04.26.2024 Living Up to the Bodhisattva Vow   The bodhisattva vow is the promise to free all sentient beings from suffering, without exception. Not some, not most — all. It can be a hard task in today’s world. Conflict is happening on every continent, political divides deepen with each election, and then there are those pesky family and work relationships we navigate daily. We’re constantly asked to draw lines in the sand. A friend of mine who endured horrendous office politics said to me, “If my boss was dying in the street, I wouldn’t help him.” They were harsh words, but I understood. In the past, I’ve felt the same about people who hurt me in a variety of ways. But Buddhism has taught me that this kind of sentiment is a poisonous cocktail that I drink myself. The bodhisattva vow to free everyone from suffering includes myself. What suffering am I enduring now? What poisonous cocktail am I mixing? Starting with freeing ourselves doesn’t mean we turn a blind eye to the ills of the world. Rather, we’re asked to look at it — all of it. If the saying “hurt people hurt people” can be true, then so can “free people free people.” If I go to a march, a rally, or a voting booth as a free person, my choices will cause less harm. I worked in the LGBTQ community for decades, where I learned that a free person welcomes straight allies and all the help possible. A suffering person hates straight people and wants nothing to do with them. At Lion’s Roar, I’m currently working on Bodhi Leaves, our new monthly digital publication featuring articles and teachings exploring the Asian American Buddhist experience. Alongside my work in the LGBTQ community, I’ve worked in Asian American spaces for a long time as well, and attachment and aversion are forms of suffering I’ve seen and experienced myself. As a young, self-hating Asian American, I only thought a white man could ever be my boyfriend. Then as I grew more empowered, I went the other direction where I believed that I should only have an Asian boyfriend. Now, having found freedom on the Buddhist path, I only want someone kind and loving. The three pieces below explore the meaning and practice of living the bodhisattva vow. I know it can be hard to think of liberation for all. Perhaps we can start with a smaller grouping, as I suggest in my piece “I Vow to Save Everyone?,” featured on the Bodhi Leaves page. Mu Soeng’s “How Sad is Your Love?” provides insight into the essence of the bodhisattva, and finally, Mushim Patricia Ikeda's “I Vow Not to Burn Out” serves as a gentle reminder that even bodhisattvas require rest. May our commitment to the bodhisattva vow inspire others to join us in spreading compassion and liberation far and wide.   —Noel Alumit, Associate Editor, Lion’s Roar For more stories by and about Asian American Buddhists, sign up for Bodhi Leaves: The Asian American Buddhist Monthly, launching May 1.   I Vow to Save Everyone? Noel Alumit reflects on the daunting commitment of the bodhisattva vows, and how his ordination bolstered his relationship with his mother and culture.   When I was ordained as a Buddhist pastor, I took the bodhisattva vow. The vows begin with: Sentient beings are numberless, I vow to save them all. This was daunting. “I vow to save everyone?” I thought. “Everyone?” I could commit to the other vows: Dharma Gates are endless, I vow to enter them and Enlightenment is impossible, I vow to achieve it. But the vow to save the more than seven billion people on earth seemed over the top. The number rises exponentially if you consider animals “sentient beings,” which I do. “I vow to save them all?” I asked. “Start with a small circle, like your family,” the Abbot advised. ADVERTISEMENT How Sad Is Your Love?   The conventional definitions of “love” and “compassion” are quite limited, says Buddhist scholar Mu Soeng.   A phrase in one of the Korean liturgical chants has always seemed to me to be a gateway to a deeper understanding of compassion in the Buddhist tradition. The chant is called the Morning Bell Chant, and, as the name indicates, it is chanted in early morning hours, at all Korean temples and monasteries. Typically, one of the monks sits by a large hanging bell and hits it at periodic intervals in a prescribed manner. This protocol is followed whether the liturgy is done in the mountains of Korea or in a Los Angeles neighborhood. The monk also chants in a traditional manner and, at periodic and indicated intervals, the congregation joins him in chanting the phrase, Namu Amita Bul, “Homage to Buddha Amitabha.” The Morning Bell Chant is a curious commingling of three disparate Buddhist traditions that are all inherited from China: Huayen, Pure Land, and Zen. In the Morning Bell Chant, elements of these traditions are blended in a single sonic narrative that’s unique to Korean Buddhism. When and why this chant came to be adopted in its present form is a subject of many debates and interpretations among Korean Buddhists.   I Vow Not to Burn Out Mushim Patricia Ikeda says it’s not enough to help others. You have to take care of yourself too. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and his fellow organizers sometimes planned protests to occur at around eleven in the morning, because then the people who were arrested would get lunch in jail and wouldn’t have to wait many hours to eat. For those of you who may feel that social-change work isn’t your thing, or that it’s too big to take on, it may help you, as it helped me, to know that it often comes down to these little details. Every movement is made of real people, and every action is broken down into separate tasks. This is work we need to do and can do together. How can you make your life sustainable—physically, emotionally, financially, intellectually, spiritually? Are you helping create communities rooted in values of sustainability, including environmental and cultural sustainability? Do you feel that you have enough time and space to take in thoughts and images and experiences of things that are joyful and nourishing? What are your resources when you feel isolated or powerless?