Dharma Glimpse by Dayamay Dunsby

As I sat in the garden at work this morning, getting some November sunshine and some fresh air, a redbreasted robin fluttered down into the bush in front of me. It could obviously see me and chirped boldly in my direction, as if asking me a question. Head tilted slightly to one side, tail bobbing up and down. It then made a tentative leap from its branch down to me, as I crouched down in order to see it better and maybe get a photo. It ventured close enough for me to have touched it, skipping a few careful steps, and then darted off into the far side of the garden.

This felt significant, partly because it left me with a warm feeling and a sense of awe at the diversity and complexity of life. I knew that the robin had felt my presence and recognised it as important in some way – just as I had its.

Before the Robin appeared I had been gazing in wonder at the near-naked branches of the winter trees, contemplating the meaning of their cyclical stripping down and regenerating.

Is it indicative or symbolic in some way? Maybe Gaia showing us that we can’t hold on any more than we can prevent the new from interpenetrating the old? Or just transformation, expressed for the sake of beauty and resonance?

I might usually conclude these musings with a summary of my own particular interpretation; but somehow, it feels important this time to just let a bird be a bird and a tree be a tree.

Namo Amida Bu.

Dharma Glimpse by Jenn Ashworth

I am only really just getting to grips with what a glimpse is. A question surfaces for me, which is ‘so what?’

If I glimpse some greater truth or wisdom or I learn something, does it matter if I am not altered by it in some way?

What hides underneath this question is an experience I had last night. I had a stomach upset on Monday and Tuesday and had to take a little bit of time off work. I struggle with this and I have a lot of very self-critical and harsh thoughts about myself when I’m sick. To avoid feeling self-criticised, when I am unwell I very often say to myself, ‘right, mind over matter, you’re not being sick any more so get up and get going!’

I have had glimpses about this before – about how this way I am so unkind to myself is a way to protect myself – I have parts that are scared that if I am not working really hard people will say I am useless, worthless, rubbish. I also know that I have never, not once, been able to force myself to get better from willpower. And I have never, not once, stopped trying to manage it. And failing to be able to make myself better by the sheer power of my own desire is a sure route to feeling even more rubbish.

Anyway, I am over the stomach upset but I went back to work and did too much too early. And last night I was feeling totally worn out and unwell. And my inner critics were saying ‘you are so lazy, I bet you were just pretending to be ill anyway’ and another part of me said ‘no, I really was ill, but I worked really hard, here’s a big list of all the things I did’ and another part said, ‘mmm. Maybe it is true that I wasn’t really sick at all. Maybe I was pretending. That would be a terrible thing to do! perhaps I’m a terrible person!’ and another part of me said, ‘here we go again. You always do this when you’re ill. And you’re doing it again!’ and in the midst of all this noise and chatter I started wondering about glimpsing.

I think I’d hoped the last time I’d had this glimpse of wisdom about myself, about what I did when I was sick and why I did it, then I’d stop doing it. And last night I learned that despite the glimpsing, it hadn’t really changed.

I guess what did change was the tone of voice. When I said to myself ‘here we go again, here’s this thing you do when you’re ill’ the voice sounded a bit kinder, and bit more amused than it usually does. And I gave myself five minutes to do my usual crazy thing, knowing there were some good reasons for me doing it, then I went to sleep. So perhaps I can put this down as a half-glimpse?

Dharma Glimpse by Dayamay Dunsby

This time of year can really be a bit of a struggle for me. My psychological baggage relating to childhood and early manhood, wounded and exiled parts exerting their influence and dominating my thinking, and the impact of the dreary weather and shorter days with less sunlight.

It is a time when I can lose sight of the blessings in my life and dwell too heavily on the negative aspects of the world. The cost-of-living crisis – not enough money (although I’ve got everything I need and more), bleak prospects for the future of our planet and personal health issues, all contribute to a sense of lack in me that feels ingrained and pervasive.

My training and my societal conditioning point me towards a stoic perseverance narrative, which often feels a bit more like avoidance than real, genuine strength or resilience. But it does tend to keep me moving, for better or worse.

And I set off for an overly busy day on Sunday. Starting with a visit to a very old friend, who, for one reason and another, I haven’t managed to connect with in person for nearly ten years.
As she opened the door, I noticed how much she had aged since I last saw her and that she was clearly struggling with serious physical issues, even more debilitating than the ones that I was experiencing at the time.

When her face lit up as she saw me, I realised how deeply I had missed her and how much our friendship meant to her. She had been one of the critical influences and lifelines in my struggle towards a normal life, whilst in the thick of all the pre-recovery and early recovery chaos that I went through on my journey. She was always there and an incredible source of support and inspiration for me. She told me how proud she was of me and that she had such faith in me after watching me come to life and begin to heal and grow. It felt like staring into a portal of truth that helped me to glimpse a different angle on the facts of my life, rather than just the ones that I had selected to wallow in.

It reminded me that I’m not really just here for myself, nor, as a spiritual practitioner, could I really justify neglecting the reality of the effect that my existence has on the world around me. Whether I like it or not, my life is profoundly embedded in the intricate matrix of people, things, feelings and experience which constitutes the ongoing saga of this incredible universe.

We talked about the past and some of the terrible things that we had both experienced, heart-breaking, life-changing catastrophe; and yet here we both were, still striving to make some good happen around us and help to reduce some of the darkness. This, in itself, is a miracle.

So despite my internal nagging, I left there in a completely different frame of mind, nourished by our connection and encouraged by the fact that there is something else going on in the grand scheme of things. Something that operates beyond my self-judgement and negativity; something that can hold both my darkness and my inherent usefulness, while I grapple with the realities of just being human!

Namo Amida Bu.

Dharma Glimpse by Dayamay Dunsby

As I set out for a walk in the rain during a period of covid convalescence the other day, I realised that I was too cold without my hat. I had already walked about 100 yards but turned back and trapsed upstairs to find a suitable covering to protect my balding head from the elements.

When I set off again, I realised, in my weakened state that my legs were too cold and I could already feel dampness in my jeans as the wind drove sheets of rain sideways into me. So I made my way back to the house to get another layer.

After a third trip back to get a brolley,  I was finally set to enjoy some quality time in  nature, despite the continuous nagging of my worry, reminding me how fragile I was.

When I emerged out of the front door it had stopped raining altogether and the wind had dropped significantly. I suddenly felt overdressed, too hot and bored of the idea of having a walk.

However, I was somewhat amused by what felt like a universal conspiracy to teach me a lesson about my human nature. I realised that this is a pattern that repeats itself over and again in my life. I try to insulate myself against suffering, building defences in every direction, only to find that the worst of my troubles has tunneled underneath, undermining the very ground that I stand on!!


But what is the lesson here? Because I don’t believe that it can be to reach an attitude of indifference towards the trials and tribulations of being human. Or to be more efficient in the defences that we create, ensuring that we’re ready, come what may.

I think it is more just a gentle nod, a friendly pointer, towards the fact that we are not, and never can be, fully in control of our circumstances. It is uncertainty itself that prepares us for adversity. And adversity that informs the way we proceed in troubled times!!

Namo Amida Bu!

As I sat alone the other evening after I heard that my cousin had passed away, I reflected on friendship, how we all rely to a certain extent on others. Some is through what we have now, and some what we had in our past. With me I tend to get confused to a certain extent with the two. Let me explain.

When I heard of my cousin, I immediately thought of days gone by. I am 62 and have not had a lot to do with him since I was in my 20s. I did see him a couple of times ten years ago when my daughter was living close to him in London. Therefore, why such a sense of loss, I miss him, but how can I miss someone now that I have not seen for over ten years and no real relationship for 40 years. 

This is not about me being cold, I am soft to be honest. That is part of the reason. On reflection, I thought of several things. I am human and have feeing’s so hearing he’s passed away will hurt. The thought of his family’s pain will make me sad.

To a certain extent some of the pain I think is due to remembering him when we were young, so is it partly my own vulnerability that upsets me? The realization that I am Older, the lost memories of my childhood that comes rushing back. Sitting in an upstairs room with him and his older brother as they excitedly talked of a new soldier they had seen; both had asked for it for Christmas. It was an action man. Playing monopoly, their frustration of the 3- or 4-year-old who was playing with them. 

All that hurts and is partly due to missing him and I believe it partly due to me missing me. My childhood, dreams, excitement, so many people that have gone that I now long to talk to.   

Then I remember the teachings and so much of what the Buddha teaches in the 4 noble truths is within that thought process. Longing for the past unable to let go. The fear of, getting ill, growing old and dying. But can I let go? I do not believe I can, I can try to live by the 8 fold path, follow the  teachings. Ultimately, I will fail, due to my bombu nature and the fact that I am a foolish being with all the emotions that brings with it. So, I will turn to Amida, I will chant Namo Amida Bu, and hope that will support me in my sadder moments.  

Metta.

Dharma Glimpse by Dayamay Dunsby

Can you remember the moment that you first grasped the profundity of what it means that you’re alive?

One minute you’re not here – next minute you are.

Like a puppy licking a strangers face. Confronted with an alien landscape.

Each new thing engaging the mind of form and feeling. Every mindless breath drawing us deeper into the nature of things.

We are propelled into a stream of unconsciousness, perpetually manifest by our collective scrambling for actuality…solidity. This stretches back into the depths of eternity.

Nature occurs as an anchor, the ground upon which we gradually sense the ephemeral and turn towards the unconditioned.

It never stops coming forth. Just as the mind never ceases, so nature endlessly secretes life and the capacity for experience and understanding.

Nature and mind are co-extensive with one another. They are coterminous.

Can they be both…or nothing at all?

Buddhas buddhas everywhere…everywhere you look…Buddhas!!

Namo Amitabha. 

A Dharma Glimpse by Jenn

So I’m away this weekend finishing off the coast to coast walk. This is a walk right across the north of England from St Bees on the west coast of Cumbria right across Cumbria and Yorkshire to the North East coast at Robin Hood’s Bay. It was invented in the 1970s by Alfred Wainwright who has become a bit of a hero for those who like long walks. He was very interested in self-power (he probably wouldn’t call it that) and a lot of his writing about long distance fell walking is about grit and determination, about mind over matter, about being a person alone conquering the great outdoors.

I actually was entirely conquered by mother nature as when I set out to do this walk in July I had to abandon the last two days (40 miles) because of the heatwave. I’d have been walking across high and unshaded moorland in the 35 degree heat with only the water I could carry. I could not mind-over-matter that set of circumstances. So i gave up and I felt terrible about it. I felt like I’d been a weakling and really quite pathetic and it took me a long time to look after myself and make a good decision and comfort the parts of me that were really unhappy about that decision. And to make those parts happy I’ve come back this weekend in cool and windy autumn weather to finish the walk.

I did 22 miles today and my body is hurting. It’s really good I didn’t try to master myself and the world and actually accepted the limitations of my body. As I walked today through miles and miles and miles of very desolate moorland, seeing nobody for hours and hours, I realised how far away from help I would have been if I’d have persisted during the summer. How much water I would have needed to carry. I don’t know how many times the world is going to need to teach me about my own smallness and the benefits of surrender but I had that lesson again today.

A Dharma Glimpse by Dayamay Dunsby

I recently had an interesting conversation with a fellow community member about the value of community – Sangha, in Buddhist terms. As is often the case in these community discussions, tantalising questions and ideas came up that made me think about how important the Sangha is, as a spiritual model for the world at large, and, as a practical method of survival in a time of planetary emergency.

Every now and then I am inclined to stop and evaluate my place in the world. I’ve lived in community for a long time now and sometimes wonder whether it’s time for a change; whether there might be a home somewhere out there, waiting to accommodate and fulfill me in ways that my current situation can’t. Whether I might be taking up space that would better serve somebody else or just simply out staying my welcome.

And, as usual, the more I think about leaving, the implications of ‘independent’ living and the potential benefits in most aspects of the idea, the more absurd it seems. It is not even necessary to turn on the news anymore, in order to see or even feel the deterioration that is unfolding on a daily basis ‘out there’.

The world is getting darker. The Buddha’s prediction of Mappo – The Dark Age or Age of the Dharma decline, has never been more relevant than it is today. Which makes the model of the harmonious Sangha ever more important. We are charged with the responsibility of demonstrating an alternative to apathy, ignorance and the superficial values of a broken culture.

The phrase that came up for me in our conversation was “Sangha is a lifeboat”. It was inspired by imagery that was used in teachings to describe to me and others the vital importance of exemplifying a way of life that reflects sanity and stability amid an ocean of chaos and turbulence.

Those of us lucky enough to be aboard the lifeboat have to take turns to row and navigate towards a brighter horizon. We have to bail out the water as the leaks spring up and plug the holes that appear as our human dramas rock the vessel.

Of course, this ideal doesn’t come naturally or sit intuitively with most of us. We have been indoctrinated into a social climate that sells us individualism, and presents arrogance as some kind of a virtue. To transcend this corrosive trend is to risk alienation and isolation.

Our spiritual practice, both individual and collective is cohesive and unifying, as is our friendship and companionship. They help us to join in a vision of a better world, which is always possible if we can prioritize the needs of the collective, rather than contributing towards the fragmentation that threatens to capsize us.

Namo Amida Bu