Strange Principle: My Life

I come from a family of very humble people- the kind of humbleness that is part true humbleness and part fear. I was raised to never brag, to work hard but doubt myself, to be passive in the name of 'going with the flow'.

These values were never overtly spoken, but modeled every day in both my parents. The rationalization was that stating what you wanted and go for it was egocentric, aggressive, too bold.

I come from people who work hard, who get up early on Sundays to go to church and run Sunday School classes, who volunteer blood, sweat and tears to causes that inevitably don't show appreciation back, and who suffer and bide their time, waiting for life's rewards. This is a problem with people around the world, especially with women, and particularly with my family.

I always said, though, I'd rather be humble and not ask for what I want that be a 'bad person' who is selfish.


What I didn't realize is that those aren't our only two options.


When I was 23 I took on leadership roles in the Soka Gakkai that put about six young women under my care. I had what appeared to be a strong practice and lots of faith and determination, but the truth was that I was very unhappy and hoping that I would somehow 'win' happiness by taking care of others. Of course, taking care of others is wonderful, but I did so to the detriment of taking care of my own needs. Eventually I exhausted myself and completely fell out of activities for a year and half, questioning not just my leadership role, but my entire belief in this practice. I had been doing what the gosho warns us again and again not to do—I was placing the law outside myself.


And what I also didn't realize is although I'm not a Christian, I was practicing a Christian-Buddhism, in which by being 'selfless' and by suffering I was somehow cleansing my life, earning my future happiness. Through much sadness, struggle, and daimoku I came to the realization that I don't 'earn' my happiness.

Over the past year, I have regained a profoundly stronger practice and faith, and I feel my greatest lesson was learning to listen to myself and trust my life. If I feel deeply compelled to do something, I do it, if I don't, I don't. I try not to allow myself to be swayed by what other people want or seem to want from me- and no matter what, I try not to place any head above my own.

The beautiful irony of this type of self-reliant practice is that by having great esteem for myself, I can interact with others without having to place them above or below me—I feel secure enough to just be and let others be. I have so much less anxiety than I used to. And I no longer fret over being the perfect Buddhist—I just observe my mind when it becomes agitated and go to the gohonzon—reiterating again and again that, no matter what, my life is 100% respect-worthy.