My Life is My Greatest Treasure
Fern BrownAfter 36 years of practicing Nichiren Buddhism, I can truly say that, at 84 years of age, my life is wonderful. However, this has not always been the case. I grew up in the countryside, a few hours outside Montreal. I was the youngest of five children in a home where there was no love and I was constantly told I was stupid, crazy and ugly. At the age of six, my job was to scrub the floors at home, but whatever I did, it was never good enough. In addition, due to not having enough food to eat, I suffered from poor health including severe asthma and other ailments. My childhood was miserable, and I experienced physical and psychological violence.
At 10 years old, I dropped out of school because it was too far away for me to walk to. I began working to help support my family, often up to 30 hours a week. I was eventually employed by two women who were very resourceful and opened their own restaurant. I worked hard in the kitchen and they were good to me. One of them would often say she "saw something" in me. She would teach me about life, saying: "I know you will understand." I received my first-ever Christmas gift from her: a pair of gloves.
However, over the years, my job situation was a constant challenge. From the age of 19, I had a string of waitressing jobs and struggled with feeling inferior to everyone and having no self-esteem. I moved to Montreal, and then to Los Angeles. I thought that by moving to California I could start a new life and leave my past behind. But my problems were quick to follow me. Nothing changed until years later when I started practicing Buddhism.
Over the years, I overcame a severe case of tuberculosis, but I still didn't know how to fundamentally change my situation. At 47 it was hard to find good waitressing jobs, and my luck dried up. My life was like a black hole with no future ahead. I had married, and then separated from, a man who was an alcoholic. For the second time in my life, as I could see no other alternative, I contemplated suicide. This time, I had a foolproof plan and had chosen the date, a specific Monday in April. Then, the Sunday before I was going to kill myself, a customer invited me to a Buddhist meeting due to be held the following Wednesday. A few years earlier, I had read an article on Buddhism and was curious. I remember telling myself dryly: "I can postpone my plans for a couple of days. It won't kill me!"
Those who believe in the Lotus Sutra are as if in winter, but winter always turns to spring.
I found the atmosphere at the meeting natural and friendly. As soon as I saw the Gohonzon, I knew this Buddhism was what I'd been looking for. I just knew. I chanted Nam-myoho-renge-kyo right away and even tried to join the recitation of parts of the Lotus Sutra. After that first meeting I wanted to attend meetings regularly but I was living nearly 20 miles away from the meeting place in Culver City and my only means of transportation was a broken-down car. After two months of chanting for another car, even though I had no credit card and no job, I was able to get a brand new one thanks to the resourcefulness of a good salesman. Soon after that I got another waitressing job. Most importantly, I kept that job for quite a while.
I will never forget the SGI members in Culver City because, for the first time in my life, I felt I had a caring "family." My life, however, didn't change overnight. I spent a lot of time chanting. At first it seemed that the more I chanted, the worse things became. However, Nichiren's words: "Those who believe in the Lotus Sutra are as if in winter, but winter always turns to spring" always inspired hope in me.
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In 1978, I moved to northern California and started to hold Buddhist meetings at my home. The main focus was chanting, studying Buddhism and sharing our practice with others. I could gradually feel myself becoming happier and knew that for the first time I was building a steady foundation for my life.
Fourteen years ago, at the age of 70, I decided to return to Canada after an absence of more than three decades and so I packed up my belongings, rented a truck and drove across the USA with my dog as a companion. I immediately contacted my fellow SGI members when I arrived in Montreal, where I have been practising ever since.
There may be a retirement age at work, but there is no retirement age in life. How then could there be any retirement age in the world of faith?
If people are having difficulties, I know chanting can help them. Since I started chanting, I am able to forge genuine connections with people. I now feel so different from the shy, alienated child and young woman I used to be.
Between the ages of 74 and 80, I was a social activist for pedestrian rights. After one of my neighbors was killed crossing a crosswalk on a green light, I decided I had to take action. I started a petition and collected some 1,000 signatures calling for the reduction of speed limits and a crackdown on traffic violations in my local borough. One newspaper reporter published my comment: "People get killed by cars and it's considered an accident. I think it's criminal." It took courage to speak out in public, be interviewed by the media and take part in council meetings at City Hall. Without my Buddhist practice, I never would have done it.
My life has changed so much during 36 years of Buddhist practice. Now, when someone does something to me that I don't like, instead of churning up inside, I go to the Gohonzon and chant. The writings of Daisaku Ikeda, the president of SGI, encourage me all the time. Now also in his 80s, he is an extraordinary person.
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[Adapted from the July 2012 issue of Soka, SGI-Canada; photo courtesy of SGI-Canada]
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