Though just 26, Jaed Coffin of Portland has packed a lot onto his resume. He's a writer, a boxer and an ordained Buddhist monk. Coffin plans to write a book about his experience at a Thai temple, and says in some ways, boxers and monks are similar.
Jaed Coffin is probably one of the few people you're going to meet who can make a credible case for the similarities between the life of a boxer and the life of a Buddhist monk.
Coffin is credible, because he has experienced both.
The 26-year-old Brunswick native boxes regularly at the Portland Boxing Club and recently fought in a Golden Gloves semifinal match in Lowell, Mass. When he was 21, he spent a summer living and studying in a temple, in Thailand, in the village his mother is from. He ended up becoming an ordained Buddhist monk in that temple, following the other males in his family.
Coffin's other passion is writing. He's working on a master's degree in creative writing at the University of Southern Maine and plans to write a book about his experience at the Thai temple called "Dutsadi Sangwoey Glom Chang" or, in English, "A Chant to Soothe Wild Elephants."
He also works in the office of the Maine Writers and Publishers Alliance.
Though he introduces himself as "Jed," his name is not pronounceable in English. He says Jaed is a Thai name that means "judicious and philosophical."
Q: You're a boxer, a fighter, but you've also traveled to Thailand to study the ways of Buddhist monks. Aren't those two things at odds with one another?
A: Not at all. The elements of training in boxing and monastic life are one in the same. I would say that it takes more discipline and focus to be a boxer than it does to be a monk.
There are monks that cheat on meditation, that are not as devout as others, and, in this life, they can get away with it. When a boxer cheats on his training, when he's weak on discipline, he'll probably get pummeled. All the fighters at PBC (Portland Boxing Club) have deep respect for the gym in the same way that the monks at Wat Takwean (the temple I lived in in Thailand) have respect for the temple pagoda.
Boxing seems like a nearly religious lifestyle, from discipline to diet. Most monks eat more than a boxer in training. People don't know how hard that can be, to purify your body that way.
Q: It seems like boxing is about channeling rage, sometimes, and that Buddhism is about avoiding it. How do Buddhists deal with anger and frustration, and is there a way for the rest of us to do the same?
A: I suppose Buddhists deal with rage through meditation, by emptying the mind through focused breathing. It's not all that different than what a boxer must do at a faster pace in a fight.
It makes for a good metaphor: Any boxer who fights with rage will burn himself out pretty quickly, just like a person who runs around full of anger.
Jai yen is a Buddhist principle of Thai boxing, which basically means, "calm-hearted," and it makes good sense: to be meditative under the pressure of everyday life.
Q: What drew you to boxing in the first place?
A: I had always played team sports, and I found that there were too many accessory details. Too much time to argue about rules, to flaunt victory, to complain, to whine, to cheat. Boxing is pretty pure and scientific, and there's little room for dishonesty. The only drama is honest drama. Boxing - and I've only been into this for a few years - is a tough and irresistible form of therapy.
Q: What keeps you interested in boxing?
A: Well, trying to be a writer, I know how easy it is to get lazy. I find that holding myself accountable to PBC is a way to structure my life so that I stay focused on what is important. As soon as I take a few days off, I can feel myself lose focus on my writing as well. They're so related to one another. I love and respect the sport and all it offers, but I don't dream to be the light heavyweight champion of the world. I'm happy being a decent sparring partner to the guys and girls who need it.
Q: Aren't you afraid of getting hurt? What's the worst injury you've had?
A: No. A nose will eventually stop bleeding and a black eye just looks bad; they don't really hurt. You get a sore jaw, a banged-up nose, knuckle injuries, but you just learn to train through them or rest when you can. I've got a rib that is annoying me right now, so I'm just running and staying fit for a few weeks.
Q: Do any of the teachings of Buddha help you to be a better boxer? Do the principles of boxing help you to be a better person? A better writer?
A: Yes, definitely. Buddhism, as I've learned it, places so much emphasis on respect: for your teachers, for the rules of your culture, for living things.
Everyone at PBC knows that Bobby Russo (the trainer at PBC) is the only guy who can make us better fighters, and so we have that same respect for him. Again, it's the discipline and honesty inherent in both boxing and Buddhist practice that I find to be so central to becoming a solid person. As far as writing, it belongs in that group as well.
Q: Who is your favorite boxer and why?
A: I followed the Russian-Korean boxer Kostya Tszyu for a long time. I appreciated his respect for his opponents, his humility in the ring, and more than anything, his power. He could hit. And his multicultural ethnicity was something I could identify with.
Q: Growing up in Maine, did your mother talk much about Thai history and culture? Were you proud of it? Disinterested?
A: For a long time it was sort of a mystery to me. There were almost no Asians in Brunswick, and all my friends were white. But she took my sister and me to Thailand many times as children.
We didn't speak Thai growing up, but we did learn about our culture. I met monks when I was a child. I knew I had a whole other family on the other side of the world, and she raised us with an appreciation for simplicity that I think is often lost in American culture.
There were times when I wanted to change my name to Jeff, to have blond hair, etc. There were also times when I wanted to be full Asian and move back to Thailand.
Q: What exactly did you do in Thailand? Were you basically taking the training that all young Thai Buddhists take, or was it something else?
A: I was ordained as a Buddhist monk in the temple of my mother's village in Thailand. It was during the rice season, when many young men enter the temple to honor their families through religious devotion. It is an ancient rite of passage that is losing popularity among the modern generation. I want to preserve those traditions in my life to honor my ancestors.
Q: When exactly did you go to Thailand to be ordained and how long were you there? What was your daily routine like?
A: I was 21 and I stayed in the temple for the whole summer. I had to go back to college and finish my senior year. That was in 2001.
Our daily routine consisted of waking up at 5 a.m., meditating for half an hour, walking out into the streets barefoot to beg for food (but we knew where the offerings were coming from; the relationship between monks and the town is quite altruistic like that), and then we'd chant in the temple for about 40 minutes before breakfast. Then we'd eat, have a break, meditate more, and at 11 a.m. we'd eat again. Then, from noon until five, we'd study Bali (an ancient Buddhist language) or attend blessing ceremonies at houses or schools. At 5:30, we'd chant again, this time longer, and then by 7, we'd sweep the temple grounds, or go to the canal and wash our robes and bathe.
By 9, we'd be back in the temple, relaxing, but not eating (again after the morning) meal.
I got hungry sometimes, but grew used to the diet. I'd hang out with the temple boys, the homeless kids who came to live in the temple and worked in return for school and room and board. Then, about 9, I'd usually write for a few hours, and then meditate, and sleep.
Q: How did you persuade the religious powers that be in that village to allow you to study, to be ordained? Is it unusual for someone who is half-Caucasian to be allowed to do this?
A: I was ordained in the same temple that my grandfather and uncles belonged to. I was the next in line of the males in our family. It was unusual to have a look-krung (half-Thai, half-Western child) show up, but everyone knew me from previous trips to the village and they had always, since I was a child, asked me to enter the temple.
It was an honor to live amongst monks who had known so many generations of my family. I felt a deep sense of belonging once I was there, and once they shaved off my hair and eyebrows, and put me in orange robes.
Q: What will your book be about?
A: "A Chant to Soothe Wild Elephants" is about growing up between cultures, primarily ancient and modern cultures, and shaping your identity as such. Much of it takes place in Thailand, where I spent time in a forest temple in the North. But much of it takes place in good old Brunswick as well. The title comes from a Thai epic poem written some 500 years ago, but it tells the same story. Much of it is still in flux. I've only submitted a small section to the publisher, and they might want to change it in certain ways. We'll see how it goes.
Q: You have passions for boxing and writing. Are there similarities between the two?
A: Yes. The boxing writer from the '50s, A.J. Liebling, once wrote, "the boxer and the writer are one and the same, both must stand alone and face their art." That is what drives me to both, the feeling of being entirely autonomous and self-sufficient. If you fail, it's on you, and you have to own that.
Q: What's tougher for you, battling someone in the ring or battling writer's block?
A: Well, since there are some amazing fighters at PBC, I kind of learn my limitations. When I'm lucky enough to spar with Jason Lehouillier, I sort of know what's coming and I do the best I can. Same with Russell Lamour. Those guys don't seem to have the same limitations that I do. However, I can honestly say that I've never had a day of writer's block. Writers spend a lot of time talking about writer's block, and, with all due respect, that baffles me. Maybe they should learn to box.
Q: If you had to choose one, boxing or writing, which would you choose? If you could be a championship boxer or a best-selling author, which would you choose?
A: Writing. Hands down. But after a good sparring session, when I'm in slick shape and feeling fast, I start to think I'm the next great champ.
Q: You recently competed in a Golden Gloves competition? What exactly is that?
A: It's a national amateur boxing tournament that is some 80 years old. All the great boxers were once golden glovers.
Q: Why do you think boxing seems much less popular than it was a generation ago?
A: Boxing was so famous for so long, at periods when our country really seemed to value heroism, honesty and grit. I don't know if that is our focus anymore.
We seem more interested in innovation and convenience. That worries me. Someone like Ali, his stature as a sort of fighter/politician, did so much for civil rights in this country. During the Depression, boxers played such a major role in giving hope to the desperate.
Boxers flaunt their ethnicity in a way that brings cultures together, even if they clash, they still have to face one another. Maybe we just need better boxers, but I think there is some correlation between the popularity of boxing and the values of our American culture. If kids would rather play computer games than learn to fight, well, so be it.
|
