If I'm ever asked about my religion, I usually say I'm an atheist. If pushed, I might qualify that by saying I'm a Buddhist atheist, or maybe even an atheist Buddhist. Not that I believe in reincarnation, or like the idea of prostrating myself in front of shrines, or want to change my name to some unpronounceable Sanskrit word and wear floaty gowns. But then I don't think the Buddha would have approved of such ostentatious behaviour either.
What draws me to Buddhism are the core ethics, beautifully summed up in Chris Pauling's slim, 68-page book Introducing Buddhism. The chapter on Ethics (just 20 pages!) is as perfect a manifesto for living as I've come across anywhere. Which is why I gave a copy to both my 'big kids' for their 18th birthdays - knowing that even if they didn't read it now, they might pick it up in years to come and find some guidance.
The genius of Buddhism is that it appeals to both sides of ourselves: the selfish and the selfless (or the ego and the superego, if you like). There are some very high principles indeed (do not steal, do not lie, do not be unfaithful, etc), but these are offered not simply as some altruistic moral code that we have to follow to be 'good' and not to 'sin', but as ways to be true to ourselves and therefore, ultimately, to help ourselves. In fact, there's no such thing as 'good' and 'bad' in Buddhism, only 'skilful' and 'unskilful' - in other words, actions that will help us in our path to Enlightenment and actions that won't.
And that's it. None of that sinning, guilt-ridden heavy shit that so many religions burden their followers with. It's your life: you chose how to behave and do whatever you can within the limits of your capabilities. No-one will judge you for it. Which is why a lot of Buddhist doctrine is repackaged and sold as self-help manuals in the West.
What has all this got to do with raising kids? Well, as I mentioned, there are a number of key precepts which form the basis of Buddhist ethics. (Traditionally, these are given as negatives, although the positive implications are at least as important.) Most of these precepts, I can read and believe I'm abiding by them as best I can. So when it says, 'To refrain from untruthfulness', I believe that I generally don't lie and that I try to be as truthful to myself and my beliefs as I can be. When it says, 'To refrain from taking anything which is not freely given', I believe that I generally don't steal and am generous and helpful to others when I can be.
But the precept that always stops me in my tracks is, 'To refrain from causing harm to other living beings'. This is the basis of all 'green' thinking: to cause as little damage to the planet and the creatures which live on it as possible. That's the reason I'm vegetarian, why I recycle as much as possible, why I buy organic whenever I can, why I feel tortured by owning a car, etc, etc. In my day-to-day life, I work hard to 'refrain from causing harm to other living beings'. Ok, I make compromises (I own a car, I fly), but they are carefully considered compromises which I feel are necessary in my current situation.
The sting in the tail of this precept is that it applies to how we earn our living too. So there's the obvious things: don't work for the armaments industry, or the armed forces - and certainly don't become a butcher. But there's more. As Pauling puts it: "At a more subtle level it might also raise doubts about forms of work that cause less obvious suffering, or cause harm on a more spiritual level - for example by promoting useless craving, as might be the case with work in the advertising industry, or industries that produce unnecessary luxury goods."
When I first read this, I went into a blind panic. My work as a writer/photographer specialising in sailing doesn't do any obvious harm, but then again neither does it do much obvious good. You could argue it encourages people to get away from the rat race and get closer to nature, but there is also an undeniable consumerist aspect to sailing which is anything but sustainable. And churning out more yet books and magazines about anything can only have a negative impact on the environment.
I'd like to say I've found a solution to this conundrum, and I have tried several times to redirect my life towards a more ethical way of making a living (I got a job on a local community paper, took an MA in Global Political Economy, and currently work on the local Green Party newspaper). But, at the end of the day, I have a family to support and a mortgage to pay, and so I keep returning to the work I know best: writing about and photographing boats.
But there is another way I've reconciled myself to this part of the precept. While my work may not be the most ethical, by giving myself fully to my children's upbringing and helping them to lead an 'ethical' life, I feel I have to a some extent compensated for my failures elsewhere. And, when time and finances allow, I hope to put my work on a more ethical course. Writing this column is a step in that direction.
Recommended reading
Introducing Buddhism, by Chris Pauling, pub Windhorse
Buddhism Without Beliefs: A Contemporary Guide to Awakening, by Stephen Batchelor, pub Bloomsbury
Confession of a Buddhist Atheist, by Stephen Batchelor, pub Spiegel & Grau