Connecting to Nichiren’s Heart
By Aparna Menon
Toronto
I started to practise Nichiren Buddhism in 2020 during a period that coincided with my family’s move to Canada. I became a member on January 1, 2021 and was deeply grateful to receive the Gohonzon[1] in May 2022. I have had many profound experiences in faith but would like to focus on the past year of significant personal change.
We all possess our own karma, or set of tendencies in life, both positive and negative. After my son, Vikram, was born four years ago with a complex set of special needs including autism, I have struggled with the karma of fear—fear of the future, fear of our health breaking down, insecurity about the protection our children would have if something were to happen to us, fear of being far away from family, and fear of the way our lives would unfold here. When we moved to Toronto in 2020 from Bahrain, I moved with a mission. I left an established and successful career in technology consulting to restart studies in the areas of childhood autism and health sciences. My husband, who was a corporate banker, moved without a job.
January 2022 marked the start of my husband’s search for a new career in Toronto. Up until that point, my chanting had helped me settle my daughter, Devyani, into a new arts school, access the best support for Vikram and open a new path for my own education at the University of Toronto.
Building on the foundation of our achievements in 2021, we set our goals in January 2022, together with our district members. I wrote down what I thought were three separate determinations:
1) My husband would quickly and easily find his kosen-rufu career
2) I would be successful in one of three funding applications for my PhD work
3) I would be able to overcome one area of fear in my life
In line with the guidance I had received from SGI leaders and the experiences I had heard, I set what I thought was a firm date of March 16, Kosen-rufu Day,[2] for my determinations to be fulfilled. I downloaded an app on my phone and set a goal for myself of chanting more than an hour a day. This was a very difficult period. I was looking at possible schools for my son as he started out on his educational journey. I was also trying to find therapy for him while working and applying for my PhD funding. Then, to top it off, we all came down with COVID-19.
Inevitably, my deep karmic tendencies took over. All sorts of irrational fears surged up. I was chanting more, but I was chanting with fear and not with confidence. However, I was astonished by what happened as a result. Between February 27 and March 16, I received funding offers from not one but all three of my grant applications!
This was wonderful, but none of my other determinations for my partner, nor the ability to conquer my fear, had come through. I sat down in front of the Gohonzon and asked, why? I knew the answer even before it came. The determination that had manifested itself with the utmost ease and abundance was one that was directly and tangibly linked to furthering my mission for kosen-rufu—to do work that would impact the lives of children with disabilities.
I reset a target date of July 3, Mentor and Disciple Day,[3] for achieving my goals. During that period, I tried to do as many SGI activities as I could, and I did them with a sense of opportunity and joy. I shared multiple experiences in faith, I wrote them up when asked, and I worked actively toward our Women’s Group General Meeting in May.
Around this time, I spoke with my close friend in Dubai who had introduced me to the practice. She passed on a piece of simple-sounding advice: “Quantity is great, but quality is better.” Mystically, around the same time, I attended a meeting in Canada where a leader said, “Sometimes you can change your life in one determined act of chanting of Nam-myoho-renge-kyo three times.” At that moment, I realized something fundamental. With all my setting of timers and seeing my daimoku graphs on the app grow satisfyingly, I had forgotten one basic tenet, which was, why do we chant? We chant to become joyful…to feel happy! Of course, I am not advocating chanting just three times a day, nor did my life change in that one moment, but I did stop obsessing over the “hours.”
Going forward, I greeted the Gohonzon with a smile instead of an anxious look. I paid special attention to gongyo.[4] Every time I did gongyo, I thought about President Ikeda’s encouragement that I had read, and I took his words to heart. I really heard every word of my recitation of the Lotus Sutra when I did gongyo. I would visualize the beautiful imagery of the Ceremony in the Air.[5] I would think to myself, even if there are just three minutes in the day when I become part of something bigger than myself, these three minutes are those.
I feel fortunate that I have always really loved reading Nichiren Daishonin’s writings. Almost immediately after I made the shift in my gongyo and chanting, I found a passage of guidance by President Ikeda in which he spoke about reading Nichiren’s words “with our life.” This is what I tried to do. I deeply wanted to feel connected to Nichiren’s heart, and when I expressed and articulated that heartfelt desire to the Gohonzon—it really happened!
Finally, I began grasping the significance of the date of July 3 and the mentor-disciple relationship. Every letter of the Daishonin’s that I read addressed different issues, such as illness, poverty, or the loss of a loved one. But they all had the same underlying thread—how do I encourage this person in front of me? I really wanted to connect to this immense state of compassion that I sensed in Nichiren Daishonin’s writings, and I chanted for that. I cannot adequately describe how profound a shift this was—instead of just respecting and admiring my mentor, I wanted to act like my mentor. I wanted to take care of members, encourage people, and speak to others about this practice. Previously, I had found this very difficult to do for fear of being judged, or because I felt an inherent shrinking from talking about religion.
Slowly, while reading and doing gongyo and chanting in my new way, I realized that I was being pulled into a dimension that was greater than my own little ego. My life, connected to that of my mentor, took on a new size and depth. I had tried to take to heart the teaching about not slandering others, but I realized that I had been slandering someone else who was very important—myself. Of course my mentor hadn’t slandered anyone else, but none of the guidance I read ever showed him slandering himself either. The doubts and lack of confidence and fear within my own life were as slanderous as anything I had ever said or thought about others. With this realization came a greater awareness of the needs of others. Previously, I could easily avoid those considerations because I was almost completely taken up with what I needed to do to manage my own life.
May and June looked very different from January and March. Instead of focusing inward, I started focusing my chanting outward on causes and prayers that were not directly connected to my own wants and desires. Almost without my knowing it, both conspicuous and inconspicuous benefits began to pile up. My husband enrolled in a course at Humber College that really helped him with networking, and as a result, he got multiple interviews. My son was admitted to a great school that was empathetic, and which had fabulous facilities for children with special needs. In addition, I found a naturopath who not only addressed the stress and stress-related health issues I was having, but who also encouraged me to take charge of my health, thereby lessening the fears I felt. Finally, on June 30, just before Mentor and Disciple Day on July 3, my husband received his first job offer. He is now in a frontline client management role in one of Canada’s largest banks!
This passage from President Ikeda's writings expresses everything that I have been trying to articulate:
I'm sure some of you regard expressions such as “not begrudging one’s life” and “dedicating one’s life to Buddhism” as encouraging a sort of self-sacrifice, some kind of tragic self-immolation. But the state of mind underlying the devotion I am talking about is entirely different. It is a state utterly without fear. It is a feeling as expansive and serene as the clear blue sky, a fullness of hope, joy and total satisfaction.
Devotion to the Mystic Law means breaking through your lesser self, the small you that has been driven and hounded by all kinds of petty, selfish wants and desires. It means returning to your greater self, the self that is one with the universe, that is as vast as the cosmos. When you accomplish that, you will shine with your highest human potential. The process by which this comes about is called human revolution. (The New Human Revolution, Vol. 6, pp. 283-84)
Published in June 2023 New Century
[1] Gohonzon: The object of devotion in Nichiren Buddhism. It is the embodiment of the Law of Nam-myoho-renge-kyo, expressing the life state of Buddhahood, which all people inherently possess. Go means “worthy of honour” and honzon means “object of fundamental respect.”
[2] March 16, also known as Kosen-rufu Day, is a symbolic day for SGI members. It commemorates the occasion on March 16, 1958, when Josei Toda, second president of the Soka Gakkai, then in frail health, made an impassioned speech to 6,000 Soka Gakkai youth, entrusting them with the responsibility for the future of the Soka Gakkai and its efforts to contribute to the creation of a peaceful world and promote understanding of the humanistic philosophy of Nichiren Buddhism.
[3] July 3, Day of Mentor and Disciple: On July 3, 1945, second Soka Gakkai president Josei Toda was released from prison after being detained with his mentor, Tsunesaburo Makiguchi, for refusing to submit to the wartime Japanese militarist authorities. When he was released, he vowed to rebuild the Soka Gakkai and realize kosen-rufu—sharing the same spirit as his mentor Tsunesaburo Makiguchi, who died in prison on November 1944. On this same day, 12 years later in 1957, SGI President Daisaku Ikeda was arrested by the authorities in Osaka on false election fraud charges in an attempt to suppress the Soka Gakkai. Then in 1962, Daisaku Ikeda was fully exonerated. The day, July 3, came to symbolize a day when genuine disciples resolutely stand up alone for justice and dedicate themselves anew to the struggle for truth in the same spirit as their mentor.
[4] Gongyo: Literally, to “exert [oneself in] practice.” Generally speaking, gongyo refers to the practice of reciting Buddhist sutras in front of an object of devotion. In Nichiren's (1222-1282) teaching, gongyo means to chant the daimoku of Nam-myoho-renge-kyo and recite portions of the “Expedient Means” (second) chapter and the “Life Span” (sixteenth) chapter of the Lotus Sutra with faith in the object of devotion called the Gohonzon.
[5] Ceremony in the Air: One of the three assemblies described in the Lotus Sutra, in which the entire gathering is suspended in the space above the saha world. It extends from “Emergence of the Treasure Tower,” the 11th chapter, to “Entrustment,” the 22nd chapter. The heart of the ceremony is the revelation of the Buddha’s original enlightenment in the remote past and the transfer of the essence of the sutra to the Bodhisattvas of the Earth, who are led by Bodhisattva Superior Practices. The Ceremony in the Air is not a historical event or a fantastical Buddhist tale. In essence, it can be viewed as a metaphor for the emergence of our innate Buddhahood, the potential in all people to bring forth supreme compassion, courage and wisdom.