Nissaya, part one

The following is a draft, or rather a collection of musings pretending to be a draft, of an personal/academic essay I'm working on about the concept of nissaya in Cambodian religion and culture.

A word that has come up again and again in my journeys through Buddhism in Cambodia, is nissaya, a Pali word that has entered the Khmer language, most often translated as "destiny" or "fate." Most people I talked with tended to stick to this translation, which connects the term to a whole mess of Western concepts and superstitions, which may not be entirely relevant to Cambodian cultureFrom a strictly Buddhist perspective, however, I would tend towards translating the word as "affinity," especially as a karmic affinity for the teachings of the Buddha, or the Dharma.

In Buddhist scriptures, the simile of a lotus pond appears: some plants are still deep in the mud, some have emerged from the mud but lie deep below the surface of the water, others are close to the surface but their flowers have not yet opened, and others have burst forth into the sunlight, unstained by mud or water. This is a simile for our journey on the path to enlightenment, or how far our nissaya, or karmic affinities, in past lives have taken us along this path. If we are close to the surface, we can see the Dharma clearly, and it is easy to practice. Thus our nissaya is said to be strong; through cultivation of the heart over many lifetimes, we have developed far along the path. If we are still buried deep in the mud of our defilement, then it will be very difficult for the light of the Dharma to reach us. Thus our nissaya is said to be weak, and we have not yet had the chance to cultivate our heart to its fullest potential.

From some perspectives, the crux of Buddhism is the teaching of cause and effect; According to the Buddhist teaching of karma (which means "action," specifically volitional action), our position in this life is the result of our deeds in the past. If the dominant effect is wholesome, then may be born such that we can see the Dharma clearly and without obstructions. If the dominant effect is unwholesome, then we will likely go further into the mud. In this simile, the position of the lotus plant in the pond refers to our spiritual potential, or how clear our vision of the Dharma is.

But in traditional Cambodian Buddhist society, it can also mean our worldly rank, prestige, beauty or intelligence. However, the word nissaya encompasses still broader meanings. It can also mean "fate" in the sense that who we meet in this life corresponds to events or previous relationships in past lives. This fate can be in a worldly sense, as in the fate of lovers or even friends, or in a spiritual sense, as in the connection between spiritual teachers and their disciples, or even to a sacred place, temple or landscape. Furthermore, the Buddhist monastic code treats nissaya as "dependence" or "reliance," referring to the commitment a disciple makes to depend upon his mentor. In the ordination ceremony for Theravada Buddhist monks in Cambodia, newly-ordained monks ask for nissaya from their teacher after receiving the precepts to complete the ceremony.

In any event, nissaya falls beyond our normal perception. It is a special quantity, one that we may not immediately consider or recognize. In Cambodia, it is almost always used in the positive, meaning our good roots, rather than the effects of karmic retribution. Thus is person is said to "have nissaya" if she exhibits a natural gift for spiritual things. In this essay, I will explore some of the ways in which this key concept has pervaded my experience of Buddhism in Cambodia, and how my experiences reveal the nature of nissaya in Cambodian society.

When I first went to Master Prum Ut’s smot class in Kompong Speu Province during late September, 2005, I had a feeling of welcome and familiarity that is hard to describe. My Khmer was very limited at that time, and I remember my friend Sambor, who was translating for me at that time, kept goading me on to speech the language with the master and his students—I could barely speak two words before having to stop and ask Sambor for help again. But Prum Ut’s stateliness and serene smile immediately brought my heart to ease and the motherly and intimate welcome of his assistant master, Keot Ran, shook me to my senses. I felt complete confidence in a journey I really knew nothing about, a journey that soon brought me to move to the countryside to live with Prum Ut and my master’s family, to study esoteric chanting in a language I had only studied for a few months. In my mind, I did not consider that karmic connection as factor; I only knew that the chanting had interested me, which in Khmer would be translated as “it had captured my consciousness.” But in truth, I did trust the Dharma on that occasion and I knew that this journey was in the realm of Buddhism, and that if I practiced and studied sincerely, I would not need to worry about where I would end up.