Too Much Buddha Business

 

By Tim Cooper

The Dharma cannot be bought or sold.

It simply cannot be expressed as a financial transaction—it needs to be freely given and received. If not, it becomes a realm of a select and wealthy few whose notion of the Dharma is a mere reflection of their own values and prejudices, their own elitism, their own search for a moral high ground from where they can judge lesser mortals. When this happens, the Dharma can turn into an aberration and little more than a fashion accessory to be owned along with your discretely labelled but heinously expensive outdoor footwear.

I feel that this has happened in Western Buddhism, and no one’s to blame, but everyone is responsible.

It all started last year when I read an article written by Brent Oliver. If you’re willing to pay the price for subscription, you can read it. It’s called White Trash Buddhist. The thing is, you have to pay to read things on Tricycle. You have to pay to learn more about Western Dharma on the Internet Then I found another article written by Ann Gleig entitled Beyond the Upper Middle Way. That’s on Lion’s Roar; you can read it for free, but you have three chances and then you have to pay.

I’m mildly surprised that both magazines decided to publish the articles, given that they both put a harsh spotlight onto the demographic that forms the majority of their readership: the Great White American Middle Class.

Then I discovered TTB, and Gerry Stribling, and that’s when the whole thing went tits up. You see, I was following the Vajrayana tradition, spending money I didn’t have on courses, thinking how the fuck can I save money I don’t have to go on an overpriced retreat, and then along comes a chubby ex-marine who breezily takes a rotary cannon and shoots the fabric of Western middle-class Buddhism so full of holes that it looks like a badly made colander.

So, what went wrong for me? Simple really, when you’re willing to let go of the need to be right.

It started off like this. Another neurotic interior dialogue to add to the ones about how getting old really sucks and how is it possible that my partner does not understand all my whims. It began with how on earth can you charge to teach the Dharma? My partner looked scandalised when I told her about the prices that Vajrayana study centres charge. She says she’d tell the local Catholic priest to drop dead if he started to charge for attending mass, so why the hell do Vajrayana Buddhist centres demand so much money just to listen to teachings?

Or participate in retreats? Or simply attend a puja? Or just be there, you know, like stand in a sacred space?

Then there were the gentle and not so gentle admonishments from Vajrayana nuns. One nun sneering at women who wear high heels, another pouring scorn on her audience for just chanting metta and not practising it. Yet another deriding middle-class Buddhists for wanting instant enlightenment.

But doesn’t there come a point when you need to ask these softly spoken mother superiors to what extent they are complicit in a spiritual/financial transaction that includes videos in which they transmit the truly awe-inspiring message that thinking a lot is not good for you?

Where the Eightfold Path isn’t even mentioned, like even once? I’m sure that a lot of the money goes to good causes, but think on it: for every 10 euros or dollars more you pay out to be told you’re a self-indulgent wanker, there’s one less white (or black, or red, or green) trash Buddhist out there who might have a very real need to be part of the event and can’t be because paying the rent and eating takes up all their income.

Then there were the experiences with local Vajrayana centres—all pretty bleak.

One study centre that never meets up to do anything, although it did have a weekend teaching session over a year ago; of course you had to pay. You’re a first-time visitor, but you have to pay. The local monastery sells badly made, badly translated books at a very high price. The retreats there cost a fucking fortune.

Finally, I just gave up.

The Buddha did say that you have to find your own path, the way that works for you, because when push comes to shove, you’re the only fucker walking it. So, I turned to Theravada. And to my surprise and delight I discovered the following:

A Greek Theravada group has a website and offers participation in meditation at no cost. They want you in and practicing, no mention of subscriptions or fees.

There’s a Theravada monastery near Barcelona. Want to see how they function? Just go.

They do not charge you for spending time there, and they feed you. Want to join the meditation retreats they run? Also free. They mention dana, but when and how much are left up to you.

A Vipassana centre in central Spain works along the same lines.

Books? There are many highly respected Theravada scholars who publish their writings on the web, and stipulate that their books are downloadable at no cost because they’re teachings on the Dharma and the Dharma is not a fucking financial transaction. If you want to pay something from what you read, as one monk puts it, then teach someone else what you learned from his books. Spread the message, try and make someone else a bit happier. I almost cried when I read that.

And the outcome? A tremendous sense of relief, and a burst of crazy energy. No more mantras you half-believe in, just meditation every day and as much goodwill as possible for the other poor bastards like you that are trapped on the wheel.

To my mind there’s something deeply immoral about a spiritual tradition reaching the West and screwing people for money.

It also says a lot about the people who are willing to shell out money better spent on other more useful things, like, I don’t know, helping someone else who lucked out in post-modern, post-industrial, AI-driven fantasy land. At the very least it highlights a deep misunderstanding of what the Dharma represents and endeavours to put across. I’m sorry, but that doesn’t work for me. Dana is one thing; highly priced mandatory entrance fees are something else altogether.

There’s still a lot to be done. Many Western Buddhist institutions still have a dreadful track record in reaching out to help those in need, perhaps because so many members have their heads deeply inserted in their arses and confuse non-self and karma with being overgrown selfish babies.

But no one’s to blame. And everyone’s responsible.

 

Tim Cooper is a more or less practicing Buddhist and recovering alcoholic who’s lived in Spain for over half his life. After many years of stumbling about in the lush gardens of Buddhism, picking one flower here and another flower there, he finally settled down and is trying to make sense of it all in the Tibetan Buddhist tradition, and generally trying to be a bit nicer. He works as a translator, teacher and facilitator with fellow ex-drunks. He likes flowers, rugby, bad science fiction films and cooking. He also likes to think he writes like Hemingway, but the rejection slips tell another story.

 

 

Photo: Pixabay

Editor: Dana Gornall

 

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