Calligraphy, the art of beautiful writing, has a deep history in much of Buddhist Asia. At one level, the art of writing can be an act of merit: repeatedly copying sutras or mantras. It can also be a practice of mindfulness: being absorbed in the moment, focusing fully on the movements of the hand, the flow of the ink, the feel of the pen or brush on the paper, the repetition of letters.

At another level calligraphy is deeply tied to Tantric schools of Buddhism. The visualization of a seed syllable (b?ja) or mantra as part of meditation is made easier by learning to write them. Particularly beautifully written letters are valued in this context.

Is it possible to make a Soto Zen sangha flourish in a small rural town in Eastern Africa? Apparently, it is. This article describes the dojo of Morogoro town, in rural Tanzania, but also explores my feelings of amazement when I visited it. For years, I have asked myself how to reconcile the need to attend the sangha back home, in Europe, with my deep passion to work in developing countries as a humanitarian nutritionist.

In February this year, during a sesshin in Spain, I asked my Zen Master Roland Yuno: “…I have lived for many years in developing countries and I have realized that my practice has become stiff, lonely and sometimes sterile because of the absence of a sangha. Soon I will go back home to Kenya and I do not know what I should do really”. The Master, in the most direct and easy way ever, popped up the solution I had been seeking for years (and I never dared to ask): “Well, my Belgian disciple lives in Tanzania (neighboring Kenya!). He also works in humanitarian activities, and has set up a sangha. He is an ordained monk. Why not get in touch with him?”

I’ve found this approach to be so much more intimate, because then I can just be with that person in their moment of pain. It’s as though I’m gently whispering, “Yes, I too know what it’s like to feel fear, to feel anger, to feel despair.” Compassion arises naturally from this practice, and mindfulness extends from the inner world to the outer. The Buddha originally taught mindfulness of both, explaining that it isn’t only our own internal suffering that we ought to attend to, but also the suffering of others. This, I’ve been finding, is the bridge from focusing solely on “my liberation” to having a genuine concern for the welfare of others. It’s with this in mind that I offer a deep thanks to all those people who have offered this gift to me—I know it was freely given.

As I continue to practice, I start to see suffering in the attachment and preference of one side or the other. No matter how hard I try to get rid of the unpleasant sensations they continue to arise. I continue to have bodily pains and things change constantly. The key, I found, is to let things arise and pass naturally. Holding on to nothing. Surrendering over and over again to what IS. Gradually, by learning to relax into the moment there is freedom. As the Buddha taught, “dwelling happily in things as they are.” Love arises with a deep stability outside of these conditions. I am human. This is it. Here is true happiness—the simplicity of being alive.

We need to get away from the idea that enlightenment is a cosmic bliss out. I find that to be a pernicious and highly prevalent misconception. Everybody wants to think, “Okay, I’m going to get enlightened and then my life will be pleasant all the time. I’ll have a beatific smile on my face. I will wear flowing white robes. Everybody will love me and bow down and kiss my feet. I will never say anything rude or harsh. I will lose my sexual desire because, after all, sexual desire is a little bit icky. And let’s see—I’ll never get angry.” Come on. That’s kids’ stuff.

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The Ati-Buddha Samantabhadra is in reality a metaphor for our own original pure state that always has been and always will remain pure, with diamond-like indestructibility never conditioned by dualism. It has been said of this so-called Great Perfection, that even if all the Victorious Ones (i.e., Buddhas) of all the three times (past, present, future) were to deliberate together, they would find nothing beyond this Primordial State. It is the end of all paths to enlightenment, the Essence of Mind, and the quintessence of the Fruit: there is no higher realization. Regaining this original ground of being is complicated by Samsara, the illusion that the apparent world of forms is other than oneself, and Nirvana, the concept that to transcend illusion is something to be desired.

Four Paths and the Progress of Insight, so let’s talk about them.

Joel Groover: OK. So for me it has been kind of a revelation and… you know, it is funny to me. I’ve done a lot of reading of the magazines and dharma books and it was still a revelation that, actually, that these things are real—that these, the Paths, are actually something that people attain. I was really unaware of that. And now, I had studied in a Tibetan tradition when I was younger and took a class on Buddhism, but the Paths were presented, the Paths and Bhumis, along with like the nagas, the water spirits. It was just so bound up in … and this just may be my fault. I was a logical positivist at heart and maybe not listening carefully, but I didn’t really take this seriously.