A review by Madhuri of Tim Ward’s book. “The book is so much fun… his arguments are sometimes rebellious in a valuably-refreshing way.”
What the Buddha Never Taught
by Tim Ward
Somerville House Publishing, Toronto, 1998
311 pages
A 25-year-old Canadian enters a Buddhist Wat, or monastery, which is particularly known for its strictness, its “letter of the law” directly from the ancient scriptures. Location: a jungle in northern Thailand, not far from the border to Laos. The emphasis is on following the lengthy list of rules: no killing (a mosquito which is already drinking your blood must be allowed to finish. You can’t swat it). No dancing, singing, or music; no erotic thoughts or acts (wet dreams are okay, since they are involuntary). One meal a day, provided by local villagers (meat is okay as long as it was killed by Muslims). (And cocoa, chocolate, coffee, and candy are fine any time as they are not considered foods, as long as they don’t have milk in them. It’s fine if the coffee or cocoa have Coffeemate in them instead.) Lots of obligatory bowing in prescribed ways to certain higher-up people. And no gossiping (This one gets roundly broken. Most of the foreign laymen and novices talk the ears off each other.) There are no enlightening or entertaining discourses – just work, chanting, and meditation – though the Ahchan, or head monk, occasionally gives a reluctant talk, mostly just saying that he doesn’t have much to say; just follow the rules, that’ll ultimately help you more than anything.
It’s quite a funny book, because the author is raw and honest, and he just puts everything in his account – scorpions, cobras, spiders, mosquitoes, red ants, people who are obnoxious, people who are clueless, people who are happy. He reports every conversation he has – much of the talk being rambling and tortured theological speculation – and lots about his inner conversations too. I felt annoyed by a few grammatical errors and typos but otherwise enjoyed the book – the style is spare, immediate, fresh. Not much happens, but we don’t mind because it’s all quite interesting for some reason, all these males together hassling about spiritual transcendence, and being oh-so-human too. Amidst the scorpions, centipedes, etc.
The book is number 1 in a trilogy, and I liked it well enough to try to find the other 2 volumes (one of them is about Tantra, which can only be an improvement I think!)
Osho is mentioned once:
‘Rajneesh is the one who’s big on sex, isn’t he?’ said Percy, bursting in on the conversation with zeal.
‘What?’ I said.
‘He’s a Hindu. He has an ashram in Poona, only now he’s not there, you know.’
This bit of information hung in the air like a bad smell. Richard and I stared at the Englishman who had derailed our conversation. I was unable to speak.
‘I have a friend in Brighton who is frightfully keen on Rajneesh.’
‘That’s nice,’ said my voice. I winced at the escaping sarcasm.
This reminded me of something: I was recently in Costa Rica, and in a coffee-shop the checkout guy had a really expert tattoo on his arm, of a tall sort of sitting Buddha (rippling with the muscles of the arm) with a really remote expression on its face – very artfully done. I admired it, and the young man said, “Do you know who that is?”
I didn’t say anything – it was Buddha of course, but why was he asking? Was it in doubt?
“That’s Buddha,” offered the young man. “Ever heard of him?”
I nodded.
“He’s a Hindu – I don’t believe in that stuff, but I just liked his picture.”
I think what I liked best in the book were the descriptions of the author’s various fellow inmates, and the conversations (and the red ants, scorpions, centipedes etc – and what I liked best about them was that they were not in my house). The author studied philosophy at University in Vancouver and can be quite determinedly and piercingly spiritual-debate-happy, but we forgive him because the rest of the book is so much fun, and because his arguments are sometimes rebellious in a valuably-refreshing way.
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