Being Curious About My Attachments

    Categories: Uncategorised

    A Dharma Glimpse by Fi Curnow

    The other weekend, I got myself some new garden furniture.  Well, when I say new, I mean new to me.  It was very second hand and cheap off Facebook Marketplace.

    Getting it home, though, and setting up the four chairs and one table in my tiny back yard filled me with a sense of joy that seemed ludicrously disproportionate.  I was immediately inclined to take myself to task.  I appeared to be experiencing a sensation of clinging to my new material possessions.  Should I feel guilty that this was making me so very happy?  In response I decided to unpick the feeling.

    Over the past 35 years since I’ve had my own homes, I’ve rarely had the luxury of being able to buy just what I wanted to furnish those places in anything like a co-ordinated manner.  But in a way, this has been a gift.  Because much of the furniture that has travelled around with me has its own story.  The chairs I bought for next to nothing from a junk shop, stripped them of their white gloss paint and stained them a beautiful shade of deep rich brown.  The pans I saved from my late aunt’s flat which reminded me of my childhood.  All the bargains I picked up from reject outlets and charity shops because I was fortunate enough to be there at the right time.  The mirrors and shelves a former partner enthusiastically dragged out of various skips and brought home (and sometimes I did tell them to take some of their offerings and put them right back in the skips where they’d found them! But that memory in itself stirred a tender feeling of affection and gratitude to an individual who was an important part of my story)

    These mismatched things have a history which makes them unique and part of my journey.  More than that, though, they represent generosity – that of friends who gifted or passed things on to me, or that of strangers who gave those items to charity shops or put them on Freecycle for me to claim.  So when I look around my home at the things that have come to me that way, I remember my gratitude to all those people.

    Back to my new garden furniture.  After examining my feelings towards some of my other possessions, I recognised that my sudden joy at these new acquisitions was more about what they represented than just ‘having new stuff.’  On warmer days I might sit outside for a while and read comfortably when I got home from work.  I would be able to sit out at dusk and watch the pipistrelles flit from the big old trees by the railway line, letting me cherish my connection to nature even in this very crowded built environment.  All those extra chairs meant I would be able to invite more than one friend round for a meal at a time.

    I know I’m a foolish being and have an attachment to my possessions that I’m not likely to outgrow any time soon.  But taking a little time to be curious about my attachments has been an interesting exercise for me in what has been important about my journey to where I am now – and that is gratitude and love.

    Namo Amida Bu.

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    Can all Errands be Prayer?

    Categories: dharma glimpse

    Dharma Glimpse by Kaspa

    Photo by RODNAE Productions:

    This morning I have to send a new Chromebook back. We bought it to run Zoom practice sessions on and the network card isn’t good enough. I’ve been anticipating this with lots of resentment.

    It took a long time to set up the Chromebook when it arrived (in retrospect, because the internet connection kept dropping, I imagine) and I have lots better things I could be doing with my time this morning, and, and….

    As I was mulling this over just now a thought appeared. What if you could make this job into a form of prayer?

    What would that look like, I wondered.

    Saying thank you to all the processes and people and materials that went into creating this technology. Recognising the cost to the land for extracting these materials. Recognising the suffering of some people in this process.

    Cultivating the intention to join people from far away with our Buddhist practice.

    And perhaps something about dropping any of the words and simply approaching the job with some mindfulness and curiosity about how it is do be in relationship to this errand, to this Chromebook, to this cardboard box in this moment. Who knows what might come of that? (Some thoughts like the ones above, I guess, and perhaps something else as well.)

    Making and Losing Friends

    Categories: buddhism dharma glimpse

    A Dharma Glimpse by Aidan

    Photo by Arthur Brognoli

    Last week, I unexpectedly reconnected with an old friend with whom I had once been very close but fell out with five long years ago.

    We had made apologies for what happened and spoken on and off since then, but my anxieties, my clinging to old memories and fears, held us back from really coming back into each other’s lives.

    Perhaps I was held back by my ego, by my desire, not for something, but to avoid something.

    To avoid confronting the past and risking embracing a renewed friendship that may end in the same way again.

    I had long thought that we had fallen out of each other’s lives for good.

    I’d accepted that.

    Despite the occasional text message, we fell out of touch yet again not too long ago and I felt that I had wasted my final chance at reconciliation.

    But a chance encounter on a train and a conversation with a mutual friend led us to spend real time together for the first time in half a decade.

    It was strange.

    Awkward to start with, but then special.

    Like reliving old times.

    It has left me thinking ever since about second chances and the all-too strange coincidences of life.

    At a time when I was thinking a lot about how I had messed up an opportunity to reconnect, accepting the consequences, everything just seemed to line up, well beyond either of our controls, to bring us together.

    I cannot explain how this happened or why, but I’ve accepted, after meditating on it, that I don’t need to.

    I must just be grateful that it happened at all.

    It has got me thinking, too, about that most important concept: impermanence.

    The impermanence of our original friendship.

    The impermanence of our distance.

    The impermanence of our lives and how much things have changed for the both of us in the years since.

    Perhaps the impermanence of our renewed relationship.

    I have spent so many years desiring to fix things between us, and yet desiring to avoid fresh hurt.

    Every step forward we have taken before has left me wanting to step back away again.

    But now that that desire is met, what now?

    I know that the answer must be to just enjoy it, to accept what we had, what we lost, and what we have again.

    Perhaps that is easier said than done.

    But I must now put my practice to work, to value what we’ve got now, and accept that things will come and go as life intended.

    I have considered that, maybe, the lesson I am meant to draw from this was that I was only able to reach my desire – to reconcile and reunite with my friend – only when I no longer desired it.

    It came to me naturally, when my desire was lost, replaced by grief, and then acceptance and when there was nothing left to fear and no more hope of seeking this.

    In acceptance of what I had, came what I had sought.

    And happiness came not through wanting this, but by it coming to me when the time was right for me to receive it, free of fear and prejudgements and preconceptions of what I wanted from it.

    After all, our reunion came about, not as a result of me seeking my desire, but through pure quirk of fate.

    I never believed that we would reconnect, but life made it happen.

    Perhaps we will be friends for many years once again, perhaps we will not.

    Life will decide and I must just play with whatever hand I am dealt and accept our friendship, however long or short it may be this time, for the unexpected gift that it is.


    Categories: Uncategorised

    Dharma Glimpse by Dayamay Dunsby

    Aine, the new Temple dog, joined us for walking meditation in the garden on Saturday. And as we were slowly shuffling round amongst the flowers and shrubs in the gentle rain, she found an old newspaper that she liked the look and smell of. It was already wet and as she tossed it and thrashed it around with her mouth, it disintegrated into hundreds of bits, which distributed themselves over a large section of my recently cut lawn.

    I was struck by an analogy that relates to the potential for our capacity to wreak havoc in our pursuit of happiness.
    Aine’s fun left an after effect that, from an outside perspective, looked pretty messy.

    This really resonated with my experience of how, just my everyday activities and interactions, have the power to leave quite a trace on the intricate web of my life.

    I can be quite innocently engaging in, what I feel to be, relatively innocuous pleasures or normal endeavors, whilst inadvertently and sometimes negatively impacting on the lives of others.

    Of course, this is largely unavoidable and mostly accidental, but is not without its consequences, which can bring a whole range of residual and quite subtle stirrings.

    It made me think of the etymology of the word Awake, which is somewhat deeper than our widely accepted version of basically just being conscious.

    The analogy of moving through water is sometimes used to describe the root meaning of the word. As we walk or swim we leave a visible track behind us, or, in our ‘wake’. This track represents the immediate impact of our movement through the world in its physical and metaphysical forms. The track fans out behind us and keeps spreading as we surge forward, generating more of the same.

    To be A-wake, is to be living consciously in amongst the ripples flowing out from our actions and behaviours. Taking responsibility for all of the joys and sufferings that our existence inevitably incurs.

    To me, this perfectly describes a large portion of what Shakyamuni taught in his time on our planet. That we must learn to understand the implications and far reaching effects that arise out of our existence. That it’s possible to leave a less harmful wake as we strive onwards towards truth, peace and harmony.

    Namo Amida Bu.

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    A loving power

    Categories: Uncategorised

    Dharma Glimpse by Paul Riley

    I get the bus to work each morning and pass through some of the most impoverished parts of Liverpool. The buildings are falling down. People look beat. Crime, addiction and deprivation are everywhere. The place I’m heading to – Liverpool prison – is a condensed microcosm of this pain and suffering, where up to 1400 men are incarcerated. Over the years, I’ve seen thousands of men pass through the jail… young and old, from near and far, drug dealers to doctors, from drop-outs to professors of neuroscience… all with their own version of anger and stories of personal injustice. Violence and abuse are rife in the prison, often fuelled by gang drug wars. Self harm is common and suicide becomes the only answer for some.

    I sit on the bus and contemplate all this. This is how it is. This is what life throws up. It’s not easy for anybody in these places but these places exist and people live and work in them. 

    I remember speaking to a prison officer who said he conducted a morning ritual of drawing a protective circle around himself before coming into the prison, shielding against the residual negative energy of the building. An understandable precaution for a person who can be plunged into the depths of extreme situations at the drop of a hat. It got me thinking about my own practice. Each morning I open myself up to life as it is. I invite a loving power to work through me, with faith that this power will soothe the manifestations of greed, anger and ignorance as they appear.  So, unlike the officer who dons more armour to protect himself, I sit and say Nembutsu, taking my armour off. I have faith in this practice, that I can live more freely in gratitude for what is, not habitually hiding from the gritty reality of life, not constricted by fear, held by the hand of the Buddha.

    Namo Amida Bu

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    Categories: Uncategorised

    Dharma Glimpse by Kim Allard

    When I was young I asked my Dad if prayers work. He replied that they might but they weren’t like a gum ball machine where you put something in and get something out. Today I would reply “maybe.”

    As I turn to Amitabha in meditation, gratitude and times of difficulty I find renewed strength from unexpected sources. These small graces happen with a frequency causing me long ago to discarded them as coincidence.  I no longer make specific requests but simply ask for guidance, strength, patience or help for someone in need.  The creativity and wisdom of the reply never fails to astound me. Then I have to resist the temptation to tell everyone what happened. I have come to realize these replies are private and unique for each of us.  Amitabha’s response will resonate within the one who asks and when shared can be misunderstood.

    Dad today is the fourth anniversary since you passed.  My prayer for you is an acknowledgement that we didn’t do the Dad and daughter thing very well.  Our time together was complicated and difficult.  But I will always be grateful to you for leaving me with coping skills I value. Because I now know my prayers bare fruit I send you my love and gratitude for what you could give me – and I focus less on what you could not.  May you forever be in Love, light and peace. 

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    Rearranging Furniture

    Categories: Uncategorised

    Dharma Glimpse by Satya Robyn 
    Yesterday Kaspa and I were tired after a long week, but I’d got it into my head that we could improve our bedroom, which I’ve always hated, by rearranging the furniture. It’s a small room and so the options were pretty limited, but after few hours of lugging furniture around, a lot of cleaning, a trip to the tip and a new duvet cover (modelled above by Roshi) and an elegant flowery print from a charity shop, we had a whole new bedroom! We were delighted.
    We often find that furniture rearranging is a result of some internal rearranging of our furniture. After a previous mental shift we redesigned our living room, and a year later it still makes me happy to sit in it. This current shift is partly a result of a new plan in the temple to run book study groups (styled on Bright Dawn) and offer students a chance to immerse themselves more thoroughly in the Dharma. As we settle down for the beginning of a new chapter in this building, we naturally want to make our home more beautiful and functional, and this unfolded naturally without any new furniture or huge expense.
    It is said that around any Buddha, a Pure Land naturally springs up. An enlightened being will want to take care of whatever is around them – planting flowers, keeping things clean, respecting their surroundings. An enlightened being also sees the beauty in what is already there. Finally, an enlightened exudes wisdom and compassion, and so people around them will also move a little closer to enlightenment and will also want to take care of their environment with tenderness.
    Sometimes we can’t access any Buddha-energy, and we have to ‘fake it to make it’ – doing the washing up or painting a room because we know we’ll feel better when we’ve finished. Sometimes we are lucky enough to be a channel for the Buddha’s grace. When we are, little Pure Lands will spring up around us, and hanging out in them will make us as happy as I am in our new bedroom.

    Namo Amitabha.

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    For our water-dwelling friends

    Categories: Uncategorised

    Dharma Glimpse by Maria Chumak

    As an opening I’m going to confess of being pescatarian – so I have relinquished eating any meat but I do eat fish. We all have something to work on!

    On our recent holiday Steve and I went to a seaside town Barmouth in Wales. There’s apparently quite a few seafood restaurants there, so we went to one on our last evening in town. Steve had trout and I had crab, and having eaten our meals (which were lovely by the way), we found ourselves staring at the remains of what we have eaten, feeling quite guilty. It was quite a revelation for me as I thought I’d come to terms with my diet a long while ago. Perhaps the psychology of seeing a full fish or crab cooked like that made our empathy stronger. I even progressed to reading a bit about crabs, their ways of socialising and complex communication methods.

    Even though I haven’t yet committed in my mind to going fully vegetarian/ vegan after this experience – it can be quite challenging given how much I eat “on the go” – I have certainly given a lot of thought to the preciousness of all life. I have considered trying to find alternative protein sources in my diet as much as possible and also paying attention to whether or not these foods are responsibly sourced. So much is said about the harm of animal farms and animal hunting, but here’s my little word to the preciousness of our water-dwelling friends!

    Namo Amida Bu 🙏

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    Dharma Gardening: Life and Death in Suburbia

    Categories: Uncategorised

    by Chris Earle-Storey

    I’m busy digging over a corner section of my garden. I haven’t quite decided what to do with it; I have a vague idea of a small pond, or perhaps some more plants to attract the bees and butterflies. The ground is heavy with clay and so digging is hard work. I also have to keep stopping to move the numerous earthworms and other small beasts that appear as I dig. 

    The late afternoon sun is warm on my back and I take regular pauses to rest and watch our new neighbours, a family of blue tits who’ve set up home in one of the bird boxes on the side of our house. The parent birds flit backwards and forwards, tending to their new brood; I can hear frantic cheeps coming from the box every time one of the adult birds arrives with more food. It’s good to have a family back in the bird box after a couple of quiet years.

    I return to my digging. I thrust the fork into the ground, turn the soil… and notice I have cut an earthworm in half with the fork. The two halves wriggle and I vaguely recollect reading that worms can survive being severed, but maybe that’s an old wives’ tale as this one does not fare well. As I stand and watch helplessly as the unfortunate worm dies, two thoughts come to mind. The first is that it is so very hard to keep the Precedents, in this particular case the wish not to take life – for I have indeed taken this little life, albeit unintentionally. The second thought is of the Buddha and his childhood experience of watching small creatures unearthed by the plough and being eaten, and how deeply affected he was by witnessing life’s suffering.

    I go back to my digging but it is as if the sun has gone behind a cloud. How could the death of one small creature affect me so much?

    Later, as the light of the day is fading and the poor worm has passed from my thoughts, I go out to fill the hedgehog feeding bowls and top up the bird feeders. As I do so, I notice there are two blackbirds on the freshly dug patch of ground, pecking amongst the soil for juicy bugs and other morsels disturbed by my digging. As the Buddha recognised, life and death are inextricably bound together. Some creatures die so that others can live. This is the joy and sadness of our samsara experience. In my garden, as everywhere, the circle of birth, life and death continues.

    As I head back indoors I pause to look at the changing colours of the sunset. It seems particularly beautiful tonight. I am swept by a sudden acknowledgement of the richness of our Mother Earth in all its beauty and suffering.

    Namo Amida Bu.

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