulips were in bloom. The bosalnims attending Sunday service began to voice their concern about the lack of preparation for Buddha’s birthday celebrations after watching me for any signs for three weeks. I had to remind them that this place was a retreat center, not a temple, and that I was living in an apartment building. There was a tenant next to us in the basement. We were not allowed to hold a public event in the apartment.

But the real reason I was reluctant was my resistance to getting involved in any cumbersome public event and fear of losing my personal retreat. The bosalnims were visibly upset. On Monday, Masan Bosalnim arrived (she lived many years in

I thought of the Bodhisattva

Samantabhadra’s Ninth Vow “Follow sentient

beings” long and hard.

I figured that I had to be willing to learn from people and to keep waking up in

the harsh realities of everyday life, like a

lotus in muddy water.


the city of Masan, a southern port city of South Korea, so we started calling her by the city name). After her devotions and cleaning she approached me quietly and asked me discreetly, “When is Buddha’s birthday this year?” When I gave her the date she asked, “When are you going to start the preparations?” “I would like to help,” she added. With great difficulty I repeated what I said to the other bosalnims. After a long pause, she asked, “Does that mean we are not going to celebrate Buddha’s birthday?” Unable to bear the pain of hurting this wonderful Bosalnim I said, “Of course we’ll celebrate the Buddha’s birthday but quietly and informally.” “How about dedicating lanterns?” she asked. I said, “This ceiling is too low (7 feet), and we don’t have the materials to make lanterns.”

She remained silent for a while. Then with sobs and tears Masan Bosalnim told me the following heartbreaking story.

At the age of 13, Masan Bosalnim married a tinker. Her husband had neither home nor savings. Not only that, he had to travel from village to village and town to town for work, living from hand to mouth. She recalled traveling with him carrying cooking utensils and sleeping gear and crashing anywhere they could stretch their legs and protect themselves from rain and cold at night. Their life was worse than that of animals. “Animals had a nest and home. We had nothing,” she said. “It is appalling even to think how I did it. I was young and did not know anything. Soon I got used to the hardships, poverty and deprivations. Then, to add to the miseries, I became pregnant and delivered my first baby on the road. I thought I was going to die. Luckily a grandma in a nearby village came to help and took me and the baby to rest in her house for a few days.”

“After the first baby, I kept having babies in

succession one after the other.” However, the joy and happiness of nursing babies and raising children did not last very long. Bosalnim became worried about feeding and clothing the children. When the first boy was born, her husband was happy and became helpful. He was now more obligated to provide a living for his family. But he was unable to support the increasing number of small children with his piecemeal and random earnings from mending pots and pans. Unfortunately, hardships bring unwelcome companions. At the end of a long and hard day, hungry and whining children got on his nerves. Out of frustration he would become angry and depressed. Then it turned for the worse. He started drinking.

Bosalnim said little, positive or negative, about her husband who was 15 years older than she. She said, “It was herding a flock of hungry piglets from place to place.” She was tired of her family’s vagrant life. But more than anything else, they were starving. So she decided to take care of her children by herself. As she put it, “I began to understand things a little better while raising children.” She took her children and moved to Masan. With the help of her relatives she rented a room and opened a roadside stand selling seasonal produce. In summer she would sell melons, watermelons and peaches. In fall she carried roasted chestnuts, baked sweet potatoes and persimmons, and in winter marine produce.

But spring brought hardship when food shortages were most severe in the countryside. Bosalnim gave birth to 11 children. She lost three and raised four sons and four daughters. The big ones left home to feed themselves. In one rented room she huddled with the younger ones waiting for the green shoots on the sunny side of the mountain to appear. After a series of balmy days she would take her

children to get greens from the fields and on the mountain. From her years of experience she said she could tell edible plants from the inedible just by touching them. Her favorites were shepherd’s purse, amaranth, crown daisy, and mugwort. But she said many hardy wild plants would also serve as food during famine including roadside dandelions found everywhere. However, vegetable soups and thick mixed mugwort porridge alone were unable to nurse their chronic malnutrition and even those wild edible greens were in short supply to feed five mouths everyday.

During the Korean War, Bosalnim rented a room near quayside. There were many vessels in port waiting to unload war supplies. Unfortunately, war and social disorder drove some of the poor and homeless to stealing and swindling as a means of survival. At night they would organize themselves, climb aboard the ships at anchor and steal the supplies to sell in the black market. One morning Bosalnim heard something fall “plop” outside. Through a small sealed window, she saw a box in the yard. She said, “I know that the box fell into the wrong place, so I waited for half a day for someone to come and take it. I was afraid to touch anything that did not belong to us, but I was more concerned that the box (which turned out to be rations) might tempt my children.” When no one came to retrieve the box, she went out and placed it outside the fence.

While listening to her story I remembered the time I stole rice from home when I was nine or ten years old. Being the youngest child I was living alone with my mother. We had a house, but our food supplies were dangerously low. I would have watery porridge for breakfast and go to school. It took me thirty or forty minutes to walk home from school. After crossing the bridge over the bank—old city limit—I would feel dizzy and had to sit down for

Masan Bosalnim continued


a little while. When I got home there was no lunch. We had two meals, breakfast and dinner. The days were growing longer. It would be a long while before dinner. I was always hungry. It was enough to drive me crazy. I was always looking for something to eat, crumbs of something. But the house was barren!

One afternoon when I came home, my mother was nowhere to be seen. After some hesitation, I went straight to the clothes chest that belonged to mother, the only place in the house I never touched, and opened it. As expected, I found a rice bag. Right away I took two handfuls and put them in my pocket. I scarcely began to secretly chew a mouthful of grain out in the yard when I saw mother standing before me looking at me. I might have felt better if she had reproached me severely, but she remained silent and showed no emotion. At that moment, I felt like running away, but something inside forced me to surrender. I approached mother with a heavy heart. She passed her hand over my head and stroked it gently, and I broke down and cried long. The emergency rice bag and some textiles were all she had to support our family until the dry field

produce was available in June. In case of emergency, she would exchange them for cash but most probably she kept the rice bag to spare us from starvation. It must have been agony to see me suffering from hunger. I never saw her shedding tears, but she must have shed many tears in silence. At that, I must have been the cause of many of those silent tears.

“It was when we were living in the makeshift hut on the hillside in Masan,” continued Masan Bosalnim. “It was in May and borigogae (late spring famine before the barley harvest). Spring greens were all gone or they had grown too tough and coarse to eat. White flowers bloomed on trees and owls kept hooting, but there was no food. There were more days to go without food than with food. Too weak to exert ourselves we were all lying down. One day mudang (female shaman) in the neighborhood who helped Bosalnim from time to time and whom Masan Bosalnim called ‘Big Sister’ sent someone to inform me that it was Buddha’s Birthday and that I had to visit a Buddhist temple. I said to her that I never visited a Buddhist temple before. I was just too busy eking out a precarious existence. But Buddha’s Birthday or not, I was too weak to walk any

distance let alone go to visit a temple in the mountains.”

Before long Big Sister came and said, “Wake up, wake up! Get ready!” Bosalnim protested, “I’m dirty and disheveled. I have no proper clothes to put on.” “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of that,” said Big Sister who motioned to her two friends to help her lift Masan Bosalnim. They brought water to wash Bosalnim’s face and combed her hair. Then they brought food. Too weak to resist, Bosalnim entrusted herself to them. “How wonderful to visit a temple on the Buddha’s Birthday. It’s your mind, not the body, that carries you to the temple!” With such words of comfort, Big Sister and her two friends practically carried Bosalnim to the mountain temple with a halting ritual. “What am I supposed to do when I get to the temple?” Bosalnim asked Big Sister. “Tell the buddhas and bodhisattvas what’s in your mind,“ was her surprisingly curt reply.

When they finally arrived, Bosalnim was short of breath and was feeling giddy to the point of fainting. So they left her to rest under the shade of a giant tree in the temple compound. After a long rest she felt good and gained some strength. Bosalnim saw many grandmothers all clad in white accompanied by their daughters-in-law and grandchildren gathering amid the fragrant pine pollen blowing in the wind. They were all carrying bundles of grain, fruit, candles or incense on their heads for the altar. Some were clad in grey and carried tote bags on their backs like monks. It was a very different world from what she was used to. She followed them toward the Daeungjeon or Main Buddha Hall. The stone stairs to the Daeungjeon were long and steep. In her emaciated condition, it was a difficult climb. She crawled on all fours with frequent stops and finally made it to the Daeungjeon.

When Bosalnim saw the big Buddha on the altar she wanted to do prostrations. She performed five prostrations. That’s all she could do. She sat down to catch her breath and look at the big Buddha. She

Masan Bosalnim (left, standing) with Seon Master Weolha



said, “Then suddenly tears started flowing, first a trickle, then a flow and after that a cascade. I thought my tear fountain had been long since dry. There must have been a hidden one. With old sorrow and sadness welling up inside, tears gushed forth like torrents. I must have cried for a good half hour. I felt good. I felt light and clear as if having removed a 100-year obstacle that had been oppressing me. Suddenly, everything was clear and open as if the dark clouds in the overcast sky were swept away.”

Bosalnim came out of the Daeungjeon and joined Big Sister and the two friends. Right away Big Sister read the change taking place in Bosalnim. “Did you see anything Younger Sister or did the Lord Buddha say something to you?” asked Big Sister. “I saw the big Buddha, that was good enough,” replied Bosalnim.

“Are you happy now?”“Today is the happiest day in my life. This is all thanks to you, Big Sister.”

Big Sister helped Bosalnim dedicate two lanterns, one for buddhas and bodhisattvas in the world and the other for her children. When they came home, Big Sister invited Bosalnim to her shrine and asked her to hold the bamboo. She recounted, “Big Sister invoked a spirit through a prayer chant. Big Sister kept asking me, ‘Are you receiving it?’ Then she asked me to jump. To my big surprise, my body jumped nimbly up and down by itself. Then she said, ‘Now you’re ready. You’ll make a good, genuine mudang.’ I declined and told her, ‘The Way of Buddha is good for me. I’ll serve big buddhas and bodhisattvas wholeheartedly,’ and I came home.”

“From then on, I have always cherished (the thought of) Buddha in my heart. Being poor and hard-pressed, I cannot go

to temple often. But at least once a year on Buddha’s Birthday I have gone to the temple to see the Buddha and dedicate lanterns. It was at the Buddha’s Birthday in May that I met the Buddha of my heart!” Bosalnim was looking straight at me. I told her that I would celebrate Buddha’s Birthday full-heartedly.

Her story touched me deeply. But more than anything else I realized while listening to her story that I was attached to the signs and forms of my retreat. If I could do retreat while cooking, washing dishes and having a bowel movement, why couldn’t I do retreat while celebrating a public ceremony? A true practice and study of mind do not take any fixed forms or marks. Therefore, one can practice and study anywhere and anytime unnoticed and invisibly. Furthermore, non-monastic practitioners cannot goof off, only monastic practitioners who enjoy the benefit and protection of renunciation can goof off. I reminded myself of the sayings of past teachers, “Practice in the midst of activities is superior to practice in quiet. “

When the Sunday service bosalnims learned of my decision, they were overjoyed and sprang into action for Buddha’s Birthday preparations. I was struck by their skills and resourcefulness. They organized themselves to make paper lanterns, decorate the altar and seonbang (Meditation Room) and prepare a feast. My role was to run their errands. It was my duty to hang finished lanterns from the ceiling. The basement ceiling was so low that a tall person could nearly touch it. Now with delicate lanterns hanging close to the ceiling, we had to bend low while walking in the Buddha Room. No trouble, the bosalnims were happy and excited. They must have been feeling free doing what they liked and being at ease with themselves for the first time since they came to Canada where they were limited

to taking care of their grandchildren while their sons and daughters were at work. The bosalnims chanted, sang traditional inspirational songs and laughed out loud working together. It made me happy to watch them working and enjoying Dharma friendship by sharing their life stories and Buddhist experiences in easy conversation. I was learning from them the meaning of “Follow sentient beings,” the ninth Vow of universal vision Bodhisattva Samantabhadra.

On the day of the celebration, I used a substitute to ring the temple bell. In my formal Dharma talk I reminded the bosalnims that together we were founding members of the first Korean Buddhist Temple in Toronto and, most probably, in Canada. Most of the Asian ethnic Buddhist groups from Northeast and Southeast Asia were represented in big urban population centers in the U.S and Canada. This celebration was unprecedented in the long history of Buddhism because it had the added significance of introducing Korean Buddhism to the West. I continued, “It is true that we did not come to this country as Buddhist missionaries nor did we have social consciousness of our faith as Buddhists. Rather we came as refugees, immigrants or dependents. However, these factors do not change the reality of our presence here. The reality of our presence here is that we are the first generation of Buddhists from Korea. Like pioneers, being first generation comes with obligations. Born and raised in Buddhist Asia, we are indebted to the East. Warmly welcomed to this multi-racial, egalitarian country and cared for by the Canadian welfare system, we are indebted to the West. How do we repay our indebtedness to them? We are poor. We don’t have skills. We don’t have great knowledge. All we have is Buddhism. So you have to learn to give a little Buddhism to people. You have to share a little Buddhism with your


friends and associates and strangers. This little Buddhism could be a little kindness, a little smile, a little help, a little compassion and a little wisdom. Often a little kindness or a little help is all people need in order to make them feel happy.”

The main ceremony was followed by a big feast prepared by Korean Sangha members. All the bosalnims were wearing their traditional holiday dress consisting of chima (skirt) and jeogori (short coat). Their granddaughters put on saegdong (rainbow-striped garments for children). Everyone was relaxed and happy enjoying the feast, relishing the rare moment when they could be at home with each other in a country where everything was still strange and foreign to them.

After the feast we were looking forward to the evening lantern lighting ceremony. Some went out for a walk in the fresh air and to pass the time. Old bosalnims took advantage of the time to rest and nap. Others checked their lantern dedications and prayer slips that carried their good will and messages from their compassionate Buddhist hearts.

Around 7:30 pm, just before dusk, we began lighting candles in the lantern one by one. We followed the authentic style of the mountain monastery where there was no electricity. The only candles we could get for lantern lighting were long tapers. Chanting Seogamoni-bul (Shakyamuni Buddha), we watched the lanterns being lit and glowing in the darkness. But so many candles burning close to the ceiling generated a lot of heat, which made the candles bend or melt down, burning the paper lanterns. I was alarmed. I assigned a young boy to keep watch. To my relief he did a beautiful job. As soon as he located the burning lantern, he would carefully bring it down to the floor and throw his jacket over it to put it out. He did this several times successfully. All this while, the bosalnims devoted themselves to chanting undisturbed since they were used to seeing lanterns burning during the lantern lighting ceremony in Korea.

But in Korea, the lantern lighting service was an outdoor event under open sky. The bosalnims must have been transported back to their native country with their devotional hearts and failed to distinguish between outdoors and indoors. Such was the power of the celebration of the Son Lotus Society (now Buddhist Society for Compassionate Wisdom and Zen Buddhist Temple).

The adventure of Buddha’s Birthday continued the following year. A few days before Buddha’s Birthday, the bosalnims advised me that we should conduct a liberation of life service in keeping with the first precept of cherishing all life. So we went to Kensington Market and purchased pigeons, ducks and bullfrogs. We drove all the way to Kinmount to release them in a protected environment. After the morning ceremony on Buddha’s Birthday, one bosalnim suggested that we should go for a lantern parade after the lantern lighting ceremony just like they did in Korea. All the bosalnims agreed with her, so I followed them. Thirty of us hit the street each carrying lanterns lit with candles. We walked on the sidewalk in twos chanting along College Street to Young and north to Bloor. It took us two and a half hours to make it back to the temple. Everyone was happily exhausted and went home content.

These were the days when I had never heard of fire department violations, building codes, public assembly by-laws or parade permits. We were all blessed with ignorance of government laws and regulations.

*Masan Bosalnim was an invisible person. But she became visible when she performed prostrations. She performed prostrations slowly looking at the Buddha statue with each one. I wondered about it. One day I heard her say something briefly in a thin voice while prostrating. It was the first time that I noticed her saying something during prostrations. When I listened more carefully she was saying, “Jisim gwimyeongnae.” Then I realized right

away that it was “Jisim gwimyeongnae“ that made her visible during prostrations. “With my utmost heart, I devote my life to you” (Jisim gwimyeongnae) became the living embodiment of her body, mind and heart and it began to shine when she did prostrations.

Somehow Masan Bosalnim took it upon herself to do the leave-taking after Sunday service and lunch. It must have happened naturally since she was the last one to leave the temple. Most of the bosalnims’ grown children had been converted to Christianity, many after they emigrated from Korea. Many of them were not happy that their mother or parents went to a Buddhist temple on Sundays. They did not understand why their mothers had to go to a poor basement temple and follow old-fashioned and outdated teachings instead of attending a big church and receiving gospel teachings. So reluctantly they would drop their mothers off at the temple on their way to church. On their way home, they would come to pick up the bosalnims but would stay outside in the car and honk. Then the bosalnims would gather their bags and hasten out.

Masan Bosalnim would follow them outside to bid goodbye. At their children’s urging, the bosalnims hurried into the cars. Masan Bosalnim would do habjang and make a deep bow. When she raised herself, the cars would be gone. Then, facing College Street where the car was headed, she would make another deep bow.

Masan Bosalnim did this every Sunday with the same degree of utmost heart and would say softly, “Seongbul haseyo” (May you attain Buddhahood!). In her humble and pure mind, everything that came with the Buddhist world was wonderful and magnificent and deserved her veneration. In the Korean Buddhist world, Buddhists say, “Seongbul hasibsiyo” to greet people and to say goodbye. Therefore, it has somewhat become perfunctory, particularly when said lacking sincerity and real feeling. I advised her to say instead, “Jata ilsi seongbuldo” (Let’s attain


the Way of Buddha together).

When Masan Bosalnim learned to meditate, her simple and humble mind was transformed into no-mind. She sat like a rock, silent and timeless. After meditation, her life seemed to flow like a river of no mind.

Once when I came home from an outing, Bosalnim was at the temple meditating. Sensing that I arrived, she came out and told me, “When I came and entered the kitchen, I saw a mouse sitting on top of the rice sack with its eyes closed. It didn’t move at all. So I thought it must be dead and said to myself, ‘How nice to shed your body at the temple.’ With habjang (two hands palm to palm) I made a deep bow with a prayer. When I raised myself, the mouse had disappeared,” she said and laughed brightly like a child.

In August every year we observe Ullambana Day to remember our relatives

and friends who have gone before us or who have been missing from our lives. We seek peace and reconciliation and support their journey of life. The bosalnims dedicated memorial tablets and offerings for their deceased and missing and offered services. Masan Bosalnim would help with the preparations and attend, but I never saw her offering the service for her relatives or friends. One year during the preparations for Ullambana Day I asked,

“I’ve never seen you offering services for your kin and friends. Any secret reasons, Bosalnim?”

“I don’t have anyone to remember or offer services for,” she parried. “How about your late husband?” I pressed.

Upon that she jumped and spat out her words in typical Kyeongsangdo dialect and accent, “What? Service? I was so happy when he checked out that I felt like dancing all day long. Hurrah! It was a day

of liberation!”

She startled me. Masan Bosalnim passed away in February 2011 at the age of 91 (1920-2011). Her Buddhist name was Yeoraejang or Universal Buddhahood (Tathagata-garbha). She was my teacher and a formless bodhisattva.


“With my utmost heart, I devote my life to you” (Jisim gwimyeongnae)

became the living embodiment of her body,

mind and heart and it began to shine when she did prostrations.

The three jewels were shining brightly in Chicago at this year’s Buddha’s Birthday Celebration, in May of 2014. Over 30 sangha members volunteered their time and energy to make the weekend a complete success: making lanterns, folding napkins, chopping fruit, keeping an eye on the bathrooms, moving tables and chairs, performing improv, serving dinner, printing programs, washing dishes, baking cookies, greeting guests... And all with warm smiles and wonderful dharma energy. Kohye flew out from Los Angeles to share his warmth and wisdom.

On Saturday, Aarthi Tejuja, the Director of Social Engagement at Shambhala Chicago delivered our Social Forum on the topic Creating Safe Spaces: Buddhism and Youth Violence in Chicago; her inspiring and fascinating talk was followed by a lively discussion. We then enjoyed a sold-out Vegetarian Feast provided by Cecelia Hamilton of Heartfelt Catering, who donated her time and her quiet, kind, and focused energy to leading a team of dicers, mixers, stirrers and bakers over two whole days. Baked beans, collard greens, flatbread, black-eyed

pea salad, coleslaw, sweet potatoes, cornbread, fresh fruit, pecan bars... the meal was delicious. Dinner was followed by the annual Burning Karma Kabaret, where temple members and guests brought the house down with humor, talent, and harmonicas.

Sunday was more contemplative, and began with meditation and our Contemplation on Human Life. In the afternoon, about 25 people came to the temple for an hour-long introduction to meditation. We wrapped up the weekend with our beautiful lantern lighting ceremony, reading Buddhist scriptures and chanting together.

Heartfelt thanks to everyone who took part in the weekend, by helping or attending, and deep bows of thanks to Samu Sunim for his inspiration and guidance. If Buddha’s Birthday is, as Kohye reminded us, a time to renew our vows and recommit ourselves to the three jewels, it was an incredible success.

BUDDHA’S BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION by Noara Ellen McClure


In July, 2007, the Buddhist Society for Compassionate Wisdom celebrated the fortieth anniversary of my Dharma work in North America.1 After the celebration, I was supposed to go on a pilgrimage to Buddhist India. But instead I decided to go to New York City to return to the place where I started the Seon-Zen Lotus Society and to renew my vows. 2

In late November, Sanha and I loaded the Society’s old van with a Buddha statue and with meditation mats and cushions, and we drove to Manhattan. Kohye (Jeff Boland) had spent several weekends looking and had found a three-bedroom apartment with a large living room for group meditation. That is how it happened that our first temple in 21st-century Manhattan was a new condo on the fourth floor in Chinatown, on the corner of Hester and Mott.

Manhattan in 1967Although I had visited New York City three or four times since 1967—notably, on June 3, 1995, I was invited to the second annual “Change Your Mind Day,” organized by Tricycle-The Buddhist Review and held in Central Park-- my memory of the year 1967 has remained most vivid. After an unsuccessful visit to the First Zen Institute of America, I stayed at the Zen Studies Society of West End Avenue for my first few days in Manhattan. I left following my first interview (dokusan) with Hakuun Yasutani Roshi (1885-1973). Charles Carpenter, then a resident of Zen Studies Society and attendant to Yasutani Roshi, offered me his room at 549 West 113 Street. The room was so small that his single bed took up half of it.

Chuck was a graduate student at Columbia University.3 In the evenings he would stop

by to catch up with his studies. Late one night I heard someone shouting “Chuck.” Chuck jumped up and ran down the stairs like a bullet. The next thing I knew, Chuck was carrying a lady up to her apartment. She was plastered. This ritual repeated itself almost every night. The lady was Chuck’s next-door neighbor on the third floor. She worked as a bartender. After work, she would take a cab to the apartment building and shout “Chuck.” Her boyfriend was a sailor. He would visit her on weekends. They would fight, then get into shouting matches.

I moved to a flat on the 5th floor at 454 West 45th Street and 10th Avenue. The celebration of New Year’s Eve impressed and bewildered me. By evening, the stairways were busy with people going up and down. They all seemed happy-- laughing and talking loudly. As the night went on, the merriment increased, fueled by alcohol and parties. Suddenly there was a knock on my door. Three young people were standing in front of me. I recognized two of them, who lived on higher floors. They were all curious about me, perhaps fascinated by the “inscrutable East.” When I invited them in, they sat down looking at me vacantly. They were all pleasantly drunk and probably high. Otherwise, they were very open, friendly and sharing. They invited me to join them for the celebration of the New Year. I felt obliged. I mingled with them and took a drink with cheers. I did appreciate their inclusiveness but I was unable to overcome the feeling of being an outsider looking in. I stayed for half an hour and left.

Back in my apartment, unable to sleep due to the joyful clamor, I went outside. Parties and celebrations were going on everywhere. In the open space of the storefront across the street, I saw young

people of both sexes enjoying completely free movement of all four limbs under the strobe light, keeping time with ear-splitting music. It was strange and feverish. I asked people passing by what was going on. They just grinned and said, “Rock’n’Roll,” “Rock and Roll,” “Enjoy it, man!” At that time, I did not know that I had arrived in a country where counterculture was in the making. I did not know how important music was for the Baby Boom generation, as a medium of expression of freedom and chaos in post-war American pop culture.

I woke up early on New Year’s Day. Now it was dead quiet. What a contrast with the night before! People must have been completely spent. I went outside to greet the first rays of the morning sun. There was not a soul in sight. I crossed the street to see what had happened to the dancers. Dancers and waitresses were fast asleep on the floor in great disarray. They must have danced and worked all night and fallen, exhausted. The scene eerily reminded me of the night before the departure of Prince Siddhartha. Suddenly, someone from the building showed up and waved me away.

Now, forty years later, I was back in Manhattan. Kohye and I were staying at the condo in Chinatown. Kohye and I went to the shopping area in Soho and positioned ourselves at opposite sides of the busy intersection. It was a bitterly cold night. If you stood still your body would freeze, so you had to keep moving. Our challenge was to steal the attention of holiday shoppers with non-commercial Buddhist messages. If they took our handout and read or noticed the word “Buddha” or “meditation,” I considered it a success. Dharma seeds so planted in their psyche would sprout, given time and care. Some would take the handout inattentively, take a look, and put it in the trash bin in the

BUDDHAS, SENTIENT BEINGS, AND BODDHISATTVAS IN MANHATTAN by Samu Sunim, May 2014


corner. I would recycle it fast and reuse it for another shopper. Those who took the handout inadvertently would one day enter Nirvana by mistake by virtue of their having done so.

Eastern States Buddhist Temple in ChinatownOn January 1, 2008, it was sunny and bright. Since the Chinese celebrate their own New Year according to the lunar calendar we were curious to see how they would observe the Gregorian New Year.

The streets and alleyways, usually crowded with hustle and bustle, were completely abandoned. It was a refreshing change from holiday-making elsewhere in the city! Kohye and I followed Mott Street enjoying the first sunlight of the year. The first people we saw were Buddhist women at the temple officially known as the Eastern States Buddhist Temple. It was a glass-windowed storefront temple founded by “gift shop owner and devout Buddhist Mrs. James Ying” (Jin Yu-tang).4 I remembered visiting this temple in the summer of 1967 and finding the crass secular venture offensive.

We went in. The three women looked surprised to see us. One of them, perhaps the owner, said aloud, “No monk, no monk! Come later.” We understood that there was no resident monk and they were not open. A gift shop-cum-museum with a fortune-telling service or Joss-house were in front and the shrine was behind. Since the temple was a tour bus destination, they were getting ready for the holiday crowd.

The history of Chinatown Buddhism in America goes back to the Kong Chow temple of San Francisco, built in 1853 by the Kong Chow Association to “promote and protect the welfare of immigrants coming from certain parts of Kwangtung province.”5 Throughout the latter half of the 19th and the early half of the 20th century, temples practicing folk or “pagan” religion sprung up and flourished in Chinatowns across America. The main deity on their altar was usually Guan Gong (Kuan Kung), the hero of the Romance of the Three Kingdoms. Originally revered as a god of war, Guan Gong was transformed by the poorly educated and peaceful peasant followers into a non-military physician for the cure of disease and suffering, and the patron saint for trade and professions.

Some of the temples were built by entrepreneurs. Now the primary role of Guan Gong changed again to serve as a god of wealth or Mammon to fit capitalist society; hence so many shrines dedicated to Guan Gong in Chinese restaurants. In the popular and syncretistic pantheon of Chinatown temples there have been Buddhist representations as well, most frequently Guan Yin (Kuan Yin), goddess of mercy. But her influence in the pantheon was minor and insignificant.

Given this backdrop, the Eastern States Buddhist Temple, founded in 1963 by Mrs. Ying would have been able to claim to be the first New York City Chinese Buddhist temple on the strength of the array of Buddha statues in front, the Buddhist altar in the back, and a monk

in residence upstairs. In addition, Jin Yu-tang also established a traditional Chinese Mahayana temple in the Catskills, complete with shrine halls for Guan Yin (Avalokisvara, Gwanseum-bosal) and Bodhisattva Dizang (Ksitigarbha, Jijang-bosal). The Mahayana Temple served as a retreat center for Chinese Buddhists affiliated with the Eastern States Temple and also for “family outings and picnics.”

Aside from its role as a tourist temple in Chinatown and gathering place of Chinese women for spiritual needs, perhaps the most important role of the Eastern States Buddhist Temple in early days of Manhattan Chinatown Buddhist history was to provide accommodation and information for traveling monks. The storefront temple served as a placement center for monks arriving from Taiwan, mainland China, Hong Kong, Singapore and the Chinese communities of Southeast Asia, thereby contributing to the creation of new temples and the development of Buddhism in Chinatown and beyond.

Jade Buddha Temple in HoustonJade Buddha Temple (organization name: Texas Buddhist Association) was one of the new temples whose founder had passed through the Eastern States Buddhist Temple. In 1996 and 1997, I was invited by them to conduct a retreat there. As the name indicates, the temple was magnificent, with a lovely lotus pond. It was supported by a large congregation of Taiwanese immigrants.

The abbot Ven. Jan Hai was a humble monk of few words. Upon my inquiry, he related to me the following story: He was originally from mainland China. After the Communist takeover of the mainland in 1949, he fled to Taiwan. He then had an opportunity to study in a Buddhist college in Japan. When he finished his graduate studies and returned to Taiwan, he realized that there were simply too many mainland monks there. He thought that he would be more useful somewhere else, such as North America. The problem was that he did not speak English. When he shared this



concern with one of the fellow monks, the monk’s reaction was swift. “No problem!” he exclaimed. “1. Pick one of the great cities in America. 2. Get a visa and plane ticket. 3. When you arrive in the city holler “taxi” and tell the driver ‘ChinTong’ (Chinatown). That’s all you have to do. When you arrive in ChinTong, find your way just like you do here in Taipei.”

Greatly encouraged, he followed the monk’s instructions faithfully. When he finally arrived in ChinTong of New York City he had no trouble finding the Eastern States Buddhist Temple. He was offered a room upstairs. He was grateful for the temporary accommodation. But before too long, he felt that he was in the wrong place. He could not stomach the ‘secular Buddhism’ going on downstairs, nor could he agree with the practice of Chinatown Buddhism. After two weeks at the tourist temple he decided to leave and go to Boston.

Not that he knew anyone in Boston. He had heard that Boston had great universities and colleges and that the city was abundant with academics, intellectuals, free thinkers, atheists and agnostics - with or without redeeming features. He surmised that among them would be bright and talented Chinese students. “They are the future of modern China,” he thought. “I will find them and offer my services cooking, cleaning and doing laundry, if they allow me to have small sleeping quarters. If they wish, I will teach Dharma from time to time.”

With this in mind, he went to the bus station. As each bus prepared to leave, its conductor called out its destination. Hewas listening carefully but the conductors spoke quickly. When he heard “Boston,” he ran and got on the bus. He had been told at the storefront temple that it would take no more than three hours to get to Boston. But the bus kept going for hours and hours. When it finally stopped more than ten hours later, it was in Houston, not Boston.

Having arrived in Houston, the monk decided that he could probably do his work there just as well as in Boston. Since he didn’t know anybody in either place, one was as good as the other. So he started scouting around the city to locate overseas Chinese students. He succeeded and made friends with the students he found. The students decided to take him in on a rotating basis. He would cook a meal for one student, clean his room, stay for the night. Then he would move on to another student the following day.

Eventually, word of the monk’s arrival spread to the large Chinese community. When the Buddhist women’s group heard the news, they were overjoyed. They had already made plans to establish a temple, hoping that a monk would appear. One day, several Buddhist women came to pay a visit to the monk and to escort him out of the student ghetto. He was happy staying with students but found it difficult to decline the genuine request of Buddhist devotees. The women’s group had already rented a house for him. After that things moved fast.

First they raised funds to buy a house for temple services and Dharma activities. Then one of the ladies from Hong Kong made contact with the president of the powerful Hong Kong Buddhist Association. Soon the venerable monk and president flew in to take a look at the situation. In the meantime, the local Chinese community raised enough money to purchase an acre of land. Then Hong Kong money started flowing in to build a large temple. After a few years of construction, the Jade Buddha Temple made its debut and opened to the public! The abbot said, “Everything was so easy with money!” He was still a quiet and humble monk, a man of no ambition.

Sunim’s Homeless Journey to Buddha TempleAfter the abbot finished his story, I shared a little bit of mine. I was left an orphan after the Korean War (1950-53). After three days of no food removed any trace of shame from me, I became a beggar living on the

streets. The ravages of the war touched everybody, regardless of class, and threw people out on the streets to survive.

There was a Korean saying that monks and beggars do not visit their home town. So all of us beggars ended up in the cities, where being homeless is not a stigma. But there were simply too many beggars, and cutthroat competition ensued from their struggle for survival. Even to get leftovers you had to be aggressive or pester and never give up. Or else you had to display some terrible disability or entreat with such a sorrowful voice that you could awaken the compassionate heart of a total stranger. I did not have a disability, nor did I have any of those other gifts.

In despair, I saw a secondhand bookstore. It occurred to me that it would be wonderful to work in the bookstore. I would be able to gain knowledge and some wisdom from the books. I approached the owner and asked carefully if he needed a helper. He looked me up and down and then said, “No.” Then I realized that there were many bookstores almost next door to each other for several blocks. I tried them all, one by one. No one offered me work. Admittedly, I was too young to be looking for work. Still, it was hard and hurtful for no one to extend a caring hand to the teenage child.

I was physically and emotionally exhausted and near collapse when I saw a very large house with a tile roof at the end of a narrow alleyway. I was surprised to see such a traditional structure in downtown Seoul. It reminded me of my home town, and touched my heart.

I made it to the gate house. I sat down to rest. Gathering myself together, I spoke to the gatekeeper: “I’ll do anything you ask me to do, diligently and with a true and sincere heart, if you only allow me to stay here.”

“Do you know what this place is?” asked the keeper.

“No, I don’t.”


“This is a Buddhist Temple. You cannot stay here, unless you wish to become a monk,” said the keeper.

“I would love to become a monk,” I said, grasping at the last straw.

With a big grin on his face the keeper said, “If you wish to become a monk, it’s better to become a great monk. You have to go to the mountain monastery to become a great monk.”

With that, I finished telling my story to the abbot of the Jade Buddha Temple. “This,” I said, “was how I became a monk for the wrong reason.”

The abbot and I had a good laugh. I still marvel at how I was able to convert myself

from a street beggar to a mendicant, and from street homeless into “homeless monk.”

Feminine Character Of BuddhismBack on January 1, 2008, Kohye and I left the Eastern States Buddhist Temple and continued our stroll in Chinatown. Now there were more people out in the streets. Where Mott Street ended, we crossed Confucian Plaza and turned toward East Broadway. Then, unusual busy human traffic in front of a nondescript building attracted our attention. People - mostly women - were going in and coming out. This was the Grace Gratitude Buddhist Temple, which followed Pure Land Buddhist practice. We entered and joined the practice group chanting “Namo Amitafo” (Amitabha Buddha) while

circumambulating the Buddha hall. Two monks were leading the circumambulation, regulating the speed and singsong voice of the chanting. We learned later about their retreat practice. First they recite Amito-jing (Amitabha-sutra, a shorter version of Sukhavativyuha-sutra) and then stand up and circumambulate chanting Namo Amitafo. They continue this for two or three hours at a time. After that they break for an hour and repeat. This they do for fourteen hours a day for three or five days.

During the chanting (nianfo) retreat people are allowed to join at any time but can leave only during the break. This kind of retreat was business-people friendly and convenient for housekeepers. I was told that the leading monk came from Taiwan. He travels to New York City several times a year to conduct the Pure Land retreat. The majority of people attending were women of all ages. It seemed that many of them were leading busy lives in fast-moving society, yet remained dedicated to their Buddhist practice.

In the past, I’ve heard that men in the East Asian Confucian society sometimes say, “Buddhism is a women’s religion.” Usually they say this in a disparaging way. They mean that women are attracted to Buddhism because they are brainless, superstitious, overly emotional, full of self-pity, timid and prone to excessive attachment. Without joining in this backwards judgment of women, I believe that Buddhism does have feminine characteristics such as gentleness, loving kindness, prudence, sympathy, sensitivity, patience, and a love for peace. The Korean Buddhist scholar, Dr. Rhi Ki-Young (1922-96), once remarked, “Buddhism is a motherlike religion.” Great compassion and boundless lovingkindness are markings of the mother’s heart. They are and always will be the identifying marks of Buddhism.

See Footnotes on Page 19. To Be Continued.



Hanging NYC Temple Sign . Drawing by Toan Josemaria Castelao.

1I arrived in San Francisco from Tokyo on August 2, 1967. After two nights in San Francisco for a connecting flight, I arrived in New York City on August 4. On January 17, 1968, I departed New York City for Montreal, Canada.

2Here are the three Boddhisattva vows I made in the summer of 1967 (see Spring Wind Newsletter vol.1, no.1 fall 2009: p. 4a): Provided that I be allowed to stay in this country legally,

A. I would do my utmost to help Buddhist monks and teachers from Asia settle in America and spread the teachings of the Buddha.

I helped a Bangladeshi monk, Bhikkhu Sona Kanti Barua, and a Chinese monk settle in Canada, in addition to some Koreans.

B. I would help promote inter-Buddhist dialogue among different groups representing Asian traditions, both national and sectarian, so that they could understand each other better and share their experiences for their common goals in the West.

The Zen Lotus Society (now the Buddhist Society for Compassionate Wisdom) began to publish a magazine, Spring Wind: Buddhist Cultural Forum, in order to promote inter-Buddhist exchange and understanding. In July of 1986 the Society organized a historic weeklong conference on Zen Buddhism in North America held at the Ann Arbor Zen Buddhist Temple in Michigan. The Society published a booklet, Zen Buddhism in North America- A History and Directory, in conjunction with the Conference and distributed free. Since then an Association of second

generation American Zen teachers have been holding an annual conference, taking turns.

In July of 1987, the Zen Lotus Society undertook an ambitious but much-anticipated Conference on World Buddhism in North America which attracted a veritable who’s who of American Buddhism of the time. The Conference produced a historical Statement of Consensus consisting in eleven articles that addressed common purpose, social role, and future vision. The society produced a video documentary, ‘World Buddhism in North America’ to convey “the spirit of the 8-day conference and the mood of North American Buddhism taking shape in the 80’s.” Since I spent most of my formative years as a Buddhist teacher in Toronto, Canada, and the Toronto Zen Buddhist Temple served as the home temple for the Zen Lotus Society/Buddhist Society for Compassionate Wisdom (BSCW), I felt obligated to do something helpful and inspiring for the Buddhist movement in Canada. However, I couldn’t think of anything better than holding a conference to bring together teachers representing different traditions, to honour them and share our experiences of practicing Buddhism in Canada. As usual, I enlisted the enthusiasm and unfailing help of my staff, Sujata (Linda Klevnick), Editor of Spring Wind: Buddhist Cultural Forum and General Secretary of the Zen Lotus Society, Toan (Jose Castelao Camara), Society priest and artist, Anicca (Bengt Skoggard), Dharma teacher and public relations officer, to name a few.

Although we had experience organizing conferences in the U.S., Canada was a different country. Buddhist groups were very much ethnic and language barriers presented problems. So while we relied on

the strength of Spring Wind contacts and the Dharma friendships I had built, we decided to be as inclusive as possible and appeal to all for the common purpose and solidarity of the Buddhist sangha.

I remembered my old Dharma friends Karma Thinley, Rev. Sing Hung and Rev. Shing Cheung. In spring of 1976 I chanced upon Karma Thinley near the public library on College Street. We surprised each other. It was a great joy to see another monk on no Buddhist monk’s land! We visited Fifth Kingdom Bookshop on Harbord Street run by a student of Ananda Bodhi (Leslie George Dawson) and carrying “Toronto’s most comprehensive selection of books on world religion and mythology, magic, alchemy and tarot.” Fifth Kingdom published Dharma Notes, containing substantial Buddhist contents, since 1970. Ananda Bodhi, later known as Namgyal Rinpoche, was the first Canadian Buddhist monk ordained at Bodh Gaya under Burmese Sayadaw U Thila Wunta. When he returned to his native land, Canada, he opened Dharma center, a kind of New Age center, on Palmerston with the help of his British disciples. He turned out to be a very versatile and eclectic teacher.

One day, we heard that there were two Chinese monks from Hong Kong living In North York, Toronto. So we visited Nam Shan (Southhill) Temple and met two senior monks. Rev. Sing Hung and Rev. Shing Cheung were Dharma brothers under Master Tan Xu (1875-1963). They came to Canada at the invitation of Ananda Bodhi. Nam Shan Temple was a small residential house with a Buddha hall on the ground floor and a meditation room in the basement. We arrived unannounced but they were delighted to receive us. After greetings we sat on

FOOTNOTES TO Buddhas, Sentient Beings, and Boddhisattvas in Manhattan


a raised platform. After meditation we were treated to a delicious Chinese meal. Karma Thinley and I visited Nam Shan two more times. The two Chinese monks were always cordial and treated us as Dharma brothers.

In those days we were all poor and humble monks blessed with simplicity. I was living in the basement apartment on Markham Street and Karma Thinley had his own house temple, Kampo Gangra, somewhere in the beaches. He was the first resident Tibetan monk in Toronto, but reclusive. In early 80s I had the good fortune to meet Shodo Tsunoda Sensei (1913-?), bishop of the Buddhist Churches of Canada (Jodo Shinshu). I was touched by his gentle personality. The business suit he wore and his words of “practicing secular religion” somehow belied the humanity of his humility and openness. Humility and kshanti-paramita are underestimated virtues. Zen teachers and students should be on guard and learn from humility and kshanti-paramita to rid themselves of their ‘Zen stink.’

I tried to reach Karma Thinley to involve him in the Conference but ended up talking to his attendant, a Western nun. I explained to her in some detail why I wanted to speak to him. She called back to inform me that Karma Thinley stayed away from any such meetings. I recalled how I failed to invite him to the Interfaith Service of the celebration of His Holiness the Dalai Lama receiving Nobel Peace Prize the previous year. His reaction completely surprised me, that “such celebrations would only make the Chinese angry and Tibetan people suffer more.”

Next, I visited Cham Shan Temple in Thornhill just outside the Toronto city limits to see Rev. Sing Hung (1924-?) and Rev. Shing Cheung (1920-?). Not long after they moved to the new temple I visited Cham Shan. They had converted a garage into a temporary temple. They placed a telephone set on the altar while doing service so that they would not miss

any calls. My first reaction was alienation. Then my admiration for their bold attempt for grafting Buddhism onto the business world prevailed over my stereotype. That was more than ten years ago. Now I see that a sea of change has taken hold on their three-acre land. The garage temple has been transformed into a traditional palace-style public monastery with shrine halls, a garden and many statues. The temple served as a source of pride and spiritual refuge for the growing Chinese immigrant community. Cham Shan has been so successful and prosperous that five branch temples eventually spawned from it: two in Toronto and three in the province. Cham Shan Temple (The Buddhist Association of Canada) has become a Buddhist kingdom in the province of Ontario!

I greeted Rev. Sing Hung and Rev. Shing Cheung and congratulated them for their astounding achievements. Then I related to them what I was planning to do for Buddhism in Canada and extended my invitation for them to serve as co-chairpersons for the Conference on Buddhism in Canada. Rev. Sing Hung looked at Rev. Shing Cheung for his response. With no response forthcoming from Rev. Shing Cheung, Rev. Sing Hung said, “No English, Chinese.” First I understood it to mean that they don’t speak English, only Chinese. So I explained that they were not the only Asian monks who don’t speak English. Asian monks who don’t speak English could give a talk in their mother tongue and their talks would be interpreted. But Rev. Sing Hung kept saying, “No, no, just Chinese.” I was confused. It took a while for me to figure out that what he wanted was “Just Chinese,” no English. Therefore, I had to point out that we live in Canada, not in China or a Chinese-speaking country. Canada is a bilingual country. This was borne out by my experience with Vision TV, a multi-faith channel in Ontario. Vision TV contacted me several times to sell air time to Buddhist groups. Finally I had to tell them that the Buddhist groups that could afford to buy air time would be Cham Shan Temple and the Toronto Buddhist Church. Then they kept asking

me to contact the two Buddhist groups on their behalf. I contacted Cham Shan Temple and tried to persuade Rev. Sing Hung, saying this would be a good opportunity to introduce Cham Shan Temple to the English-speaking world and to publicize his accomplishments. But the same attitude prevailed. It had to be in Chinese and not in English.

I had never realized that Buddhism embedded in ethnocentrism was so pernicious. Centuries of isolation from one another have reduced Asian Buddhism to national Buddhisms or a state-sponsored religion serving the interests of the ethnic nation. Buddhists all over the world should not forget that they are the descendants of Gautama Buddha who left his fatherland in search for emancipation and allowed his homeland to be destroyed for the spread of Dharma. The Buddhist loyalty to ethnic tradition and misguided attachment to national Buddhist identities are the major obstacles to the globalization of Buddhism today. Asian Buddhists must overcome these obstacles in order to restore Buddhism to where it belongs, for peace of the world and happiness of all beings.

We designed a bilingual conference poster with announcements in nine Asian languages and seven teachers as co-chairpersons. I made two trips to Montreal to personally invite Ven. Thich Thien Ngi of Hoa Nghiem Temple, Ven. Hok Savann of Pagode Khmer and Ven. Geshe Khenrab. I made several telephone calls to the Vancouver Buddhist Church in order to invite Bishop Toshio Murakami of the Buddhist Churches of Canada. The conference on Buddhism in Canada took place from July 8 through 14, 1990.*

*There is mention of the Toronto Buddhist Church as a co-sponsor in Wild Geese: Buddhism in Canada (McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2010), p. 385. The Toronto Buddhist Church was neither co-sponsor of the Conference nor did it take part in the Conference.**


**see Janet McLellan “Conference on Buddhism in Canada: Towards a Partnership in the Making of Buddhism in the West,” Buddhism at the Crossroads (Fall, 1990), pp. 30-31.

C. I would learn from the social service experiences of Christian traditions and work with their leaders for interreligious exchange and cooperation on social justice and world peace.

In the 1980s I became involved in the Canadian interfaith activities of the World Conference on Religion for Peace (WCRP) and then the Buddhist-Christian Dialogue and meetings. On November 25, 1989, the Toronto Zen Buddhist Temple invited Rinchen Dharlo, the official representative of His Holiness the Dalai Lama in America, and organized “A Day of Celebration” in honour of H.H. Dalai Lama receiving the Nobel Peace Prize for his non- violent struggle for the independence of Tibet under Chinese occupation. The one-day celebration included a 9 am meditation, an Inter-religious Service from 10 am to noon, a Forum on non-violent Social Action at 2 pm, and at 7 pm a Literary&Musical Celebration. The Celebration was a great success. All participants signed their names on two posters of the event featuring a photo of H.H. Dalai Lama to show our solidarity with the Tibetan struggle. We gave one poster to Rinchen Dharlo to present it to H.H. Dalai Lama and the Toronto temple kept one for its records. However, I cannot help but feel sad at the way that the gamesmanship of international politics has dimmed hope for Tibetan independence. I cringe at the genocidelike cultural assimilation and religious persecution that have been going on in Tibetan areas of China. The day after the celebration, I was visited by a Chinese gentleman. I don’t remember having seen him in the audience of the Celebration, but he knew that I was the organizer. It seemed that he also knew

that I was sympathetic to the student democracy movement in China and had condemned the military crackdown and ensuing massacre in Tianmen Square on June 4, 1989. He was suspicious that I might be in contact with the protesting student leader(s) in exile. He kept asking me over and over again, “What was your purpose of organizing the Celebration for Dalai Lama?” Repeatedly, he reminded me that Canada was the first Western country to recognize that Tibet had always been part of mainland China and Dalai Lama was worse than a separatist. Again and again he mentioned that ordinary Tibetans were slaves under his feudal regime. Their life had vastly improved under Communist rule and they are free and happy now. This went on and on for more than an hour. At first I tried to argue with him, but soon I realized that it was futile. At that moment it occurred to me that he might be an overseas Chinese government agent. I endured his harassment and remained silent. He asked if I had visited China. When he learned that I had not, he said he could arrange a free trip to China for me to tour temples and mountains sacred to Buddhism if I promised to stop social activities harmful to the People’s Republic of China. I thanked him and asked him to leave the temple grounds.In August 1993, at A Parliament of the World’s Religions in Chicago, and on behalf of the participating Buddhist leaders, I issued a Threefold Buddhist Statement, “To the Council For A Parliament of the World’s Religions” against indiscriminate usage of the word God applied to all world religions, and “Buddhism is not a religion of God.”

I was part of the Monastic Interreligious Dialogue (MID) or Gethsemani Encounter Group since 1996 for a while. To the second (B) and third (C) vows I feel I have made my contributions. To the first (A) vow I have made a small and limited contribution largely due to cultural difficulties and legal liability.

The Three New Vows for which I am here in New York City are:

1. To establish this-worldly Buddhism with Bodhisattva morality and selfless service for sentient beings in need.

2. To make Zen practice inclusive of all forms of Buddhist cultivation. Make Zen practice pivotal in one’s life and viable, and widely available to people across all walks of life.

3. To make Buddhism a family-friendly religion with rituals, ceremonials and festivities for social life, and to build Buddhist sanghas (communities) based on Right Livelihood Guidelines.

3In 1970, Chuck Carpenter left for Japan to train under Nakagawa Soen Roshi (1907-1984) at Ryutakuji, Soen Roshi’s home temple. In 1972 he was ordained as a monk with the Dharma name Daiko and returned to the New York Zendo (Zen Studies Society). He now lives in his hometown, Coon Rapids, Iowa, keeping honeybees for honey and beeswax candles and tending an orchard for horticultural products, in keeping with right livelihood. See Journal of The Zen Studies Society, Issue 10 (Fall, 1989), p. 3 and Charles Carpenter, “The Challenges of Right Livelihood,” Spring Wind: Buddhist Cultural Forum (Spring, 2004), pp. 18-19.

4Wilson, Jeff. 2000. The Buddhist Guide of New York. St. Martin’s Griffin, New York, NY: pp. 88-89 and 158.

5Layman, Emma McCloy. 1976. Buddhism in America. Nelson-Hall, Chicago: pp. 150 and 161.


MEXICO CITY PRECEPT-TAKING CEREMONYby Toan Josemaria Castelao

The Precept-Taking Ceremony took place the 12th of January, at noon, here, at our Zen Buddhist Temple. That day Sunim conducted the Sunday Service which, like that of all of our sister temples, goes from 9:30 to 11. People started arriving at 9, and the temple eventually became completely full, with close to 100 people attending. This time, Sunim’s visit had been programmed for late December, with the sole and much-needed purpose of resting. Yet a woman who had been coming to Sunday Service for the last year and a half or so had been asking me when we would have Precepts, so we took advantage of Sunim’s very brief visit to organize the event. Sunim arrived on January 1, and the first thing we did upon arriving was going from the airport directly to see a house that had some potential for becoming a temple. For the last two and a half years, we’ve been looking for a larger temple. Sunim and I went for a holiday in Cancún, and returned on the

11th. So, for many people, that Sunday, January 12th was the only possible day to meet him.

For the Precept-Taking Ceremony, we placed chairs in front of our altar and prepared a platform for Sunim to sit. It was a beautiful ceremony, and, as usual, seasoned with humorous moments when Sunim gives each one her or his Buddhist name. 24 people took precepts, “Da” being the root name—family name — for all the participants. “Da” means predominantly “many”... but—accordingly—, it has many meanings... Two people renewed precepts.

After the ceremony, Sunim and the dharma students went for lunch at a Korean restaurant nearby. To learn more about the new Mexico City Temple, see the article on page 24.

Ana Leonor Santos del ÁngelArturo Vilchis Torrejón

Beatriz Lucía Cano SánchezIsla Carolina Kelow Fichman Grzybowska

David Conrad Duhne BackhaussDiana Abogado Valencia

Jill Rubí Guzmán AriasJorge Rosales Coria

José Isabel Ferreira NovellaRodrigo Alberto Díaz Rico

Vanesa Alemán Enriquez Anabel Rodríguez Carmona

DAWONDASIDARANIDARIDARADAJEONGDASAENGDABODASODADADADARIMDAJI

Antoni Camprubí CanoCelia Moreschi López

Fabiola Wong GuitiérrezJuan Ramón Mozqueda Amezquita

Victor Miguel López GuzmánPaulina Soria Limas

Pilar CalveiroMario Alberto Becerra NuñezGustavo Arturo Montiel Alejo

Leonardo BaltierraAlejandra Torres

DAMANDAJANGDAJIMDAJUNGDANANDAHAENGDAMUNDASUDAHAMDAGONGDARUM

Precept takers in the Mexico City Temple in January 2014


Annie LaugavitzBrooke Alayne Nemchak

Corbett Jacob YostHillery Danielle Beavers

Humphrey Ar’Staris Blackemore, Jr.Jennifer Caitlin Dibbern

Joanna Elizabeth FarnumJustin Reeves Adams

Kelli Marie Conlin Laurie Swank

Lea Martta UrpaLindsey Blake DeLott

Mathew RouleauSarah Helen Juster

Trent Farrel Lytle

Dorothy Ann ValinEric Phillip Ohlson

Jessica Katherine Marasa Kara Forcey

Marjorie Henrietta ThomasMatthew Forcey

Mary Elaine SebastianiTalia Pedraza Avila

HAHWAHASUNHAGYEHAHAHARYUHASUKHASEONGHANULHAYEONHAONHAYEUBHAJIHAYAHARUHAU

HAUNHAHAEHAYEOHAWIHANAHACHUNG

HAGOKHAJA

2014 PRECEPT-TAKING AND DHARMA NAMES

New Precepts RenewalAnn Arbor

Emily Nichole HowardGloria Lu Cox

Deborah Tammy NakashimaEllen McClure

George Costakis

OMYOMAUM

SANDAMNOARA

CH’ANAM

New York

Chicago


The New York City Temple is nearing the end of its long and fitful journey towards complete completion. The last two years have been an adventure in construction, utilities, and permits. Last year saw a significant setback due to difficulties with the first sprinkler company hired. Kohye Jeff Boland and Sunim struggled to get things back on track and hired Big Apple Sprinklers in December 2013.

After two floods, several fire alarms, and two inspection failures, Big Apple Sprinklers were able to get the sign-off for the installation of the water main and the new sprinkler system. It was supposed

to be an accelerated pace, but took more than five months, a length of time which our architect called “atypical.” Finally, with the gas authorization, our expediter Orlando was able to obtain a Temporary Certificate of Occupancy from the New York City Building Department in July 2014, allowing Samu Sunim to hold Sunday morning public services.

We hope to have a Permanent Certificate of Occupancy, along with hot water, cooking gas, and heat once Con Edison has completed its final inspection of the boiler, which should happen soon. In the meantime, at least ten people have

been attending the temple for Sunday morning services. Koseya Blair Thomas and Nodangdang Lourdes Ortega recently visited to interview Sunim for the documentary that they are filming, and Hagok Mel Sebastiani has been using dharma energy to help out as needed.

The entire process, sometimes frustrating, sometimes glacial in its progress, has been an opportunity for practice. In the words of Samu Sunim: “I never realized there were so many different buddhas and different buddhalands in the world!”

“COVERING YOUR HEAD WITH GOLDEN EXCRETA”: GOING TO THE MARKETPLACE TO BE AMONG WORLDLY BUDDHASby Noara Ellen McClure

About 4 years ago, I remember Sunim arriving at the Mexico temple, inspecting it attentively, and then commenting, “The temple looks well kept, and very nice! That means it is time to move.”

We had moved to that temple in November 2003.

The truth is that our temple, while serving us extremely well, had become too small. It was often at full capacity for Sunday Service, and when Sunim came on January 12, 100 people came. With just 50 people, it felt crowded, and people had been very patient, sitting close together week after week.

So, our search began about three years ago. After the purchase of the New York City temple, Sunim offered generous support for Mexico to move to a bigger

temple, saying “The Mexico temple is the smallest of all our temples, and I want us to find a definitive and substantial location.”

We began our search in several areas. Our current temple was in a very central area, Colonia Roma, where we’ve been located since the early 1990s. It’s quite convenient, with a nearby subway station, and people come from all over Mexico City. It’s also full of options for people wanting to practice different spiritual paths: meditation, tai chi, yoga, and many more. But the main disadvantage is that the ground is not very solid, and it’s rather humid. Since Mexico City is prone to earthquakes, there’s a good chance that a building in this area would eventually suffer damage.

For this reason, we decided to move towards the south, where the ground is more solid. We thought that the Coyoacán

neighborhood would be ideal, since it’s like a second downtown in Mexico City. It is a very cultural area, with many visitors, especially on weekends. With its strong colonial flavor, its old and well-preserved houses, it is colorful, peaceful, and full of trees: a very attractive area. And as in the Condesa and Rome neighborhoods, different spiritual groups make an effort to have a place here.

Around two years ago, in April, Sunim came to look at 5 options we had identified in Coyoacán. We made an offer on best property we saw, nicely sized and in an excellent location right in front of a huge park. It was a bit ugly, but suited our purposes and had a very nice garden. Unfortunately, our offer was rejected, and the property was sold to a group of lawyers.

MEXICO CITY TEMPLE by Toan Josemaria Castelao




I visited many, many places. Often I saw wonderful properties, but given our unique needs, it was not an easy process. Sunim came back last January. Through my cousin, who works in real estate, albeit in the north of the city, I learned about a beautiful house that her friend was selling in Coyoacán. It was a very old, big property in excellent condition. Sunim arrived on Wednesday, January 1, at around noon. I had scheduled a visit to the property for January 13, after our return from a much-needed vacation. But right in the airport, Sunim said “let’s go see that beautiful house in Coyoacán!” We put the luggage in the car and went right over, and fortunately, the owner allowed us to see it. Carved in wood over the front door was a sign reading “The House of Magnolias.” In the end, Sunim thought it wasn’t the right place, as its future resale value was doubtful, and we might run into problems if we wanted to modify something, since such properties are protected for their historical and cultural value.

Sunim and I left for rainy Cancún the next day. The weather was terrible the whole time, relentless wind and rain, except for a couple of hours on a few days.

Once we returned, he led the Sunday Service, and afterwards the Precept-Taking Ceremony for the Da family. On the next day, we spent the day visiting about 9 or 10 houses. 3 were particularly interesting, but one of them, located at Callejón del Ojito, in the San Francisco neighborhood of Coyoacán, was remarkable: its main assets were its high ceiling and wide, unified ground floor space, about four times bigger than our current meditation hall. It also had a beautiful garden, and a very good location quite close to the center of Coyoacán.

Soon after, we started negotiations. Our initial offer was way too low, but slowly we got close. One factor worked in our favor: Jaime Reyes, an architect, had designed the house in 2001. He was a talented and generous person, beloved

by all of his family. In 2007, he died in a car accident, with his friend. The family tried to sell the house for 7 years; it is his nieces’ inheritance. Jaime had sympathy for Buddhism. On at least one occasion, some Tibetan monks came to the house and performed a service. The family, knowing that now a Buddhist group intended to transform the house into a temple, felt affinity and connection. They said, “We certainly don’t want the house (called Casa de la Luz, “House of Light,” for its abundance of light) to become some kind of office. We feel that Jaime would have loved the house to become a Buddhist Temple.”

We send a deep bow and gratitude to Sunim and the BCSW for the generous loan and support needed to buy this temple. It would have been impossible to achieve without the help and hard work of the entire sangha.

Hap chang! Toan

Mexico City Sangha continued

PROFILE:Maum Gloria Cox

Dharma Teacher Maum Gloria Cox first came to the Ann Arbor Zen Buddhist Temple in

2004. She took the Precepts in 2005, and later entered the Maitreya Buddhist Seminary.

She was ordained by Venerable Samu Sunim as a Dharma Teacher and has been serving in that capacity since 2010. Maum

will be leaving Jackson, Michigan to take up residence at the Ann Arbor Temple in July.

We happily look forward to her arrival and greater presence.


Well over 100 campers of all ages descended on Friends Lake Campground in late July for the Zen Buddhist Temple’s 29th Annual Peace Camp. One of the oldest and most renowned Buddhist camps for families in the nation, Peace Camp attracted adults and children from far beyond the borders of Michigan, extending to our sister temples in Chicago, Toronto and Mexico City, as-well-

as to friends from as far away as California and Florida, where a father and son found Peace Camp online when searching for Buddhist camps in northern climates.

Every camper took away many wonderful memories. For me, there are too many to list, but here are a few: the morning mist that hung heavily over the lake during morning meditation then dissipated as

the camp came to life with the sounds of breakfast and children’s laughter; falling asleep to the beautiful sound of the mok’tak as the Great Compassion Dharani was being chanted in the evenings, so spiritually nourishing even for those who had duties with children or others and were not able to be present; and finding the simple joys of preparing communal meals under the expert and infinitely patient guidance of chef Wonch’o Laura Rowe.

One of the biggest lessons this year was on the nature of impermanence, of how impermanence doesn’t need to be something we dread or try to conquer, but something that we can harmonize with and find joy in. The weather caused much impermanence in our lives, and because of it on two separate evenings campers set up an impromptu dinner setting in the Friends Center. These dinners became incredibly joyful affairs, with adults and children alike respecting the quickly devised rules and having so much fun in each others’ presence.

Smaller examples of impermanence touched us, as well: the Zen garden raked into the sandbox that was so heartily enjoyed by toddlers with trucks; the mats and cushions so painstakingly put in place again and again that were used morning, noon and night; the hundreds of pancakes that were flipped with bananas and blueberries, only to be devoured minutes after cooking by grateful campers; the dharma talk from Haju about the impermanence of even the toilet paper we used, which reminded us of how thankful we were to have it. Mainly,though, we were thankful to have each other, thankful for the beautiful setting in the woods, and thankful for the dharma realm of Peace Camp.

PEACE CAMP 2014: DISCOVERING JOY IN IMPERMANENCE by Hayeon Kelli Conlin Aug 2014

On the dock at Peace Camp (2014)

Peace Camp Game (2014)


With the help of Visiting Senior Teachers Haju Sunim and Kohye Jeff Boland, who come to teach classes, lead retreats, and give classes, the Chicago temple continues to thrive. Kosa Joe Schuman, Achala Jeff Legro, Noara Ellen McClure and Susim Bob Kessler conduct services, keep an eye on

the building, and do the bookkeeping, but we’re also indebted to our Advisory Council volunteers and to the temple members whose dharma talks refresh and enlighten. Highlights of the year include a successful Friday night Buddhist film series, a sold-out Buddha’s Birthday Feast

and incredibly entertaining Burning Karma Kabaret, as well as activities such as apple picking and tofu making. A very deep bow of thanks to everyone who helps to keep the Chicago temple going strong!

We are enjoying the third summer since the Toronto temple moved from College Street to Vaughan Road in December 2011. The moving and the following renovation was a big Dharma task to challenge the Sangha. Back in late 80s and 90s the temple was at the Vaughan

Road location and flourished with many members and various Dharma activities. Now the new Sangha benefits from a large garden, a temple house to accommodate a number of temple residents and a quieter surrounding. We focus on doing all the Dharma activities with excellence and

helping members cultivate noble Dharma friendship (Kalyana Mitra). In the upcoming fall training season we happily welcome new Dharma Student Ogong Young-Jik Kim and several Dharma Guardians. We look forward to a bright Dhama future to benefit the many.

THE CHICAGO SANGHA by Noara Ellen McClure

NEWS FROM TORONTO by Sanha

The Ha Family of Precept-Takers, and 2014 Precept Renewers


Summer 2014 Yongmaeng Jeongjin Participants

Haju, Sanha, Konggan, and Noan during Yongmaeng Jeongjin


From June 27 to July 2, 2014, thirty members of our sanghas in Mexico City, Chicago, Ann Arbor, and Toronto convened on the raised platforms of the second-floor retreat center of our New York City temple for summer Yongmaeng Jeongjin [Intensive Meditation Retreat].

Our founding teacher, the Venerable Samu Sunim, encouraged us to uncover the force of our inherent Buddha nature in the beauty of the present moment, and to enjoy our practice, whose quiet simplicity and vital energy were only enhanced by the busy swirling of the city around us. Each morning, we took three vows: to keep our practice constant, to keep it strong and vital, and to be grateful. As Sunim told us — “Use your 108 emotions and passions

for your practice; if you leave them lying around, they’ll start to annoy you.”

Mornings began with Toan Sunim leading us in walking meditation in Central Park. Tongsan Catherine Brown and the rest of the resourceful kitchen crew transformed obstacles into opportunities by serving fresh, healthy, delicious meals without a stove or hot water. And ample elbow grease, before the retreat, during work practice, and during cleaning periods made the temple shine. It was a wonderful way to celebrate the fulfillment of Sunim’s vow to return to New York City, and the opening of our beautiful new temple, where the dharma is indeed alive and strong.

NO SEOGAMONI BUDDHA IN FRONT, NO MAITREYA BEHIND by Noara Ellen McClure


Kusa’s Ordination Ceremony


“People do not recognize that their own minds are the true Buddhas. They do not recognize that their own natures are the true dharma. They want to search for the dharma, yet they still look far away for holy ones. They want to search for the Buddha, yet they will not observe their own minds. If they aspire to the path of Buddhahood while obstinately holding to their feeling that the Buddha is outside the mind or the dharma is outside the nature, then, even though they pass through kalpas as numerous as dust motes, writing sutras with their own blood, never lying down to sleep, eating only one offering a day, or even studying through the entire tripitaka and cultivating all sorts of ascetic practices, it is like trying to make rice by boiling sand —it will only add to their tribulation.”

- From [Secrets on Cultivating the Mind] Zen Master Chinul (1158-1210)

Dharma StudentsTwelve people are currently training in the Maitreya Buddhist Seminary Program. A special welcome to Novice Students Daman Antoni Camprubi (Mexico), Ogong Young-Jik Kim and T’ado Janice Bodnarchuk (Toronto), and Hayeon Kelli Conlin (Ann Arbor)!

Mexico:Konggan Petra Meyer 3rd year

Noan Javier Alvarez 2nd year

Bopkong Juanita Ochoa 2nd year

Nosang Arezki Hernandez 1st year

Nosuk Monica Barragan 1st year

Daman Antoni Camprubi novice

Toronto:Ogong Young-Jik Kim novice

T’ado Janice Bodnarchuk novice

Ann Arbor:Haru Sarah Juster 1st year

Hayeon Kelli Conlin novice

Chicago:Noara Ellen McClure 2nd year

Susim Bob Kessler 1st year

MAITREYA BUDDHIST SEMINARYCOMMUNITY NEWS

Warm congratulations to Kusa Ivan Mayerhofer on his ordination as a Dharma Teacher at the New York Temple on July 3. Kusa lives with his wife, Andreea Marinescu, in Colorado Springs, where he teaches high school. Kusa committed to the Ten Grave Precepts and the Ten Great Vows of Samantabhadra in a ceremony attended by members of all five of our temples.

Jeongji Lara of the Chicago Sangha welcomed a beautiful baby girl, Stella, in June of 2014.

Dharma Teacher Maum Gloria Cox took residence at the Ann Arbor Temple in July.

On September 21, 2014, Samu Sunim, Toan Sunim, and Hagok Mel Sebastiani joined 400,00 people participating in the People’s Climate Change March. Their signs read: Stop Pollution! Help Heal Mother Earth.

For more information on the Buddhist Society for Compassionate Wisdom, please visit our

website: www.zenbuddhisttemple.org.


Editorial board: Noara Ellen McClure, Kusa Ivan Mayerhofer, and Odong Marynia Kolak.

Layout and Design: Odong Marynia Kolak.Original Design: Kugong Brian Yates, Donny Harder

Artwork by Toan Josemaria Castelao.

Spring Wind Newsletter is published by the Buddhist Society for Compassionate Wisdom, a North American Buddhist order. Vol. 2 No. 1, Fall/Winter 2014.

Editorial Office1710 W. Cornelia AvenueChicago, IL 60657-1219, USA773.528.8685chicago@zenbuddhisttemple.orgwww.zenbuddhisttemple.org

© 2014 Spring Wind Newsletter. All rights reserved. Printed in the USA. Request for permissions and reprints must be made in writing. The opinions expressed herein are those of the authors and do not necessarily represent the view of the Buddhist Society for Compassionate Wisdom or the publisher. Readers’ comments and ideas are welcome.

Spring Wind Newsletter prints only original articles and does not guarantee the publication of unsolicited manuscripts. Spring Wind Newsletter cannot be responsible for loss of or damage to unsolicited material.

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