I have been fortunate in my life to get to connect with many places across the globe, in part as a result of my work as a climate scientist. India is one of those places and opened my mind to the diversity of life and the innumerable ways of living it.
One of my first trips abroad was in India, doing climate research in the Himalaya, mostly in the Indian state of Himachal Pradesh. While living there, I had my first encounters with Buddhist monks. And to my great confusion, more than a couple were holding smart phones. However, everything else appeared to be “in place”—the traditional crimson and saffron Tibetan robes were present and smooth, freshly shaven heads bobbed throughout the monastery that I found myself in.
Now, having only a little background in Buddhism at the time, most of which had come from Western sources, I remember being quite confused by this—how could a monk have such an “advanced” piece of technology? I stored this information away and made a mental note to remember to ask my good friend Sudha when I arrived back in Delhi. I carried on with my research, collecting my water samples from the lakes I was studying, but often coming back to this perplexing thought as I went about my fieldwork.
Having had a few weeks to process what I had seen, when I arrived back at the lab in Delhi, the question of how monks could own smartphones still stuck with me. I posed this question to my friend Sudha who had an immense amount of patience for what I have to imagine were rather simple questions for her. But she also often seemed amused by my questions and to receive some joy from helping to guide me through a new world and sharing different perspectives.
“Sudha,” I asked, “I don’t understand how monks can have smartphones. Doesn’t that go against Buddhist principles of not owning things?” This idea of a monk giving up their worldly possessions in some grand gesture, renouncing the material world fully, had occupied my mind.
The answer I received is one that I have never forgotten and, amusingly, still feel as if I only barely understand. Not because it is so complex, but quite the opposite. It is a simple answer that I find difficult for a mind steeped in Western perspective like mine to fully grasp.
“There are no limitations to what a monk can possess. They just can’t be attached to it.”
You see, in Buddhism, there are three main universal truths. They are:
- “Everything in life is impermanent and always changing.”
- “Because nothing is permanent, a life based on possessing things or persons doesn’t make you happy.”
- “There is no eternal, unchanging soul and ‘self’ is just a collection of changing characteristics or attributes.”
The second truth is the one most relevant to this deeper understanding of why monks can have cell phones. It is about the concept of attachment. Attachment is the root of our suffering because, as we learn from the first truth, everything is impermanent. When we hold onto people, places, and things, the impermanence or loss of them can bring about pain, fear, or other traumatic emotions and responses. So, as long as a monk is not attached to the phone, they can use it.
Sudha went on, “Monks can have fancy cars, big homes, many things. But it can be very difficult to have so many physical possessions and not feel attached to them and not desire more. Which is why it is common for monks to give up their earthly possessions.”
I have taken many lessons from the practice of Buddhism over the years, including this idea of attachment. While it is not the most feasible for each of us to suddenly relinquish all of our earthly possessions, I think there is a great lesson there for us all, especially during this month. Maybe we can’t give up our home, our clothes, or our car tomorrow, but maybe we can start with not getting a new cell phone every year or two because “the camera is better.” Or maybe there is a different action in your life where you can practice letting go of attachment.
We talk often about these grand solutions—global climate policies, state-of-the-art technology like electric vehicles or renewable energy, or a sudden mass behavior change like giving up straws. I don’t mean to suggest that these are not worthy actions in which to invest, but there is more space, I believe, for reflection on how we transform our perspectives around our earthly possessions. This, for me, has been a slow process and one that I feel I am still in the beginning stages. But if each of us are intentional and consistent in considering what we really need, I think the problem of climate change suddenly feels less overwhelming and more manageable to tackle, and like we, as individuals, can also do something about it. I would be remiss in not identifying that the majority of our carbon emissions come from industry, so action is also required there, but for me, it’s not an “either or,” it’s a “both and.” And once you take action in your own life, the path for greater collective action often reveals itself.
No one is coming to save us; we are the ones we have been waiting for, and everyone has a role. Transforming the world begins with self transformation. I encourage each of you to consider what you really NEED in this life. And be easy with yourself and others—it will look differently for each of us. But as you reflect on this, remember what we can learn from the teachings of Buddhism—nothing is permanent and possessing things or people won’t make you happy. So from that lens—what is it that you need to transform yourself and this Earth?
—Tam Marcus
Tam Marcus is a friend of Prairiewoods who is looking forward to attending Spirituality in the 21st Century: Hope in Action April 26–27. This year’s event features Susan Bauer-Wu, Ph.D.; Rev. Veronica M. Johnson; Leah Rampy, Ph.D.; and musician Sara Thomsen. Learn more at prairiewoods.org/spirituality-in-the-21st-century.