In the mid-15th century, Cape Bojador remained the southernmost point that Portuguese explorers were willing to voyage. What lay beyond the cape was the province of superstition: boiling waters, sea monsters, the end of the earth. Such were the tales that seafarers coined the waters the Sea of Darkness, the point of no return.

Prince Henry, the fourth child of the Portuguese king, believed that finding a sea route to the East would open up vast possibilities for the country and, thus, spent his personal wealth training navigators. He urged them to cast aside superstitions and travel beyond the cape until one attendant, Gil Eannes, succeeded in 1434.

The country was still far from discovering a route to the east, to pioneering the Great Age of Discovery, yet his accomplishment represented an inflection point.

Ikeda Sensei, while in Portugal in October 1965, said of Eannes:

He had revealed that the much-feared Sea of Darkness beyond Cape Bojador was actually no different than the rest of the ocean, thus dispelling the dark cloud of superstition in people’s minds. Indeed, the Sea of Darkness existed only in the mind. With the rudder of courage, Eannes succeeded in sailing beyond his own personal “cape of fears.”^[1]

We all have a “cape of fears,” so to speak, something that prevents us from confronting our most difficult challenges and accomplishing our dreams. Boldly sailing past it is the purpose of Buddhist practice. What’s more, it can be said that our effort to advance kosen-rufu, and create a more just and peaceful society, is a task reserved for the courageous. So, what holds us back? In this issue, we look at the Buddhist perspective on overcoming fear.

First, decide to win!

Throughout human evolution, fear has served a vital function, protecting people from legitimate threats to survival. Today we may not typically face daily life-or-death situations, yet some 60% of adults report having at least one unreasonable fear.^[2]

In The Treatise on the Great Perfection of Wisdom, fear is described as the sixth of the “ten kinds of troops,” ten types of hindrances to Buddhist practice that sway us in varied and subtle ways. For that reason, surmounting our fears requires courageous faith aimed first at breaking through within.

In volume 3 of The New Human Revolution, Sensei explains how India’s struggle for independence began when the people first gained their spiritual independence. He writes:

Above all, Gandhi purged the fear so long ingrained in people’s hearts. When the people stopped being intimidated—when they stood up straight with dignity and pride—the arrogant authorities who tyrannized them would inevitably fall.

Jawaharlal Nehru, the first prime minister of an independent India, asserted that driving fear from people’s hearts had been Gandhi’s “greatest gift” to India.

What is fear? It is but an illusion created by one’s own mind. Cowards tremble with fear at shadows of their own making. “Do not fear!” Shakyamuni Buddha taught long ago. In our own age, Gandhi also called on the people of India to cast aside their fear. They responded by standing up with courage, marking the true dawn of India’s independence.^[3]

When we decide to challenge our preconceived limitations, we set into motion the causes for victory.

‘Victory is guaranteed when we pray with all our might.’

There are times when we may wonder whether it’s possible to break through a specific challenge, but Nichiren Daishonin assures us that prayer based on a vow for kosen-rufu can even move the universe. He writes:

There is nowhere throughout the worlds of the ten directions that the sound of our voices chanting daimoku [Nam-myoho-renge-kyo] does not reach. Our voices may be small, but when we intone the powerful sound of daimoku, there is no place in the entire major world system that they do not penetrate.^[4]

Speaking of this passage, Sensei explains that our prayers won’t be fulfilled if we just chant without any real focus or determination. What’s important is to strive to chant wholeheartedly and challenge ourselves more than anyone in faith, using courage and perseverance as our guides. He writes:

By praying before the Gohonzon, we activate the benevolent deities—the protective functions of the universe. From the perspective of Buddhism, the law of cause and effect ensures that the moment we pray, we create a cause for our victory, for our prayers to be answered.

But this is not perceptible to us as ordinary people, and as a result we may have doubts and worries about whether our prayers will in fact be answered. Prayer is an ongoing battle against fundamental ignorance, the ultimate form of delusion. Faith means having complete conviction in the indisputable law of life, even though we may not be able to perceive it directly. By chanting Nam-myoho-renge-kyo, employing the “strategy of the Lotus Sutra,”^[5] we can conquer fundamental ignorance.

If we forget about prayer and only pursue strategies or methods, we are very likely to find ourselves going in circles. Supreme victory is guaranteed when we pray with all our might as practitioners of the Lotus Sutra.^[6]

Spreading the Mystic Law is the quickest way to overcome our limitations.

Mahayana Buddhism sets forth the ideal of the bodhisattva who seeks enlightenment for both self and others, even postponing one’s own enlightenment to lead others to that goal. Shakyamuni describes these bodhisattvas as “firm in will, in no way timid or immature. For immeasurable kalpas they have been practicing the bodhisattva way. They are clever at difficult questions and answers, their minds know no fear.^[7]

When we engage in this essential practice for “self and others” by sharing Buddhism with those around us, we chip away at our lesser self, concerned with only our own salvation, and foster a fearless and compassionate spirit.

The more we engage in this bodhisattva practice of supreme respect for others, the more our lives come to shine with happiness and dignity. Sensei says of this process:

[Sharing Buddhism] is … a struggle to break down the icy walls of darkness or ignorance in our own lives, which take the form of apathy, passivity and other negative emotions.

When we talk with others about Buddhism, we are actually grappling with our own ignorance and earthly desires. That’s why it gives us the strength to surmount our own problems, enabling us to solidly transform our state of life and change our karma.

In that sense, sharing Buddhism comes down to overcoming our own cowardice, laziness and delusion, thus enabling us to dispel the darkness or ignorance in our own lives and in the lives of others.^[8]

As Bodhisattvas of the Earth, sharing the Mystic Law represents the ultimate form of courage. Sensei explains:

“Fearlessness” means to expound the Law bravely and without fear. It indicates the Buddha’s unshakable self-confidence in expounding the Law.^[9]

Speaking to others about our ideals can be difficult. We not only make ourselves vulnerable to having our deeply cherished beliefs challenged by others but we have no way to predict how people will respond.

Regardless of the reaction, that person before us will benefit greatly from hearing the name of the Mystic Law, and we, in turn, will have strengthened our own confidence in our Buddha nature.

Planting seeds of the Mystic Law, sharing Buddhism with others, enables us to become bodhisattvas whose “minds know no fear.”

United with a great mentor, we become courageous lions.

When we think of our own “cape of fears,” it becomes all the more important to not only develop a fearless spirit but to sustain it, given life’s stormy seas. In volume 6 of The New Human Revolution, Shin’ichi Yamamoto (Ikeda Sensei’s character in the novel) shares the source of his fearlessness as he journeys throughout the world to make the humanistic principles of Buddhism accessible to all:

Whenever Shin’ichi thought of his mentor, he felt tremendous courage and energy well up within him, and he knew he could withstand any hardship. No matter how determined we are to live according to the highest ideals, it is easy to be defeated by the fear or doubt, complacence or arrogance arising in our minds. That is why the Daishonin admonishes us, “Become the master of your mind rather than let your mind master you” (“Reply to the Lay Priest Soya,” WND-1, 486). As long as we are able to keep the example of our mentor alive in our hearts, we can triumph over our personal weaknesses.^[10]

When we unite in spirit with the mentors of Soka, sharing the same goal to advance kosen-rufu for the happiness of humanity, we foster a fearless self that can remain undefeated by life’s crushing blows.

In a February 2018 message, Sensei called on the SGI-USA youth to forge on as one, with the same invincible spirit of the lion king:

Lions never succumb nor do they ever retreat. Lions leap ahead, roar, battle and win without fail.^[11]

When we decide to win, chant courageous daimoku based on a vow and teach the Mystic Law to others, firmly rooted in the shared vow of mentor and disciple, we not only become fearless explorers of life but also light a bright path for all other navigators to come.

—Prepared by the Living Buddhism staff

Living Buddhism: Thank you for speaking with us, Brian. Earlier this year, you completed a novel instrument, the EV2, an electronic stringed instrument that placed in the semi-
finals of the Guthman Musical Instrument Competition, one of the foremost worldwide. We understand that you built it amid an onslaught of personal hardships. What was going on for you in the years leading up to its completion?

Brian Lindgren: To be a musician in New York is to struggle. But in 2018, several events conspired to give me serious trouble. I was out of work, and my financial resources dried up. At the same time, my landlord barred subletting, which effectively doubled my rent. I scrambled to get by. As it happened, my former roommates had left behind a hodgepodge assortment of dried goods with which I improvised recipes, postponing for as long as possible my next grocery trip. I sold off everything I didn’t need, suspended my internet service and stopped riding the subway, getting around the city on an old bicycle on loan from a friend.

It was hard going. Mining old email exchanges between myself and former employers, I eventually drummed up freelance jobs and was almost able to make ends meet. In March, I applied to every grocery store within biking distance from my apartment and was turned down by each one. I can’t even compete for an entry-level job, I thought. How am I ever going to stabilize my financial situation?

In April 2019, I finally secured a job at a grocery store and was deeply appreciative as my situation stabilized. Having put out one fire: the pending disaster of eviction, I’d lit another: working freelance and a regular job, I now had no time to compose music, my main passion.

What did you do?

Brian: Through chanting, I realized that these hardships were part of my mission, and that this was precisely the time to fight my hardest and score a significant victory for my life. For months, I’d been chanting fighting daimoku, raising my life condition to meet the day-to-day problems of food and rent. I was more determined than ever to find a path to achieve my aspirations as a musician and never again be in dire financial straits. Now, however, I reflected on the deep training I had received in my years in the youth division. Since my teens, I had striven single-mindedly to develop a career as a musician, and this was the time to hold on to my dream tighter than ever and continue making causes. While engaging in SGI activities as a district men’s leader, I began applying to master’s programs in music composition.

In March 2019, I was accepted to the Sonic Arts program at Brooklyn College, where I began my first semester that August.

Is this when you started building the EV2?

Brian: That’s right. In college, I had come up with an idea for a novel electronic viola, and had created a prototype. After graduating, however, I shelved it, pursuing other paths in the music industry. Now, chanting abundant daimoku to make the most out of each day, I chose to realize this idea from years earlier as the final project in one of my classes. For the next three semesters, I worked with that professor side by side to realize the EV2 as my final capstone project. This was a daunting challenge as I was already overloaded; taking classes, freelancing, doing a work-study and SGI activities. To complete an instrument on top of this was truly ambitious. But Nichiren Daishonin says, “If in a single moment of life, we exhaust the pains and trials of millions of kalpas, then instant after instant there will arise in us the three Buddha bodies with which we are eternally endowed” (The Record of the Orally Transmitted Teachings, p. 214).

In short, it was not a matter of time but of life state. Making the most of each moment, I could make the impossible possible. By the program’s end, I’d built the instrument to a playable state.

You were in the middle of your second semester when the COVID-19 pandemic struck. What was that like for you?

Brian: Having fought so desperately in the years leading up to the pandemic, I felt I had forged my determination to fight through anything. All the same, in the spring of 2020, New York saw an explosion of COVID-19 deaths. I lived by a hospital; an endless procession of ambulances shuttled in and out of its parking lot, wailing 24/7 in the streets. It was in this deeply disorienting state of affairs that I was asked to record interviews and compose a score for a video commemorating the Soka Gakkai’s founding, November 18. Feeling that, with the devastation brought about by the pandemic, people were in more need than ever of the life-affirming philosophy of Nichiren Buddhism, I poured my heart into this project. In July, I set out with a small crew traveling to Connecticut, Boston, Virginia and Atlanta, to shoot the interviews.

In Boston, I overheard a conversation about prayer. Asked what she was chanting about, the young woman we were interviewing said, “To do my human revolution to change my circumstances.” I was struck by the simplicity and purity of that prayer. Returning from that trip, I began chanting more than ever, focused on that prayer. I worked tirelessly on the film score while meeting with the men of my district over Zoom, offering Ikeda Sensei’s encouragement.

Shortly after, I rode my bike to a friend’s for her birthday. Passing through an intersection, an SUV driving in the opposite direction, without warning or signal, swerved hard, straight toward me, like a homing missile. I smashed into the side of the hood and was sent somersaulting some 20 feet down the road.

When it was clear my spine was unbroken, I was carried out of the street, propped up against a nearby fence and taken to the hospital.

What were your injuries?

Brian: The crash left me with several fractured bones, the most personally significant being my left kneecap and pinky finger. I was immensely protected. That said, I’m an avid long-distance runner and cyclist, and a professional violist. Hearing from the doctor that total recovery was unlikely, long-term consequences were probable and partial recovery extremely arduous, I felt a terror I’d never known.

With intense daimoku and great encouragement from friends in faith, I faced the challenges ahead, undergoing three surgeries, completing the score for the SGI film (I made do without my pinky), beginning the third semester of my master’s program, moving upstate to live with my parents and beginning intense physical rehabilitation.

Each day, hour and moment was an exhausting battle against the devil of illness—the worst of which is the doubt and fear I faced as I fought to regain my physical well-being. The accompanying trauma made even ordinary tasks difficult. My morning daimoku enabled me to fight back against the anguish threatening to drag me down.

What turned things around?

Brian: At a moment of particularly deep despair, I sought guidance from a senior in faith. He shared Sensei’s message to the August 2020 men’s meeting:

To a person battling severe problems, my mentor, second Soka Gakkai President Josei Toda, once said: “As the Daishonin says, in the face of hardship ‘the wise will rejoice while the foolish will retreat’ (“The Three Obstacles and Four Devils,” The Writings of Nichiren Daishonin, vol. 1, p. 637). You mustn’t take the course of the foolish. Use hardship as an opportunity to reflect upon yourself. Practice with strong faith and see what happens. You’ll gain ten times the benefit you have so far!” In this most trying time, please challenge yourselves with joyful enthusiasm and continue to chant resounding and invincible daimoku with the conviction that “no prayer goes unanswered.”

I felt this passage was intended for me personally and determined to fully recover. I would be victorious. Looking beyond my initial recovery as well as my master’s program, I contemplated a variety of professional paths I’d be interested in pursuing. One was to apply for Ph.D. programs in music composition, focusing on electronic music.

Preparing my portfolio and Ph.D. applications was grueling; I was in rehab, about to undergo a third surgery for my finger while striving day after day in the third semester of my master’s program. I was serving as a chapter leader in Brooklyn, leading the 2021 Brooklyn Region Courage Group, a men’s study group, and participating in the men’s division band. It was an all-out battle to make each of the application deadlines, but I did. After completing the fall semester of my master’s degree virtually from my parents’ home, it was time to move back to Brooklyn.

Life was busy, and I forgot about the applications until a professor of one of the schools emailed me asking if I’d heard the good news. I checked my unread emails and found an acceptance offer from the University of Virginia! Included in the offer was a full tuition waiver, generous living stipend, health insurance and funding to attend professional conferences and festivals. For the next five years, I’d be able to focus on creating music, learning and earning a Ph.D. without worrying about my living expenses. Floored, I immediately accepted the offer.

What an incredible victory! What is the central lesson you take with you?

Brian: I’ve spent countless hours reflecting on these words from Josei Toda: “Use hardship as an opportunity to reflect upon yourself.” My many reflections boil down to one: “Never seek this Gohonzon outside yourself. The Gohonzon exists only within the mortal flesh of us ordinary people who embrace the Lotus Sutra and chant Nam-myoho-renge-kyo” (“The Real Aspect of the Gohonzon,” WND-1, p. 831). I discovered that happiness, ability, creativity and all the functions of life that I’ve sought to embody lie within, and that this Buddhism and Sensei’s encouragement are 100% correct in enabling us to navigate all that life throws at us. Going forward, I’m determined to dig even deeper into my practice and ingrain in my heart my bodhisattva vow to fight alongside Sensei as we establish the foundation for kosen-rufu toward 2030 and beyond.

TOKYO, Nov 17, 2022: At the COP27 UN Climate Change Conference in Sharm El Sheikh, Egypt, the Soka Gakkai International (SGI) has promoted youth participation and reforestation and amplified the call for climate justice expressed by faith leaders.

Alexandra Masako Goossens-Ishii, SGI representative to the UN, comments, “Although the loss and damage due to climate change is finally higher on the agenda, deep divisions remain on how to address them. I believe faith communities have a unique moral voice in calling on world leaders to take the decisions needed to move to a just transition for all humanity, while also embodying a resilient spirit, providing community support and moving towards a just transition at the local level.”

To counter youth tokenism, Lucy Plummer of SGI-UK led a November 15 side event that modeled genuine participation and showcased the voices of faith-based youth, mainly from the Global South, who are speaking out about climate-related suffering and leading action by faith groups. David N. Munene of co-organizer CYNESA (Catholic Youth Network for Environmental Sustainability in Africa) stressed that young people of faith can contribute most when they act in solidarity with others, and participants emphasized that the world needs the idealism and positive vision of youth.

On the same day, SGI cosponsored a workshop on REDD+, which aims to reduce emissions from deforestation and conserve forests, together with the International Tropical Timber Organization (ITTO). Cécile Ndjebet of REFACOF, the local partner in a joint Soka Gakkai and ITTO project that supports reforestation efforts by rural women in Togo, highlighted the crucial role of women at the grassroots throughout Africa.

On November 14, Nobuyuki Asai, Executive Director of the Soka Gakkai Peace Committee, joined a panel at the Japan Pavilion on the need to accelerate action toward net zero where members of the Japan Climate Initiative (JCI), a coalition of Japanese non-state actors, shared their efforts to achieve the 1.5°C target, and emphasized the importance of climate justice.

Soka Gakkai members around the world are taking action, convinced that even in the face of the insurmountable odds presented by the climate crisis, every individual’s contribution can lead to positive change. As SGI President Daisaku Ikeda has stated, “When youth stand up in solidarity, confident that they can determine the future, this fresh awareness and momentum will surely become the driving force toward a brighter future.”

The Soka Gakkai is a global community-based Buddhist organization promoting peace, culture and education with 12 million members around the world. The SGI is an NGO in consultative status with the UN ECOSOC since 1983.

On November 13, together with the Donato Sosa International Environment Foundation, SGI-Dominican Republic carried out a youth-led cleanup activity at a local beach in the town of Haina in San Cristóbal Province. Some 1,700 kilograms of trash were collected. 

SGI-USA member Francisco Estrada-Belli, of New Orleans, is a research professor in the Middle American Research Institute at Tulane University. He is known for his expertise in Maya archaeology, remote sensing, geographic information systems and spatial analysis using digital technologies such as LiDAR (light detection and ranging). He is a National Geographic Explorer and has several published works on the Maya civilization. On Nov. 4, he and his team received Tulane University’s 2022 Research, Scholarship and Artistic Achievement Award, an award given to honor outstanding scholars and recognize exceptional research achievement. The World Tribune spoke with him about how his Buddhist practice informs his work.

World Tribune: Thank you for speaking with us. What got you interested in the Maya civilization?

Francisco Estrada-Belli: My mother is Italian, and my father is Guatemalan. I grew up in Italy, but we would often go to Guatemala to visit family. When I was 7, we visited the ancient Maya ruins at Tikal, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Mesmerized, I asked a lot of questions, but no one had any answers. I told my parents during that trip that I wanted to be an archaeologist to study places like Tikal. 

After I completed my education in Italy, I left my family and friends to follow my dreams in Boston, where I attended graduate school. It was there that I finished my Ph.D., got my first job and got married. Then, together with my wife and two children, I moved to New Orleans. 

WT: What happened then?

Estrada-Belli: I didn’t have a full-time job when we first moved. I was teaching as an adjunct professor, but luckily my wife could support the family. I was mostly at home with the kids while my wife was working. 

Then, in 2016, we divorced. This was a difficult time for obvious reasons, and I was incredibly sad about not being with my children. I went from their primary caregiver to a weekend dad.

I moved out and took on odd jobs to make ends meet. I thought my dream and life were over. 

That’s when a friend who lived in my neighborhood shared Buddhism with me. I was invited to a district meeting, and I started chanting Nam-myoho-renge-kyo every morning with these new Buddhist friends.

WT: Did you see any differences when you started chanting?

Estrada-Belli: Many of the things that I chanted for seemed impossible at the time, but things started to change quickly.

I chanted to continue working as an archaeologist, but because I took on other jobs, I no longer had time to do research. 

Soon after I began chanting, I was invited to participate in a large archaeological project that used LiDAR technology—laser-based mapping, that, like an X-ray, can artificially remove and see below the forest canopy—to map a Maya civilization in northern Guatemala. I’ve been an expert in LiDAR technology since I was a student, so I became one of the leaders of this project. I chanted a lot during this time. Our laser scans revealed that Maya cities were much larger than previously thought! The success of the project led to a published article in Science magazine and an opportunity to take part in a popular National Geographic documentary. Then, in 2019, I was offered a full-time job offer at Tulane University.

WT: How have you used your Buddhist practice to face challenges at work?

Estrada-Belli: Buddhism teaches the principle that if there are things that you don’t like about the environment, you need to start changing things within yourself. 

I knew I had an ego. In academia, it’s hard not to have one. In working with a large group of people to get this article published, there were many difficulties in coming to a consensus about anything! 

Whenever my ego gets in the way, it causes problems. I knew that things could go poorly if I did not challenge this. Not overcoming my ego meant not getting our article published or several people losing out. So, I made a determination to do my human revolution first, and I chanted to not let my ego get the best of me for the sake of the project, for everyone involved and for the benefit of science. 

The article was published in September 2018 to great success!

Since then, I’ve been able to keep my ego in check a number of times. It’s still a challenge, but I constantly redirect my attitude at work based on my Buddhist practice.

WT: What does success mean to you?

Estrada-Belli: Absolute success is absolute happiness. 

There are rewards and benefits in life that come in our family and career, for example—getting recognition. But the ultimate success is achieving happiness from within. 

In my district, I feel so much satisfaction in talking to my fellow members and supporting others. I’m very grateful to the SGI for being an incredible network of support for me and to Ikeda Sensei for his mentorship and inspiration. 

WT: What would you say to young people who are just starting out in their careers?

Estrada-Belli: I would tell them to choose something that they really like so that it doesn’t feel like hard work—even though it will be! And, if they want to achieve their dreams, they can, but only by challenging their human revolution and never giving up! 

by Erin Eppsteiner
Northampton, Mass.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been a perfectionist. In high school, for instance, dancing competitively, I expected myself to be not just good but the best, not to take home second place but a flawless victory. The same was true in academics. Of course, nothing ever is perfect. My reality and expectations were always at odds, making me an anxious person.

It was as a first-year pre-med student, taking on the most rigorous workload of my life, that my anxiety reached new heights. As one of 50 students in an intensive program, it became increasingly clear who among us were merely good students and who were resilient human beings. As the year wore on, many of us stooped beneath the weight of endless work. But there was one young man who stood out. Day in and day out, he was upbeat. More than making it through the day, he seemed to actually enjoy his day, the rigor of it, and even, it seemed, wanted us to enjoy it, too. After grimly trudging through my first year, I finally asked him what he was doing.

“Practicing Buddhism!”

I attended my first SGI meeting shortly after, feeling a deep and immediate connection with Nam-myoho-renge-kyo. I received the Gohonzon the following year, on May 3, 2003. One clear and early benefit of my practice was that it allowed me to manage my anxiety, freeing me up to experience deeper joy than I’d ever known. In June 2006, I married that upbeat pre-med student who introduced me to Buddhism, Bobby; and we had two beautiful daughters, Tess and Ruthie, now 9 and 11.

Of course, even major life events do not eradicate deep karma. My anxiety waxed and waned over the years until I recognized it for the deep-seated karmic issue that it was. 

In my work as an OB-GYN, I ensure the safe delivery of babies and the health of their mothers. Normally, the entry room of our home is where Bobby and I, back from a long day at the hospital, drop our clinical responsibilities and brace for the impact of running hugs from our daughters.

When the pandemic hit, however, it became difficult to check tension at the door. No running hugs, no easy transition to family life—Bobby and I came home haggard from augmented workloads, tired from breathing all day through thick KN95s. We first went upstairs to struggle out of our scrubs and shower. Only after could we come down and get on with family life. Even then, I found that much of what had once given me joy—mundane things like playing dress-up with the kids—simply draining. Workload aside, my energy was sapped by constant worries. How can I protect my family from the virus? What if I bring it home? What if the girls fall behind in school? My mind was full of doubts, unknowns and “what ifs.” Underlying all of them was the pressing question: Will I ever overcome this anxiety? At times I’d be struck by an almost debilitating panic.

In February 2020, one month before the declaration of a global pandemic, I accepted women’s leadership for my chapter. When the SGI responded to the pandemic by launching outreach campaigns to stay spiritually and emotionally connected amid physically isolating conditions, I dove in, knowing that supporting others is the fastest way to do my own human revolution.

Supporting one person in particular, a Many Treasures Group member battling illness, significantly shifted my perspective. Her life was not perfect and, to the realist, far more uncertain than my own. Yet her voice rang with a conviction I so rarely grasped. On the porch overlooking her flower garden, I’d read her something from the World Tribune, usually something I myself needed to hear, and she’d chime in, always: “Of course!” and go on to express her conviction that striving alongside Sensei had prolonged her life by many joyful years. Reading Ikeda Sensei’s  guidance with her never failed to rouse my fighting spirit—of course I’d overcome my anxiety. Of course I would!

I’ve come to embrace a different vision of myself, one that is imperfect but resilient.

I sought guidance from a senior in faith. In our conversation, I unburdened myself of all my doubts, namely: “How can I encourage someone when I myself am suffering?” and “If I can’t resolve the issue with prayer, doesn’t this mean my faith is lacking?” She encouraged me to consider what victory over my anxiety would look like and deeply chant to manifest it, using my wisdom to find great physicians to support me. Chanting to the Gohonzon, I imagined the person I wanted to be at work and at home, in my family and the SGI. I engraved the image of this person: someone who laughed freely, who lent strength to others, who was a resilient human being. Chanting in this way, my life opened up. I began to view every cause I made, however small or imperfect, as a cause toward kosen-rufu. For me, there was no magic bullet, no miracle cure. For me, the solution lay in many small causes based on a vow to do my human revolution alongside my mentor. Two years on, I feel happier and stronger than ever.

Recently, my daughter Tess experienced her own anxiety about entering middle school, and Ruthie encountered her first “mean” teacher, and came home discouraged for weeks. Having felt anxiety and discouragement myself, I was able to be there for them in ways I could not have had I lived a perfect life. The same can be said for all my relationships—with my family, with my colleagues, with all the SGI members of my region. I’ve come to embrace a different vision of myself, one that is imperfect but resilient. I won’t be a flawless mother, co-worker or friend. What I’ll be is a disciple who lives with her mentor in her heart, who has no need for flawless victories, because her strength flows from a vow to never give up. 

Rather than being attached to and constrained by your own idealistic standards, you should look hard at reality just as it is. Then try to discover some positive or enjoyable aspects and use them for your own benefit.

Ikeda Sensei  (The New Human Revolution, vol. 6, revised edition, p. 23)

On November 12, the 11th Headquarters Leaders Meeting of the decade toward 2030, the Soka Gakkai’s centennial, was held in Tokyo, Japan, commemorating November 18, Soka Gakkai Founding Day. Soka Gakkai President Minoru Harada stated that in 2023, under its theme “Year of Youth and Triumph,” the Soka Gakkai is committed to treasuring human connections and expanding friendship. Mr. Harada also presented an architectural drawing and gave an overview of the Kansai Ikeda Grand Auditorium (tentative translation), which will be built in Osaka and is slated to be completed in the fall of 2026. The Soka Gakkai will continue to engage in activities to promote the culture of peace and the Sustainable Development Goals, working toward the resolution of global issues.  

The SGI (Soka Gakkai International) co-organized two official side events during the 27th UN Climate Change Conference of the Parties (COP27) held in Sharm El Sheikh, Egypt, from November 6 to 20. On November 15, SGI-UK and the Catholic Youth Network for Environmental Sustainability in Africa co-organized an interfaith event, “Global Interfaith Youth Action on Climate Change: Gather, Discuss, Empower and Act.” On the same day, the International Tropical Timber Organization (ITTO), the Korea Forest Service and the SGI co-organized a side event titled “The Potential of REDD+ as a Cooperative Approach and the Need for Capacity Building.” REDD+ is a framework that guides activities in the forest sector aiming to reduce emissions from deforestation and forest degradation. A reforestation project in Togo that is jointly supported by the ITTO and the Soka Gakkai was highlighted during the event. 

by Barbara Efnor
Los Angeles

I waited expectantly, fuming, for an answer to my question, one of the first I ever put to an SGI leader. I remember the intense, contemplative look on the gentleman’s face as he waited for me to go on. When I didn’t, he cleared his throat. “Erm, why what?”

“Why am I so tall, why are my feet so big?”

He nodded, thinking. “Perhaps,” he ventured, “was your father tall?”

 “Ugh, that’s not what I mean!” I shouted. “I mean why do I feel this way?”

“Ah! Well, the fact that you have this question means that your life contains the answer. Chant Nam-myoho-renge-kyo and the answer will arise, not from someone else, but from your own life.”

This was in the summer of 1967. I’d stumbled on my first Buddhist meeting just a few weeks earlier, on a sunny day in mid-June, with my friend Steve. We’d been driving through a suburb on his little Honda 90 motorbike, when we passed the strangest scene. “Would you look at that,” I muttered. 

“What’s up?” 

“Oil and water, look.”

Across the street, businessmen and hippies, two sorts that, as far as I knew, never mixed, were mixing, jostling through the same front door of a house. A perfect mystery.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” Steve called.

Someone on the curb replied: “A meeting for the Value-Creation Society!” 

“Oh god,” I said. But not Steve. “They seem happy. Let’s check it out.” 

Inside, everyone was chanting to a grapefruit. Or at least it looked that way to me; I sat behind Steve, in such a far corner of the room that I couldn’t see that there was a mandala enshrined within the altar at the front and that the grapefruit was simply an offering for the ceremony. When the daimoku concluded, the person leading turned around and called, “Who wants to try?”

I wasn’t particularly hungry, and thought the whole thing was cuckoo, besides. Not Steve, whose hand shot straight into the air. 

“No!” I hissed. “I’ll buy you a whole bag of grapefruit!”

He looked confused; apparently, from where he sat he could see that we’d been chanting to a mandala.  

“What about you?” someone asked me. 

Looking back, I can say that “pessimist” comes closest to describing me at that time. Back then, though, I prided myself on the term “realist.” I straightened my back.

“You want me to chant words I don’t understand and expect my life to change?” 

Steve had none of my hang-ups; he jumped in with both feet. Dragging mine, I growled that I’d try chanting for 100 days, prove to Steve and all the rest what bologna it was, and quit. But actually, within a month, my co-workers were pestering me about who it was that had me so smitten with life, convinced I’d fallen in love. 

“Nobody!” I fumed, and meant it. No, truth be told it was the daimoku; it was opening up my life in mysterious ways. I found that I was less quick to judge what I didn’t immediately understand. Things that I had always judged about myself—my long legs and huge feet among them—I judged less. I began to suspect that, in the grand scheme of things, they really didn’t loom so large after all. As I continued coming to Buddhist meetings, I felt my life begin to open to new feelings, one of them being a sense of deep connection with Steve. One day, riding the 90 around town, he brought us to a stop at an intersection. “I think I love you,” I said. The words just came flying from my mouth. Steve didn’t say anything, but after that our conversations grew longer, more serious. 

A feeling, fleeting but certain, coursed through me: I’ve known this person for lifetimes.

In November 1967, five months after our first SGI meeting, we were married. Chanting daimoku during the ceremony, a feeling, fleeting but certain, coursed through me: I’ve known this person for lifetimes. Barbara the realist would have scoffed, but I’d begun to accept that life held certain mysteries that were beyond the power of hardheaded reasoning to explain. But life would soon pose a question that seemed to have no answer, that seemed bent on destroying me. 

In 1987, Steve was diagnosed with a terminal illness. He battled the illness for over a decade before taking his life in 1998. I’d lost my best friend and husband. What’s more, we’d just purchased the home we’d rented for 11 years, and I had no way to pay the mortgage on my own. I wanted to crawl under a rock and never come out, but is this what my mentor would do? 

Daimoku was like oxygen for me then. The Gohonzon room that Steve and I had opened for years to the members filled up, wall to wall with those sending daimoku to him and our family. I looked around at the faces of these people, this family, with whom Steve and I had shared so much of our lives, who had shared so much of their lives with us. 

What has brought us together now and over all these years? I thought. And I didn’t have to answer, not with words. The answer was in my daimoku and my daimoku told me: You’ll be with each other again and again and again. 

Looking around me today, I see my beautiful, exceptional children and grandchildren. I look at the work that I do and that I love. I am whole again.

My granddaughter just began practicing Buddhism wholeheartedly. She asks better questions than I did at her age. 

“Grammy, life throws things at you but never knocks you down. How do you do it?” Choosing my words carefully, I told her, “Honey, I chant daimoku!”

As for the young, realist Barbara, interrogating SGI leaders about the size of her feet, I’d answer her question by saying, with deep joy and conviction, “So that you can overcome your suffering and encourage others.”

---

Q: What advice would you give the youth?

Barbara Efnor: Don’t quit. Many times I struggled to chant daimoku, to go to meetings, to see eye to eye with certain people in the organization. That’s only human. But I never gave up. As Nichiren says, “A blue fly, if it clings to the tail of a thoroughbred horse, can travel ten thousand miles” (“On Establishing the Correct Teaching,”The Writings of Nichiren Daishonin, vol. 1, p. 17). Faith is my “thoroughbred horse.”

On November 3 and 4, Soka Gakkai Vice President Hirotsugu Terasaki participated in the “Bahrain Forum for Dialogue: East and West for Human Coexistence.” During the third session, titled “The Role of Religious Leaders and Scholars in Addressing Contemporary Challenges: Climate Change and the Global Food Crisis,” Mr. Terasaki joined a panel discussion and shared a Buddhist perspective on environmental issues, highlighting the importance of trusting human potential to overcome global challenges. On November 4, King Hamad of Bahrain, Sheikh Ahmed Al-Tayyeb and Pope Francis spoke at the closing ceremony.