Peanut Butter and the Buddha

The only other time I seriously considered converting, it was to Buddhism.

For six months, I went to study with a Japanese Buddhist monk every Sunday. He lived in a small house which doubled as a temple. The living room and dining room areas had been converted into a simple space for meditation and services.

The sub-type of Buddhism was "Nichiren". There are many types of Buddhism, from Zen, which is more of a philosophy than a religion, to types that worship the Buddha as a god. The Nichiren that I learned was mostly focused on clearing one's mind, however there was a large Buddha statue on the alter and we made offerings to him every day.

First, the monk would lead me in chanting and meditation. I was his only new student at the time. I was not yet allowed in the regular services, in case I screwed up the rituals, so I ended up having one-on-one lessons. Yup, just me and the monk. Sometimes it got intense.

I always had a hard time meditating. I tended to drop off to sleep, and then wake with a start as I started to fall over sideways. The monk had his eyes closed, so I don't think he noticed. Lucky for me I wasn't in Japan, where the teachers march between rows of students with a stick, whacking anyone who's looking dozy.

After we completed our practice, we would retire to the kitchen. He made green tea for us and always put out a plate of adorable little Japanese cakes. Before we ate, we had to offer one to the Buddha, by placing it on his plate on the alter. One time I brought some peanut-butter cookies that my mom had baked. I was especially pleased to offer a peanut-butter cookie to the Buddha on behalf of my mom. I told her about it later and she approved.

Funny things stick with me from those lessons, eight years ago. For example, I know you had to remove your shoes and then enter the temple area with the correct foot first, but I can't recall if it's the left or the right.

The monk always offered me a verbal lesson as we drank tea in the kitchen, but all I remember is my shock when I found out he used to be a professional mountain climber/climbing guide in the Himalayas before becoming a monk in Canada. He pronounced it "Himalayers". I gained a new respect for him that day.

I remember the units of cosmic time measurement referred to in the Nichiren teachings. Wikipedia offers an alternate definition , but this is how I was taught to define a kalpa . If you built a castle a hundred miles long, a hundred miles wide, and a hundred miles high; filled it to the brim with poppy seeds; and then removed one poppy seed every hundred thousand years; a kalpa is the length of time it would take to empty the castle.

Buddhism was interesting, and I genuinely desired to attain enlightenment, but somehow it just didn't click for me. I was a rotten meditator, always falling asleep or getting distracted. I found the philosophy gave me a helpful perspective on life, but there wasn't enough of a focus on love to suit my personal taste.

As I got to know the monk, I increasingly saw how he worked to maintain an aura of mystery, but he was really just a regular guy. Once, when the clocks changed for daylight savings time, I showed up an hour early and he answered the door in a grey track suit instead of his usual imposing, black kimono. Another time he bragged to me about how harshly he'd berated one of his advanced students for a supposed disrespect. My perception was that he was just stroking his own ego. I wouldn't have minded him being just a regular guy - it was his efforts to fake me out and impress me that made me cynical.

And so, I gave up going to the temple. I don't regret the experience.

I find there are a lot of valuable truths in the areas where Eastern and Western religions meet and overlap. I've been reading books by Christian authors who express sentiments that would be equally at home in the tradition of Zen Buddhism. It's neat to see how it all fits together.