Bonds of Friendship forged through the Power of Shakabuku

“Faith is inextinguishable hope. The practice of faith is struggling to realize our desires. The basis of this practice is prayer. Through prayer, hope turns into confidence. This spirit of confidence unfolds in three thousand ways, finally resulting in the attainment of our hopes. Therefore, we must never give up. (LG, p.91)”

Esther: When I met Caroline, I felt that something big was going to happen. It did, but not in the way I had expected. At that time my life felt as if it were hitting a brick wall, and it seemed that which ever direction I turned, I always wound up back at the same point: I was going in circles! Not that you’d see this if you were on the outside of my life looking in. I had a nice house, a good business - training and looking after dogs - which I ran together with my partner. We had a two-year-old son, and some really good friends. My life appeared pretty normal, and a far cry from even a couple of years earlier, or so it seemed.

I had a very difficult childhood and a life that was marred by the deaths of four young members of my immediate family. These deaths resulted in a lot of pain, separation and rejection for those left alive, but it also led me to be spiritual from a young age in trying to understand what I now know to be the ‘sufferings of life and death’. I was always asking “why”, and believed that “there must be more to life than this.” Through my questioning mind, I had formed a strong belief in reincarnation and karma, and at the age of twelve, had proclaimed myself a Buddhist.

Unfortunately this was not acceptable to my family, as their idea of karma was an unforgiving, unchangeable state of life, which appeared to be a punishment! So I was perceived as odd and difficult. Soon, I also found myself experimenting with drugs, alcohol and sex. My behaviour became steadily worse, and by the time I was seventeen, my family had given up on me as a “lost cause”. I moved to London to sort myself out, and having been a vegetarian, became a vegan, gave up drugs and alcohol and took up yoga, and began meditating and chanting with a Buddhist nun. That was me then, all or nothing: next I went off on a spiritual pilgrimage to East Asia!

Without going into too much detail, my journey turned out to be somewhat less than cleansing, and I returned after a few years, rather worse for wear. Most of all, my heart was broken as I’d had a relationship with a woman, my first proper relationship, after umming, erring and experimenting with my sexuality for some years.

I returned to England to a “there’s no room at the inn” reception from my family, which whilst it was hurtful, was actually a good thing. Pretty soon, time healed my broken heart, I found a good job working for an animal welfare charity, and room in a shared house. Again though, I got back into being a Party Queen, burning the candle at both ends, and doing lots of drugs and alcohol whilst still professing myself to be a Buddhist and managing to hold down my demanding job!

Time ticked on, until one day another Buddhist moved into the basement of our mad house-share, and I heard her chanting Nam-Myoho-Renge-Kyo twice daily. This was a very surreal time for me as the house was a gay hair salon, with lots of wild parties, and unconventional individuals all around me, but the Buddhist kept on steadfastly chanting below the ‘party’ floors of the house. My aunt had told me about Nam-Myoho-Renge-Kyo when I was four years old, and occasionally, I would ask this new neighbour to tell me something about her practice and SGI, but I wasn’t ready to be a part of it, despite her reassurances.

Times and parties passed, and I found myself pregnant, to everyone’s shock and horror, especially my family’s. But it seemed right to me, and the father and I had been friends for some time, so I stopped taking drugs and alcohol once more, this time for the sake of my ‘fortune baby’. I packed my bags, found a flat with the father of my child, and my life began once more.

When I say that my baby was a fortune child, I don’t mean this flippantly. He was, and still is. I don’t know if I’d have sorted my life out, if it hadn’t been for him, and at twenty four years old, when I became pregnant, the years of abuse were only leading me down a one way street holding a one way ticket. I managed to give birth to Zachary, at home in a water pool, with no pain relieving drugs, despite him being the wrong way round, weighing 10lbs, and despite my having a birth defect affecting my hip and pelvis, which should have meant that I couldn’t even carry a child, let alone give birth to one: the midwife said that it was a miracle!

Even with my new-found joy for my natural life and my son, my relationship with his father was up and down. However, my family thought that “at last” I had settled down. They gave us a deposit for a house, and my son’s father and I moved into a family home. My parent’s new attitude towards me pleased me, but I wasn’t happy. Then Zac’s father and I met Caroline.

Caroline: I met Esther because my husband and I had rescued a dog from Battersea Dogs Home. This dog, Barney, had been returned to the home three times because he needed a great deal of training and attention. We asked about a trainer through our vet, and Esther and her partner were recommended to us. Esther told me that she was a Buddhist, but when I asked what type of Buddhism she practised, she replied “Tibetan.” I told her about Nam-Myoho-Renge-Kyo and explained the basic differences between our practice and that of other schools, and she expressed an interest in coming to the General Meeting as my guest.

Esther: Caroline encouraged me try chanting instead of meditation, so I did. It had been too difficult for me to say Nam-Myoho-Renge-Kyo before this moment, and yet at this point in my life, it became very clear to me that it was something I must do. I think I was hoping that it would make everything come right, because nothing was, and she had suggested that I chant for “the best possible outcome.” This appealed to me because I didn’t feel that it was right to have a list of desires, and anyway, I didn’t feel that I deserved anything that I wanted: to be happy, successful or ‘sorted’. I joined my local district, but found it difficult, and was not very active. I wasn’t ready to share my life or trust other people. The more I chanted, although it felt like the right thing to be doing, the more unhappy I became. I felt like I was losing my mind, I felt torn and although I no longer knew what I wanted, I knew that I didn’t want my life to stay as it was. In fact, the more I chanted, the more it became clear to me that I my life was something that had just ‘happened’ to me; it had swept me away until I was as far as possible from who I really was. Worst still, I felt that the situation that I had found myself in was not one from which I could escape without hurting everyone in my life. I certainly did not want my son to suffer as I had, growing up not knowing my father. Three generations of my family have grown up in identical circumstances: my mother lost her father at an early age when he committed suicide, and my grandmother lost her family when she was thrown out of home for falling pregnant at fifteen to a black American soldier.

Caroline: Not living close to Esther, I had put her in touch with her own local district. I often asked the district leader how she was getting on, but was told that she wasn’t coming to meetings very often. I called to encourage Esther, but after a few negative responses from her, I felt that my calls were not welcome, and that this was not the right action to take. I decided not to call again for a while, but I kept in touch through other SGI members. Sadly, I soon heard that Esther had stopped going to meetings altogether. I hoped that she had not stopped chanting – her son’s father and I had bought her a butsudan, book and beads for her birthday – and so I decided to chant every day for her happiness.

Esther: I was still chanting, to know my life’s mission. Eventually, the situation at home became intolerable. I was very depressed, and the only time I felt like “me” was when I chanted. I can’t remember when it happened, but a change occurred, and I felt courage within myself. I felt able to take action, and very quickly my circumstances changed. I had become acutely aware that I was gay, and that I had no choice now but to ‘come out’.

Caroline: Esther did take my call on one occasion at this time, and we had a full and frank discussion about a mutual project that we were working on, and that fact that Esther was not happy to go ahead with it.

Esther: My relationship with my son’s father had been platonic in the main, and as I was being given the opportunity to have many difficult conversations at this time, we discussed and agreed, painfully, that we should separate. The reasons given for our separation angered my parents, our house had to be sold, the deposit returned, and my business, which relied on the premises, had to be dissolved.

It was a painful time, but I kept chanting. Zachary and I wound up in a hostel, my own dog had to be re-homed and we could only a few belongings. We took some clothes, Zachary’s toys and my butsudan. I did not have Gohonzon at this time. We lived in one room with bunk beds, no bigger than a cell. Every day I was faced with my butsudan. Once more, I tried to join my local group again, having got a contact through Caroline, but did not feel secure enough about myself to meet new people, and had no support with my young son, as my family had by now disowned me. For nearly two years I struggled in my prison, having contact with no-one, not even Caroline. I found it hard to believe that this was “the best possible outcome.” There were strict house rules in the hostel making any sort of life difficult; and whilst I was having a relationship now, with a woman, there were only brief moments of happiness, as it too, was destructive. Some days I chanted, some not, I was constantly in the ‘lower’ states of life, and I did not know how to change this. I got the point where I despised my empty butusdan, as much as I despised my empty life. Finally, nearing the end of my second year in the hostel, I decided to really challenge the practice and determined to chant every day for two hours for a home of our own, and for my life to have meaning. I wanted to know my mission, and to be happy, and I vowed that when this became manifest, I would work towards getting my Gohonzon and being truly committed to my faith and my practice.

Caroline: At this point I hadn’t had any contact with Esther for two years, but had kept chanting for her happiness every single day. I have to admit though, that I had assumed that she must have stopped practicing and didn’t expect to hear from her ever again.

Esther: Within two weeks of my determination I found myself at University, enrolling on a teaching degree, and within a month Zachary and I were housed in our own little flat. Finally, my family and I were in contact and making big steps towards accepting each other for who were really were, without ‘terms and conditions.” Most of all, I was happy and I realised that my experiences over the past two years had been necessary in order for me to be where I am now. It is exactly where I wanted to be, and is indeed the “best possible outcome.” Finally, I contacted Caroline after all that time, and she once again, put me in touch with my local group – the third one as I had moved around so much. I found it a challenge to go to meetings, but I have been very active, and received Gohonzon last year, Caroline came to my ceremony! I have such a huge amount of gratitude towards this practice and the friendships I have now. Although Caroline and I didn’t speak for a long time, and don’t get to see each other very often even now, we are very close, and remain really good friends.

I am now a very secure, proud, gay parent. My life has found a balance, filled with friends, both Buddhist and non-Buddhist who support and encourage me. My family and I are closer and more honest than we have ever been, and I am succeeding towards my mission of becoming a special needs teacher, despite being dyslexic myself. I have a lovely home, have been drug-free for a number of years, and have a healthy relationship with alcohol! I take great pleasure in all the activities in which I participate, especially the Buddhist ones, and actively seek to create peace through the propagation of this practice. So does my son, Zachary. He is now five years old, and recently took his book and beads to school for a ‘show and tell’, telling his class that he is a Buddhist and that he chants Nam-Myoho-Renge-Kyo. I have met someone to move forward with, who is broad-minded and supportive, and I have learned to trust myself, and by doing so, can trust those around me. When obstacles arise, I do not run and hide or only do what is best for others, I embrace them knowing that only good will follow and that is an opportunity to turn poison into medicine. Thank you Caroline.

Caroline: I too, owe an immense debt of gratitude to my wonderful friend, Esther. She is actual proof for me of the validity of this practice, the power of my daimoku, and of how essential it is to shakabuku in order to enable yourself and others to become happy.
Whenever I doubt whether my prayers will be answered, I think of her, and of all she’s been through, and of the all changes that our faith has made in both our lives… I am humbled by her experience, and proud to think that I played even a small part in her journey. Due to this experience, from the moment that I introduce anyone to the practice, I put my desire for their complete happiness into my daimoku, and trust that Gohonzon is taking them in that direction, even if I don’t know where they are in the world. In my own experience, people come to this practice in their own time, and pushing them doesn’t make them chant sooner, no matter what we say. I also trust that once they have chanted Nam-Myoho-Renge-Kyo, the seed is sown for our eternal friendship to begin.