Daisaku Ikeda has said:

A higher religion does not negate rationality. No religion that suppresses human reason can earn the trust of humankind. Buddhism, the “religion of wisdom,” is an extremely rational religion. In fact, it is so rational that many Westerners even question whether is can be classified as a religion, since it does not teach the existence of a supreme being in the image of humankind.

I believe what is needed today is a cohesive philosophy for peace and tolerance that will spread from human heart to human heart without the fetters of suppressive dogma – a philosophy that embraces change and discovery.

I found this passage from president Ikeda’s New Human Revolution, which I am currently reading, particularly poignant.

…those who betray others do not have this spirit of gratitude. Such people just expect others to do things for them. They come to depend on others and to rely heavily on their goodwill.

Therefore, when other people don’t do as they expect, they feel cheated and disappointed and start to complain incessantly. The slightest setback causes them to sulk and sends them into depression. But they are really just making themselves miserable, and they end up wandering through a self-created maze of unhappiness.

The Gosho (WND, 3) says:

Even though you chant and believe in Myoho-renge-kyo, if you think the Law is outside yourself, you are embracing not the Mystic Law but an inferior teaching

Concerning yourself with what others are doing and  complaining when they don’t live up to your expectations is looking for the Law outside yourself. Such thinking ultimately comes down to spiritual weakness. It results from the lack of a philosophy of independence; a philosophy that teaches that everything starts with us and what we do. That philosophy is none other than Buddhism.

Taken from The New Human Revolution, Vol 2.

Nanjo Tokimitsu, at the time aged just 7, was so moved by the compassion shown for his father by the Daishonin, that he became a firm believer in the Daishonin’s Buddhism.

This letter was written to Nanjo when he was about 20 years old and consists of three main sections: the expression of gratitude for offerings received and reward for praising a Buddha, the introduction of the concept of the two kinds of faith, and the expression of deep concern for the health of Nanjo’s family including the offer of encouragement to Nanjo to remain steadfast in his faith.

This lecture will explore the second part of the letter that conveys the concept of the two kinds of faith. It is quite short, and reads:

Today there are people who have faith in the Lotus Sutra. The belief of some is like fire while that of others is like water. When the former listen to the teachings, their passion flares up like fire, but as time goes on, they tend to discard their faith. To have faith like water means to believe continuously without ever regressing. Since you visit me constantly, regardless of the difficulties, your belief is comparable to flowing water. It is worthy of great respect!

As usual, the Daishonin has employed his skill in simile and metaphor to explain to the young Nanjo how important it is to maintain a steady faith, rather than a faith that is erratic or unsustainable. He ends the paragraph by praising his follower for his maintaining a faith like flowing water, and citing it as “worthy of great respect”.

Why is it worthy of respect? Why is a faith like water, more praiseworthy than a faith like fire – and how can we benefit from the Daishonin’s observation?

Have you ever heard people in the west who, having spent less time in church in their lives than they spend watching TV in a week, have suddenly prayed to God when presented with a particular challenge or difficulty? I know I have. I’ve certainly been guilty of this myself in the past.

It’s as if one’s relationship with God only exists when we are in need. Is God more or less likely to answer the prayers of such people? I don’t know – that’s one for Christian theologians.

As Nichiren Buddhists, we pray to the Universal Law of Cause and Effect – or rather we pray to become at one with it – to live our lives in tune with it. If we only practice our faith from time to time, when we feel life is getting us down, then it’s not going to help very much.

Desperation Daimoku is not an effective Buddhist practice. Our human revolution consists of faith, practice and study. It runs through our daily lives like a river. We cannot simply pray for help when we need it and do nothing more – not least because this Buddhism doesn’t rely on a single supreme entity or consciousness to solve our problems. The mystic law of cause and effect makes us all responsible for our karma, and our suffering.

There is a well known story in the Gosho Letter to Nike that I’m going to include. Although many will already have read it, I think it is incredibly relevant. The Diashonin writes:

Deep in the Snow Mountains lives a bird called the cold-suffering bird that, tortured by the numbing cold, cries that it will build a nest in the morning. Yet when day breaks, it sleeps away the hours in the warm light of the morning sun without building its nest. So it continues to cry vainly throughout its life.

Does this sound familiar? It seems such an obvious fable, and many would shrug it off as trite and patronising – childish even. Which is interesting as it’s the subject of an excellent children’s book available from the SGI.

How many have left the leaky roof until the onset of winter? Or only changed their diet when the doctor told them their cholesterol was through the ceiling? Or only told someone how much they really loved them when they were on their deathbed?

The simplicity of this fable betrays a deep underlying wisdom that can be applied in all areas of our daily lives to great effect.

In the last passage, if we substitute “cry vainly” for “complain”, then we can perhaps start to recognise ourselves and those around us who bemoan our own suffering – suffering often caused behaviour that is easily within our powers to remedy. I’m sure we all know people who constantly complain about the same thing, despite the cause of their problem being as plain as the nose on your face. These people are like the cold suffering bird – essentially blind to their own Buddhahood.

The truly great benefit to someone who’s life is in this kind of situation, once Buddhism is properly applied, is that suffering can be transformed into enlightenment. It becomes the very driving force behind our own human revolution. Right here, right now.

Let’s get back to touch on an earlier question, which was why is a faith like flowing water worthy of respect?

A faith like fire at best is transient and short lived, at worst it can lead to fanaticism and corruption. The analogy to fire is an accurate one insofar that fire requires heat, fuel, and oxygen to exist. Anyone who has attended fire safety training will know that heat, fuel, and oxygen make up something called the fire triangle.

I think we can equate the fuel to something that we perceive as making us suffer, the oxygen to our belief in there being a solution (be it the Mystic Law, God, or any other personal belief) and the heat (or spark) to our desire to act to end the suffering. Take any one of these away, and a faith like fire will extinguish itself. Fire also utterly destroys anything it consumes, and the analogy extends itself in this respect too.

Once our immediate suffering is removed, we are left none the wiser (in the true sense of the word wisdom). After the input of so much prayer, suffering, and the desire to end it, we gain no enlightenment. This pattern of behaviour cannot possibly lead us to a genuine lasting happiness. How can it be worthy of great respect?

When we behave in this way, how must it extend into our daily lives? I’m sure we have all had friends or acquaintances who seem only to contact us when in need of help. Their smiles and pleasantries appear for the brief time we assist them, and then once the commotion or crisis is over they drift back into the distance.

Because such people see us only as the solution to their suffering, like the Cold Suffering Bird, they cry to “build the nest” of friendship only when they are in need. At all other times they show little compassion for anyone other than themselves? Such people do not recognise the praiseworthy Buddha inherent in us all. How can this be worthy of respect?

When we have a faith like flowing water – that is steady and constant, unaffected by the short lived wins and woes of daily life, then we maintain a consistent connection with the mystic truth that is, as Nichiren wrote, “originally inherent in all living beings”.

When the Daishonin writes in this letter to Nonjo Tokimitsu “regardless of the difficulties”, like flowing water, our faith should flow unceasingly over the boulders, rocks and shail of life, regardless of the challenges we may face.

When we maintain our daily practice, we constantly activate our Buddha wisdom. This, in turn, promotes our compassion for all living beings, and helps us perceive our own suffering as sources of enlightenment – it reminds us at all times to show gratitude to those with whom we share our lives.

When we have faith like flowing water we manifest Buddhahood and shine like a beacon – we manifest our true entity, our innate self, revealing it and bringing it to shine, illuminating all around us.

By chanting Nam Myoho Renge Kyo twice daily we maintain this river of faith in our lives, and help to reveal Buddhahood in others. As the Daishonin correctly points out, this is indeed worthy of great respect.

Like many nurses, she had occasionally joked about her work. Nothing defamatory, and certainly not slanderous – but a sort of gallows humour I suppose that people in certain professions share sometimes to diffuse darker situations. Clearly searching for a reason for her baby’s condition, and knowing that I practiced, she asked, “is this my karma for having joked about my work”?

I might have mumbled something along the lines of “don’t be so silly, of course not”. To be honest, the only memory I have of the conversation is a lingering sense of inadequacy.

Despite having read several books on Nichiren Buddhism, including the first volume of Nichiren’s writings, and this year’s study exam material, I could offer no meaningful words of comfort. There I stood, caught like a rabbit in the headlights of my daughter’s real life crisis. My knowledge of Buddhism far surpassed my wisdom, and I felt powerless to give a meaningful answer.

If we are to propagate the Buddha’s teachings and ease the sufferings of others, then we must develop our ability to engage with people in a way that encourages them to realise their own potential.

In “The Treatment of illness”, the Daishonin writes:

In the final analysis, unless we succeed in demonstrating that this teaching is supreme, these disasters will continue unabated.

Note, that the Daishonin uses the word demonstrating. He does not use words like, debating, arguing, persuading or any other term that might restrict us to some form of verbal intercourse.

We can only prove to our family and friends that this teaching is supreme by demonstrating it in our daily lives, through not just our words, but through our thoughts and deeds.

As followers of the Lotus Sutra and as disciples of Nichiren Daishonin our most compassionate act is to open the doors of enlightenment to others, allowing them to achieve true happiness.

Through our daily practice, our mission is to help others realise their potential and build indestructible towers of courage, compassion, and wisdom – to show they, too, possess the wish granting jewel sewn into the fabric of their lives.

If we are unable to communicate effectively, then how can we achieve this goal? If we are unable to truly connect with the hearts of others, then how can we achieve Kosen Rufu?

Kosen Rufu has been defined by the SGI as meaning “world peace through individual happiness”. Unfortunately, many people have an idea of “individual happiness” that can never lead to world peace. In the west, and increasingly the world over, individual happiness is confused with material wealth and a life free of challenges or problems.

It is fair to say there is more hatred, intolerance and suffering today than at any other time in human history. This is the effect of people being so blinded by hunger, animality and anger that they have lost sight of that which is eternal – the dignity and wonder of having been born a human being.

Whether in relation to individuals, communities, ethnic groups, or entire countries, the pursuit of material wealth always results in someone having to suffer to make allowances for another’s consumption. This isn’t a communist or socialist ideal, it’s a fact we see in the news every day.

Even the seemingly harmless desire to enjoy an ice cold Soda Pop has lead to entire villages in the third world being unable to irrigate their crops as the water table is slowly sucked dry by the local Soda Pop factory. To desire things (to have attachments), is what makes us human. But how often do we stop to consider the suffering caused as a consequence?

For some people, happiness means a quiet life – free of problems and challenges. Although seductive, this kind of existence generally creates social barriers and when taken to the extreme, gives rise to things like gated communities or aparthied – this can only foster the further entrenchment of prejudices that lead to social breakdown.

Many times people have come into great material fortune, and after they have purchased a large house, expensive clothes, cars, a yacht perhaps, they become quite bored and unhappy, turning to alcohol, gambling or drugs. Like a stationary stone that gathers moss, a life without challenges becomes dull and tarnished.

Today, the need for a correct kind of indestructible happiness is pressing. This need is only matched by the difficult task of spreading this Buddhism in the latter day of the law. As Shakyamuni told in the fourth chapter of the Lotus Sutra:

Since hatred and jealousy [toward this sutra] abound even when the Thus Come One is in the world, how much more will this be so after his passing?

In his day, Shakyamuni was reviled for daring to preach that everyone was equally able to achieve enlightenment – and not only this, he taught that Buddhahood could be achieved in this lifetime.

Over 2000 years later, after T’ien t’ai and Dengyo had studied and written about teachings of the Lotus Sutra, the Daishonin re-lit the torch and began teaching the essential practice of chanting the daimoku of the Lotus Sutra – the essential practice for realising true happiness in this lifetime – the teaching that embrases the Three Thousand Realms and the simultaneity of cause and effect.

Unlike Shakyamuni Buddha or the Daishonin, we live in an age dominated by people of incorrigible disbelief. These are people who aren’t simply devoid of spiritual nourishment – these are people who actively turn away from it.

Most people simply aren’t interested in Buddhism, or any other spiritual teaching for that matter. In the eyes of western society religion itself has become outmoded, irrelevant, destructive and negative – “hokey”, even. So how do we go about spreading this Buddhism?

The Daishonin writes in The Three Kinds of Treasure:

The heart of the Buddha’s lifetime of teachings is the Lotus Sutra, and the heart of the practice of the Lotus Sutra is found in the “Never Disparaging” chapter. What does Bodhisattva Never Disparaging’s profound respect for people signify? The purpose of the appearance in this world of Shakyamuni Buddha, the lord of teachings, lies in his behavior as a human being.

When I really think about this paragraph, it could probably be the subject of an entire essay. There are two primary points I want to make. The first, and most obvious, is that our purpose as votaries of the Lotus Sutra is best demonstrated through our interactions with others. Not necessarily through preaching to others about the various merits of Buddhism, but through taking action to improve the life state of those we touch in our daily lives.

A further look at this paragraph also reveals that our purpose, as Buddhas, is signified by Bodhisattva Never Disparaging’s profound respect for people. It was only through Bodhisattva Never Disparaging’s determination to bow in reverence to everyone he met and to praise their inherent Buddha nature that the people who initially berated and persecuted him were ultimately moved to become his disciples and set themselves on the path to attaining Buddhahood.

Later in the Never Disparaging chapter Shakyamuni reveals that he himself was Bodhisavtta Never Disparaging in the remote past. Shakyamuni’s behavior as Never Disparaging is by implication an original cause for Shakyamuni’s later enlightenment.

So, what does this mean for us?

When we talk about Bodhisattva Never Disparaging’s “profound respect for people”, what do we mean? Respect is a very loaded word, and very mis-used today.

Respecting someone should not always mean obeying or agreeing with them. I’m sure we’ve all seen aggressive rap videos with gang members demanding respect by pointing a gun at the camera. This is nothing more than demanding submission.

Another word which can cause some confusion is Obeisance. Bodhisattva Never Disparaging’s show of obeisance to others simply meant that he bowed respectfully. It had nothing to do with obeying them, and it did not imply that he agreed with whatever they were doing at the time.

So exactly what did Bodhisattva Never Disparaging respect? When he bowed in obeisance to others, he praised their inherent Buddha nature. He respected the fact that each person he met was a potential Buddha and continued to praise their potential for enlightenment even when their deeply held negative view of life often led them to despise him.

Lets suppose for a moment, you have a friend who’s relationship has just ended. You’re helping this person clear his stuff out of his girlfiend’s home. Probably, the last thing you should do is pipe up “You just need to stop behaving like a slob, and she might take you back”. Of course, you may well attempt to sugar coat your observations, but the recipient will instantly taste the bitterness of their own fundamental darkness, and they will usually react badly.

Although we can often firmly believe we are correct, our advice can at best form an expedient means for temporary relief – at it’s worst it could precipitate damage to your own friendship, making it harder to connect on a deeper level in future.

This is often what results when we try to offer advice or act based on our own limited karma. When we do this, we are making causes based on the lower life states, the effects of which can never manifest buddhahood.

The Diashonin writes,

The Venerable Shariputra attempted to instruct a blacksmith by teaching him to meditate on the vileness of the body, and to instruct a washerman by teaching him to conduct breath-counting meditation. Even though these disciples spent over ninety days in their respective meditations, they did not gain the slightest understanding of the Buddha’s teachings. On the contrary, they took on erroneous views and ended by becoming icchantikas, or persons of incorrigible disbelief.

Later, Shakyamuni revealed that if the washerman was to meditate upon the vileness of the body, and the blacksmith was taught the breath-counting meditation to help with his hammering and pumping of the bellows, then they would both have benefited greatly.

The Daishonin also writes:

For example, if a farmer were to plant his fields in autumn and winter, then, even though the seed and the land and the farmer’s efforts were the same as ever, this planting would not result in the slightest gain but rather would end in loss.

So, without the wisdom to appreciate the correct teaching, the person’s capacity, and the correct time, then even the most skilled at verbal communication can find themselves doing more harm than good. Poor old Shariputra!

These lessons teach us that when we truly wish to help someone, and lead them to realising their own Buddhahood, we must approach the issue as Buddha’s – not as our karma-laden manifest selves, but from our highest life-state, our Buddha state.

Last year I had to help my son move his stuff out of the home he had shared with the mother of his newborn child. Their relationship had failed. My son had also lost his job. I was pretty frustrated at the time, as I was sure his situation could have been predicted if he had looked more carefully at his behaviour.

However, I knew that the most compassionate act at the time was to simply help him move his stuff. If I had opened my mouth at that time, I would have almost certainly offered the wrong advice – advice based on the overwhelming sense of frustration and irritation I felt – advice based on my karma, and not on my Buddha state.

I wasn’t going to join in slandering his ex-partner, or telling him where I think he went wrong. I simply offering the help that was needed at the time, and encouraged him to retain a positive outlook.

Daisaku Ikeda, in his New Human Revolution, compares our life state to a kite:

Kites rise up when they encounter a strong breeze. You must remember, too, that when you experience hard or painful things in your life, they are your strong wind, your chance to grow and fly high.

Our faith, practice and study is like the kite’s strong straight cord anchoring us to our indestructible buddhahood. With this strong cord, the wind of life’s challenges elevate our life condition ever higher.

Without firm conviction in our faith, like a kite without a cord, we are swept along the dusty ground and fail to see the potential in our lives – or in others – unable to change anything for the better.

As you make these great causes for happiness, how can you fail to succeed in realising victory in your own life and the lives of those around you?

The mystic expedient

People who are in the state of hell and hunger often ask for direct short term handouts rather than long term help. However, very often it is the physical expedient of providing immediate aid that actually saves lives.

The old saying goes, “Give a man a fish, and he’ll eat for a day – teach a man to fish, and he’ll eat for a lifetime.”

How many of us I wonder, when in the depths of hunger (physically or metaphorically), would choose the fishing rod (the correct teaching) over a steaming portion of fish and chips (an expedient)?

The real beauty of the mystic law is that when we earnestly chant Nam Myoho Renge Kyo and summon forth the wisdom of the Buddha, we see that the fishing rod and the portion of fish and chips can be the same thing.

When we are truly in tune with the Buddha’s intent, then our compassionate words and deeds act not only as the expedient meal of fish and chips, but also act as the cause, or seeds of enlightenment that become planted in the heart of who we are helping. Later, these seeds germinate and produce the wisdom, and courage to learn to use the fishing rod.

As long as we live our lives in accordance with our karmic tendencies, developing this kind of wisdom is impossible. Likewise, when we try to help and advise people based on our karmic knowledge (i.e. from our own subjective experiences), then by trying to help we may make the situation worse (like Shariputra).

This is because our personal experience of life will differ from that of the person we are trying to help. You must have come across people who have lost weight, and boast to their fat friends how they achieved their goal, or wealthy people boasting about how anybody can get rich by reading the book they just wrote about their own success? This sort of advice is about as useful as a lottery winner sharing his winning numbers after the draw has already been made. The people who dish this sort of advice out are more connected to the sound of their own voice than to helping others achieve true happiness.

My karma is unique. It is the result of my distant past. It isn’t the same as yours, and so when I try to offer help from my own limited bag of knowledge, I am bound to fail. Only when I can summon my Buddhahood and connect with yours can advancement occur. Unlike our differing karma, everyone’s Buddhastate is in tune with the mystic law – here is where true connections of the heart take place.

Prior to the teaching of the Lotus Sutra, manifesting the wisdom of the Buddha was believed to have taken countless lifetimes of strict practices. Luckily for us, Shakyamuni expounded the essential teaching for attaining Buddhahood in this lifetime in the form of the Lotus Sutra. Luckier still, Nichiren Daishonin encapsulated the essence of this teaching in the five characters of Nam Myoho Renge Kyo.

As persons living in the latter day of the law, it is our practice of this Buddhism, by chanting Nam Myoho Renge Kyo and by engaging with the challenges of every day life that we can be sure to connect with others on a profound level. The Daishonin writes:

If even Shariputra, the foremost in wisdom among the disciples of the Buddha, failed to understand people’s capacity, then how much more difficult must it be for ordinary teachers today, in the Latter Day of the Law, to have such an understanding! Ordinary teachers who lack an understanding of people’s capacity should teach only the Lotus Sutra to those who are under their instruction.

When someone realises that you are Buddhist, they naturally observe your words and deeds. So, by helping my son clear his flat with an earnest determination to connect with his heart through encouraging him to build an even better future, I can be sure to plant the seeds of Buddhism in his life.

The world is awash with people who can “talk the talk” – we see them on television every day – we vote them into power – we go to war in their name. What a rare thing indeed is the person who truly “walks the talk” without begrudging their life in the cause of peace and human happiness.

The way we should teach the Lotus Sutra to others in the latter day of the Law is by example. By living lives full of value, and demonstrating courage, compassion and wisdom, we will naturally attract people’s attention and admiration. When we are practising correctly, we won’t need to evangelise.

Do not berate yourself when you are unable to conjure eloquent words to explain a point of Buddhist theory. The skill of dialogue will grow with your understanding of this Buddhism.

As long as you let others know your genuine respect for their human potential and demonstrate your sincere determination to help them become happy, then a connection will be made. Practice the Daimoku of life with strong faith and you will naturally illuminate the potential for Buddhahood in others without having to utter a single word.

My head was full of Shakabuku – or rather my interpretation of it, and my mind was busy developing plans and schemes to recruit new Buddhists. Later that year, however, during a discussion someone explained to me that this simply wasn’t the way the SGI worked.

At the time felt frustrated, but un-necessarily so. While on one hand, Shakabuku means to “suppress others’ illusions and to subdue their attachment to error”, on the other hand, Shoju, a less used term for the more subtle form of propagation, means to “lead others to the correct teaching gradually, according to their capacity and without directly refuting their religious misconceptions”.

Nichiren Daishonin, in The Opening of the Eyes prescribes both methods, and indicates the conditions that should prevail in order for each one to be used effectively.

Mahatma Gandhi wisely said, “Good travels at a snails pace.”

We cannot rush the spread of peace, or we risk peace itself. The slow growth of the SGI does not imply a lack of motivation or commitment – on the contrary, it should be regarded as a steady and indefatigable march towards realising peace and human happiness. A glacier travels slowly but unceasingly toward the sea, so Kosen Rufu too should be regarded as a steady and unstoppable inevitability.

Our mission to foster relationships built on the firm bonds of friendship, trust and respect, allows us to demonstrate the benefit of our practice in our daily lives. Through sincere dialogue and the steady cultivation of a solid common consensus, Kosen Rufu will definitely be realised.

The driving force he speaks of is when we stand up, and begin challenging those aspects of our life that are not working for the happiness of ourselves and others. Only when we make human happiness our intent can our buddha-state become our dominant life condition – and then, together with our friends and family, we find the courage to carve out a new life. Sometimes the challenges can seem daunting and difficult, but our Daimoku can generate the life force we need to tackle them head-on.

When this kind of courage becomes the driving force in our lives, we can let go of our fear of change – we can look at ourselves honestly, and start to aspire to our dreams – We can become the kind of person that our society needs today. Through our thoughts, words, and deeds we can begin to challenge our negative beliefs about ourselves and others. When we do this, we start to see that everyone has the potential for brilliance, and that our goal is to bring this forth from everyone we meet. We can see proof of this in our daily lives when we put this into practice.

We can see and feel this courage when we make human happiness our goal at this moment. Then, our lives are lifted beyond the prison of our karma and we are free to care about our true selves and the lives of those around us.

Have you experienced true courage like this, and if so, how has it affected your life?

N.B. (posted a few hours after my baby Grand Daughter had her first brain operation – I love you baby girl)

The potential for enlightenment exists within all human beings. An ungainly chick has the potential to become a great eagle, the single roe egg to become a great salmon, and the young cheetah to become faster even than antelope. Why then do human beings endowed with the capacity for intelligence and great understanding constantly fail to fulfil their potential and create the causes for suffering in their lives?

Confinement refers not only to tangible barriers, like walls, or borders, but also to barriers caused by our own individual fundamental darkness. Our negative tendencies blind us to our true potential, making us feel trapped within the lower life states of hell, hunger, animality and anger. We constantly fall into the three evil paths of greed, anger and foolishness, and we commit the ten evil acts – the causes we make in these states deepen our suffering and create further desires based on our bad karma – it is a vicious cycle.

Josei Toda, the second president of the SGI, through his physical confinement in prison during the second world war, was able to summon the wisdom to read the Lotus Sutra and realised that Buddhahood is manifest in life itself.

This one moment of insight transformed Mr Toda’s life, and catalysed the growth of the SGI in post war Japan. This subsequently revitalised the cause for Kosen Rufu throughout the world.

Despite his inability to directly influence affairs outside his cell, the causes made when Mr Toda experienced the Lotus Sutra led to profound effects upon many around the world.

A prison cell, however, is a relative confinement. The insects that occupied Josei Toda’s prison cell were most likely unaware of the rest of the prison, and even less aware of the country of Japan, it’s people’s anguish, or the needless suffering being experienced by countless millions of people due to the Second World War. Those insects surely went about their daily business, oblivious to these facts.

In many ways, one can draw a parallel between the prison walls and our subjective view of reality – or more precisely, where we imagine the limits of our potential to be. Unenlightened people are like the insects in the prison – vaguely aware of boundaries in their life, but spending most of their time comfortable in having “just enough” space to avoid feeling trapped by what they see as their limitations. However, when challenges arise, it is these perceived boundaries that cause us to suffer.

When people are amused by meaningless trinkets, misled by the poisonous machinations of corrupt rulers, or deluded by jealous and vengeful doctrines, their lives are diminished and their Buddha nature is denied – they experience the hell of incessant suffering.

Josei Toda’s imprisonment, on the other hand, despite it’s stark physical reality, provided him with the opportunity to transcend his own difficulties, and thus realise his Buddha nature. This in turn blessed him with the vision that all life has the potential for Buddhahood – The land of tranquil light existed in Mr Toda’s life, despite his confinement.

In prison, despite losing his mentor, Tsunesaburo Makiguchi, Josei Toda went on to foster the growth of the SGI and to begin the process of transforming this world into the land of tranquil light. Let us follow his lead in revealing our own Buddha nature. Let us build multi layered networks of friendship and support that will overcome the forces that promote foolish desires and the suffering they cause. Just as Josei Toda transformed his prison cell, let us transform our homes, societies and countries into great lands of tranquil light.

Nichiren Daishonin said

First of all, as to the question of where exactly hell and the Buddha exist, one sutra states that hell exists underground, and another sutra says that the Buddha is in the west. Closer examination, however, reveals that both exist in our five-foot body. This must be true because hell is in the heart of a person who inwardly despises his father and disregards his mother. It is like the lotus seed, which contains both blossom and fruit. In the same way, the Buddha dwells within our hearts.

There are days when we all feel tired, and need to rest, but to become habitually lazy and feckless is to decay your life force. Nichiren Diashonin once wrote “those who stay long in privies forget how foul the smell is”.

So, a few months later, I was invited to read this out for real, at the 2012 new year’s HQ study meeting in Sutton Coldfield. The invitation came literally within an hour of a conversation with my mother who was quite disinterested in listening to my experience. The timing was quite amazing, and encouraged me to accept the invitation despite my smaller self screaming NO!

My 20 year journey to the Gohonzon

My experience began 20 years ago, in an anxiety support group. After working long hours away from home to support my mom after her marriage breakup, and I burnt out – My GP had me on medication that made me feel terrible, resulting in regular panic attacks.

So there I was, on the mental health treadmill, sat in a room full of people with whom I felt little in common. Naturally, I gravitated to the one person in the group I could relate to as another burnt out “professional”.

Debbie, was studying for her law exams. We talked at length about the nature of our problems and towards the end of the anxiety group sessions she gave me a copy of Richard Causton’s book now sold as The Buddha in Daily Life. She also invited me to a district meeting in Selly Oak. I accepted.

A few days later, I drove to a side street in Birmingham. It looked quite ordinary, although really I didn’t know what to expect. No orange flags, or statues of the Buddha in the window. In fact there was no sign of life at all.

I began to convince myself I had got the wrong date or address. I sat for a while longer and finally plucked up courage to get out of the car. It was dark and I felt truly out of my depth as I walked to the door. I gingerly pressed the bell button, hoping it wouldn’t make a sound but in fact it was quite loud.

A light came on behind the opaque glass door, and I could make out a stairway, and a figure dashing down to meet me – I could hear the drone of what sounded like chanting. I had the sudden urge to run away, or ask for a fictitious name, anything that would help me escape… too late… The door opened, and I was invited inside.

I was shown upstairs into a room full of people who were chanting Nam Myoho Renge Kyo at breakneck speed, including Debbie – her friendly face did little to calm my nerves. I was offered a seat, which I gladly accepted – my legs had turned to jelly.

I sat through Gongyo. Bearing in mind, this was the long Gongyo that was practiced before the SGI split from the priesthood. People were reciting it by heart – and fast! The sound, and the atmosphere were electric. I remember stiffling a giggle – it was just so intense!

After Gongyo had finished, Debbie introduced me to a few of the members. Nobody tried to browbeat me with their beliefs, but they were all quite curious to know how I felt – Probably because I had gone a sort of pale green colour due to another panic attack.

I tried to stick out the meeting, but the anxiety symptoms wouldn’t go away. As was becoming habitual, I made my excuses and left. As I drove home my anxiety subsided, and I began to regret having come away. I shall never forget that first meeting, and the warmness of the people there.

Unfortunately, my life had to get worse before it would improve, and my anxiety tightened its grip. I began to withdraw and become agoraphobic – afraid to travel very far, and avoiding social contact whenever possible – it was not surprising looking back that I soon lost touch with Debbie.

However, the seed had been planted. Nam Myoho Renge Kyo stuck firmly in my mind, and I would chant it from time to time – sometimes out of desperation, and sometimes out of rapture, but rarely regularly or with any conviction.

The next 15 years of my life were a mess of remission, regression, divorce, and many more visits to various mental health services, and ironically a job in the NHS for several years.

It was around this time that I married the most wonderful woman, Dawn, who’s birthday on 28th April was doubly easy to remember as it also marks the date when Nichiren Diashonin first announced the Daimoku!

I started working for myself as a photographer but my health continued to drag me down and prevent me from attending assignments. It was only after we underwent the strains of caring for Dawn’s mom, Millie, while she steadily lost her fight with lung cancer, that things began to change for me.

I’ll never forget the evening when Millie passed away in the room which is now my office at home. Shortly before she died, she held my hand, and asked me, “you will look after Dawn, won’t you?” – Dawn had previously been married to an abusive man, so the gravity of Millie’s question was clear. I assured her that I would always be there for Dawn. Within a couple of hours, Millie slipped away in the company of her children.

This was a turning point. Despite being at such a physical low, I determined to sort out my life and become capable of supporting my family instead of feeling physically dependant on them. I was still suffering from terrible fatigue and anxiety, being unable to walk or travel without feeling totally exhausted.

I had to get out of this mess. I was afraid I would suffer with Chronic Fatigue for the rest of my life – That I would never be able to overcome any serious obstacles ever again. I felt so low there were times I sat alone in my small studio and wept for hours.

Then, a few weeks later, I came across abuddhistpodcast, a kind of buddhist radio show on the internet. The style and content gripped me, and then I heard the name, Nichiren Daishonin! – That rings a bell! I immediately turned the house upside down, and uncovered the book I had been given so long ago. Nichiren Daishonin’s buddhism was back in my life! Was it just coincidence, or serendipity? Regardless, something in this buddhism clicked and I decided to take the bull by the horns and engage with it.

I decided to get in touch with the producer, Jason Jarrett, who had just recorded his most recent show from his hospital bed while suffering encephalitis! Jason’s warmth and enthusiasm for helping me understand Buddhism was incredible.

A few months later I visited Jason and his wife, Karen at Taplow Court, and subsequently met Jason when he attending meetings in the midlands. Slowly I began to build my faith and learn more about the practice. Various local leaders of the SGI took the time to visit me in my home, which I greatly appreciated. Considering my continued procrastination, their patience was commendable!

I felt I would put things truly to the test when, after almost 12 years of estrangement, I decided to end the silence between me and my father. It was very emotional, and has diffused a great deal of anger and unhappiness.

Knowing that we could have reconciled our differences sooner remains regrettable, and yet I am joyful that, unlike so many father-son feuds, we had realised the foolishness of our situation before it was too late.

By this time my business had grown to provide me with a realistic income. Then, about three years ago my neighbour was diagnosed with cancer. A carpenter by trade, being restricted to spending time pottering around his home was clearly affecting his spirits. I asked him if he would make a Butsudan for me. He kindly accepted and built me a lovely Butsudan. I also found myself starting to gather various books from the SGI, and chanting more regularly. So what was I waiting for? Why hadn’t I joined the SGI?

I was still afraid, and my low energy made me unsure if I was worthy or able to fulfil a role in the SGI.

I continued chanting more and more often. Sometimes in front of the Butsudan, sometimes walking the dog, sometimes while driving. Like a great wave rising as it approaches the shore I could feel an increasing conviction that chanting was changing my life – filling me with hope for the future.

Then, in October 2010, after a lot of hard work and encouragement from friends and family, I realised a life long ambition and got my pilot’s license – On one hand, this was a great achievement, but on the other, it just allowed me to be antisocial above the clouds.

However, I felt sure I was on a roll, so I pressed on with tackling my social anxieties and decided a few months later to take the plunge and attend a Wolverhampton and Dudley district meeting.

Why had I left it so long? I’ve met some wonderful friends there who I feel I’ve known for years. I always return from meetings feeling inspired, energised and hopeful.

A few months ago, I had managed to sneak away from the office for a quick flight. It was a warm day, and the air was turbulent and hazy near the ground.

As I climbed through the bumpy air, my journey through Buddhism to this point ran through my mind. Some flying students dislike the turbulence so much they give up learning to fly altogether. Likewise, our initial buddhist practice can get off to a rough start and we can become equally discouraged.

As I climbed through the haze the visibility was awful – and likewise, my initial practice didn’t give me the insight into my life that I was expecting. But just as clear skies were above me, I knew by continuing my practice, things would definitely improve.

Above the haze and everything became silky smooth and crystal clear. It was a moment of clarity in more ways than one. By maintaining my faith and conviction in the Lotus Sutra, and the SGI’s noble values I knew that my understanding of the vast beauty of the law would grow – giving me a better view of reality as it really is, and not subject to my limited wisdom.

In that moment I made the determination to receive the Gohonzon. The truth of course, was that I always had been, but now the desire was burning in me like a torch.

At the very next meeting, I made it known that I would like to receive the Gohonzon into my life. Needless to say, my friends at the district were thrilled that I had taken the plunge.

On 2nd October 2011, I stood up on the platform at Taplow Court, and to jubilant cheers from my wife and friends who had come to support me from the district, I received the Gohonzon from Sue Thornton. I’m not too proud to admit that tears of happiness streamed down my face as I returned to my seat in the hall.

So, how has it changed my life?

I realised that my work was starting to take over my life, so a few weeks ago I sold part of my business so that I could slow down a little, and focus more on things that add value to my life.

My baby grand daughter, for example, is soon to undergo an operation to deal with a cyst in her brain the size of a tennis ball. We’re still not sure how things will turn out, but instead of focussing on what might go wrong, I now cherish every moment I can spend with her.

Also, as I was writing this, I was asked to give another example of a challenge I had overcome since receiving the Gohonzon.

Of the four devils, illness is one of the most difficult to overcome, perhaps because it can seem so unfair and arbitrary, it can be very demoralising. Mental illness, especially, can present a particularly difficult challenge to our happiness. Because it affects our mind – the very part of us we need to master in order to overcome our delusions, mental illness can be very debilitating, and difficult to conquer.

I’m standing here doing something that I simply could not have done a year or so ago – at least not without a raft of tranquilisers. In fact I would probably have done anything to avoid it.

The reason I have overcome my fears to deliver this experience today is that I have come to firmly believe we are all connected. I’m a Buddha, and you are all Buddha’s too. When I look at you all, I get the same feeling I get when I face the Gohonzon – like the sun, warming my bones on a winter’s day, your compassion elevates me.

It’s a wonderful feeling, and gives me the wisdom, courage and compassion to strive for benefit, growth and ultimately happiness despite adversity in my life. It’s a wonderful state – and one I hope to help others realise in their own lives for many years to come.

I only hope that I am able to give back to my family, my dear friends in the SGI, including Rita, Barbara and Klara, and my Mentor Daisaku Ikeda, the gratitude that I owe for this wonderful practice. Thank you.