Last month my newsletter contained an item on the so called Valley of the Buddhas in Afghanistan. The Ghorband valley of Bamian Province contains two of the largest Buddha Images in the world. Dating back to the third or fourth century CE, they're carved into a cliff-face honeycombed with passages and caves in which at one time, long ago, Buddhist monks used to live. This maze of caves and tunnels is crammed with Buddhist carvings and paintings. At a 180 feet high, the larger of the two Buddha images (pictured in 1971) now has an unexploded rocket-propelled grenade embedded in its chest. Back in April the Taliban were poised to capture this region and a senior Taliban commander reportedly told journalists that these images were un-Islamic and that they would therefore be dynamited. Apart from their religious significance they are of archaeological and historical importance and unsurprisingly this announcement introduced an otherwise remote valley to newspaper readers around the world and provoked an international outcry that resulted in the Taliban high-command issuing assurances that these images were of no interest to them and that they would be preserved.
As a result of printing that item I had a couple of very interesting letters. One, complete with photographs, was from an elegant, Buddhist lady who had introduced herself to me some years ago when we were crossing the Solent aboard the same Isle of Wight ferry. Unbeknown to either of us until now, we were both in Kabul in 1971 at about the same time but unlike me, Phyllis did get to see the Buddhas of Bamian. She also sent me an account, extracted from an article she had written, of her adventures: "I must explain that I started off on this jaunt with several misgivings. We had been told to pack an overnight bag and be prepared to sleep in a Yurt! We were travelling in two powerful coaches capable of coping with almost vertical upgrades and downgrades with hairpin bends as sharp as any in Switzerland (except there was no protection from sheer drops), driving over boulders and even, with the help of we passengers, getting over a small stream where the bridge had disappeared! We climbed up to the highest point to the Hojigak Pass, 11,000 feet. Soon we saw the jagged, fantastically shaped peaks of the Red Mountains rising on either side, quite impossible to describe. And so, in the late afternoon, somewhat tired, we approached Bamian through an avenue of dust-laden poplars. Our view opened out into a wide, peaceful, fertile valley. It was cool and the wind had dropped. … During the night I had been disturbed by a series of loud shouts; I learnt they meant, 'watch out! watch out!', which are called each night to protect the valley. After breakfast we drove down to visit the two Buddha figures. The smaller one, about 125 feet high, was obscured by scaffolding as it was being restored, but the larger figure was truly magnificent. On either side along the valley was a series of caves, some still with frescoes on the walls, in which thousands of monks once lived. Most exciting for me was when I climbed to the top of the larger figure. This was done by going up a steep path leading into a cave, thence up some very steep, rough steps inside the mountainside, passing openings as windows for light, until I came to an opening showing the shoulder of the figure; but to get to the opening behind the head I had to feel my way along a dark, narrow passage which led round to the right to a hole - and daylight and to a sheer drop of 175 feet below! It was strange looking directly down onto the heads of the party below. It could have been possible to climb on to the head of the figure, but in the Buddhist world this would have been considered a sacrilege."
The other was from a chap in Bristol who I don't think I've ever met but who receives my newsletter and who was in Afghanistan in 1970, a year before me, with an Oxford University expedition studying the migration of birds. Stuart sent me some interesting slides and his letter contained the following: "We were sitting in a chai house at the base of the Buddha and an Afghan led us up the cliff face to a door which led around the back of the Buddha's head and came out on top to look over the valley! … I was moved by the Buddhas just standing there, so huge, such a monument to spiritual faith. The Afghans were 'doing them up' at the time as they were opening up the area for the growing tourist and hippy travellers. Many years later I met Buddha-Dharma and am pleased to say that I'm nourished in my daily life by Buddha's teachings."
It seems always to have been the desire of people to preserve what they cherish and identify with as vast, prominent and apparently indestructible monuments. Earlier this year I was pleased to admire (pictured above) a huge, outline engraving in gold of a Buddha-rupa on a scraped mountainside at Sattahip, along the coast to the East of Bangkok. But much as we would like such things to remain for ever, I think, when contemplating these outpourings of faith, old and new, we ought to be conscious of the Buddha's last words: "All compound things are impermanent. Work out your own salvation with diligence!".
I'm sorry if, as we did, you made a special effort to see us on Central TV's 'Heart of the Country' on May 6th, the date they gave us, and instead had to endure something about a family that swapped their urban suffering in Kentish Town for the supposed pastoral perfection of the Forest of Dean - at least the scenery was better, but anyone tempted to follow suite should be reminded that the roots of one's unhappiness lie within and travel with you wherever you go. Like us, I expect you sat there hoping that at any moment this deluded nonsense would give way to some colourful shots of the Forest Hermitage, but it never happened. I discovered afterwards that there had been a last minute switch and we were on the following week. By which time Rosemary had been moved to another part of the ward she was in, conveniently next to the 'tele' and we were able to combine a visit to her with a viewing of our programme.
Yes, that was something else to keep us mindful of Change and Suffering. On the night of May 1st, even as Mr. Blair was sweeping to power, poor Rosemary, who most of you know as one of the pillars of this establishment, was being swept into Warwick Hospital. Since then she's had a pretty major operation and made a good recovery, all the while displaying an exemplary Buddhist attitude.
Another lesson in Impermanence and the Unsatisfactory nature of things has been the very recent loss, especially to the Burmese Buddhist community in this country, of Venerable Sayadaw U Nyanika. A highly respected scholar, he was in his eightieth year and had been suffering from cancer. He passed away just before 4 a.m. on Sunday, June 8th and the funeral, which I attended, was on the following Tuesday at Mortlake Crematorium. Sayadaw U Nyanika came to this country in 1982 and in the early days of our effort to create what has become this hermitage he was a fairly frequent visitor and advised and helped me on numerous occasions. In 1988 he led the declaration of the Maha-Sima or boundary here and later that year organised for his pupil, Ven. U Lokanatha, to come and help me. Since then Ven. U Nyanika has founded the Tisarana Vihara, located first in Wolverhampton and now removed to Twickenham, and the Tisarana Vihara in Perth, Western Australia. I last saw him when I visited him in his monastery in Twickenham just ten days before he died. They say that although he must have been in considerable pain, he remained composed and uncomplaining to the end.
Sayadaw U Nyanika was a friend of another great Burmese
scholar monk, Sayadaw U Thittila, whose biography he had been
writing but was unable to complete. We talked about him during
that last visit and Sayadaw U Nyanika told me then that Ven. U
Thittila had not long ago died. In fact he passed away on January
3rd of this year. Sayadaw U Thittila was a bit older having been
born in 1896! I mention the passing of Ven. Sayadaw U Thittila
because not only did I have the privilege of meeting him, in Rangoon
in 1987, when this picture was taken,
and previously in the UK, but because at one time he was very well-known to British Buddhists having lived and taught in London from 1938 until 1952. He also visited inmates in prison during that time. He was back here in 1964 for two years and then again in 1982 and 1983. When asked the secret of his advanced years and robust health, his prescription for a long and happy life was always: "Don't worry!".
And now for a little news from here. After all the excitement of Songkrahn and the presence of a television crew our next festival day at Wesak or Vesakha Puja was rather more modest. Although the weather had turned wet and uncertain we decided to risk doing without our blow-up tent and instead rearranged the garage yet again to provide a temporary eating hall. We still had quite a good turnout and I was very pleased that as well as all the usual good humour there was time not just for a Dhamma talk but meditation as well. Two days later I went to join inmates at Stocken prison in their celebration and took in with me Saang and Paul bearing trays of Thai food. To my very pleasant surprise the Governor and the Head of Inmate Activities joined us purposely to hear my few words on Loving-kindness and together with the C of E Chaplain, Buddhist and other inmates, including Sikhs, joined in the Metta Bhavana or Loving-Kindness meditation that followed. Afterwards I had to dash back to welcome a party of Race Relations Liaison Officers from a course at the nearby Prison Service Training College. And now it's the turn of the schools with several invitations out and some groups coming here. And so it goes on.
Take care and stay happy.