Book Review: The Accidental Buddhist

As i've said once before i have started taking my spirituality seriously, something i have put off doing for -oh...well...forever. Like most people i have been avoiding spending any time trying to actually understand what it is i believe about the world and my place in it. I have dabbled in this and that pursuit, have acquired a love of gospel music without being a christian, thoroughly appreciate islamic architecture, whatever and so forth. Basically i have been living with what somebody once termed 'the god shaped hole in my heart' for some time while fundamentally ignoring what that means and thinking that through sheer dumb luck mostly i will get through and be happy.



Well. Having acquired some honesty with myself (not an easy thing to do when you are constantly running as fast and as far from that same self as you can, which in my case is not very fast - i'm a lousy runner) I am now feeling that i had better put a shape in that hole, abd it better fit or, or, or...what?



It's the what that this little book tries to answer in it's own quirky little way. The author Dinty W.Moore very early describes his own prolongued struggle trying to jam something in that god shaped hole with little success and much frustration along with a vague sense of discontentment. So what does he do? He reads a book. It just so happens that the book is by a zen master named Thich Nhat Hahn and it sends him on an often funny but always thoughtful quest to find the intersection where Buddhism and American Culture intersect.



This is a book that is about making connections, as all books are to some extent. We all seek to connect ourselves to the world, to our friends, our families, our loved ones, our jobs, but rarely - it seems - to our selves in any real sense. We struggle ceaselessly on, boats against the current, to get through the next day intact, and often we arrive at that unintended destination with a sense of 'how exactly did i get here?' Moore, on his frazzled somewhat quixotic quest brings us into contact with a truly american character, trying to struggle with some fairly unamerican ideas and his trepidations at his own sitting practice and constant ruminations on his 'Monkey Mind' remind us that it isn't easy, but it is human.



What is beautiful about his narration is that it directly addresses aspects of buddhism that tend to pop up in all of our monkey minds at some point. Where do ornate statues of gold buddhas fit into an american life? Are they just a silly artifice? Are they important to our understanding of buddhism because they are an artifice? And whats with all of this sitting anyway? Does a completely eastern religion fit into our devoutly western lifestyles and attitudes? And really who cares?



He also addresses the basic premise of our understanding of buddhism with a hell of a good dose of american witticism: "The problem is clearly inside. My mind is a monkey and the monkey needs Ritalin." Like a bouncing buddha at the bottom of the screen, Moore pops in at dozens of buddhist sanctuaries, retreats, functions, sittings. He sits, and sits, and then sits some more, always wondering, always thinking about these intersections, all the while slowly recognizing himself in what he is learning, slowly shaping his self to fit that god shaped hole in his heart.



It isn't a great book. Moore can be annoyingly flippant at times. His wit is funny but i wouldn't exactly call it sharp - although it cuts pretty well here and there. As a whole, however, it is one of the finest and most accessible books for beginning buddhists in america because it is quintessentially american in its approach. Unlike reading directly from the Dalai Lama or Thich Nhat Hahn - which really aren't terribly inaccesible, Moore definately relates to his audience. He's the Lisa Simpson version of buddhist, capable of quips and humor but struggling with mindfulness in a culture where mindfulness is the spiritual equivalent of worshipping the devil or singing to aliens while brewing up apocalyptic kool aid.



It is the mindfulness of a Lisa Simpson where buddhism collects its american spirit and wanders off in wonderful avenues. At least i think so. We may never have the pleasure of taking long walks among the cherry trees as Basho did (unless we live in DC) but we do have ourselves, this moment, and something very american that can live comfortably and happily within the mindfulness of buddhism.

So before you take my advice and read this book. Sit. Just Sit. Take a half hour or so and get comfortable, stare at a wall, breathe deep and then sit. Try it on. See if it fits. Filling the hole in us is part of the quest of living, get used to it. Enjoy it. When you're done sitting, get up, put on that fedora, get the bullwhip out and go start your quest. There are far worse places to start it than The Accidental Buddhist and you may have to go through them at some point, but why not start it with a fellow traveller whose already tread some of that ground?