Glimpse by Khema

I may have mentioned this once or twice!!!! So in exactly 3 Months as of yesterday -on the 28th of June 2024? I’m going to retire and start drawing my pension. Eeak. And as I write this, it feels deeply strange, exciting, and really scary all rolled into one . I don’t feel old enough to be drawing my pension. In my mind I’m still about 27. I actually still can’t really believe it but yes it’s happening and on the 28th of June. I will be unemployed for the first time since I was 14 years old when I got my first weekend job in a cafe and then as a health care assistant in a local nursing home. I’m told I’m far too young to be retiring, I think I like people telling me that.

I ask myself, what am I going to do with all this spare time? Can I take up some new hobbies? I wonder about doing a course or three. Can I spend more time in my beloved garden and of course travel in Gloria, my campervan. No more trying to squeeze in a long weekend between appointments and meetings, working out how many annual leave days I’ve got left, who’s going to cover and then all those dreadful emails to go through on my return!!! This has been my life as a nurse since March 1989. I’ve worked hard to get where I am now, who will I be when I’m not that anymore? Will I feel different? `Will I regret this decision? Am I loosing part of my identity? 

In Buddhism we believe the only constant is change. Impermanence can lead to suffering as one fails to accept the continuously changing nature of the world or our world.
The law of impermanence is a fact of reality that cannot be changed; everything that comes to be eventually passes away. The Buddha teaches that the path to peace and joy requires that we embrace change rather than pine for permanence.

I originally wanted to return to my role part time and that would’ve been easy. Just cut down my hours and stay doing what I’m doing. But the big boss said no. They don’t want me and that has been something I wasn’t prepared for. On its most fundamental level, fear of change is fear of the unknown. There’s an immense amount of comfort to be found in routine, and when those routines are disrupted, many people feel anxious and destabilized. So how can I turn this around? How can I turn this uncertainty into joy? Should I see this is an opportunity to do something different? Embrace change. I may not have looked at it this way at all if I wasn’t backed into a corner, after all it’s easy to keep doing what you’re doing- staying within your comfort zone. Change can be scary but also a gift- perhaps one I didn’t know I needed. So watch this space…………retirement here I come.
NAB

Dharma Glimpse by Kokuu

My Zen friend Sarah told me about the Merlin app for identifying birdsong.  I live in a small village in east Kent and one day when I was sitting outside with the dogs, I opened the app to see what birds it would recognise.

The most interesting thing for me is that app identifies birds that I may not be able to see, and that afternoon it heard song from goldfinches, kestrels and long-tailed tits, none of which I can recall seeing in the area before.  A week earlier it identified the call of a little owl. 

Buddhism largely deals with the human condition of suffering as it was taught by the Buddha in his dharma, and this is practiced in a sangha of human beings.  However, One Earth Sangha is a Buddhist community I often practice with that focusses on the intersection of environmental issues and Buddhist practice and there, it is emphasised that the sangha is larger than we often think, and include other species, which they term ‘more than human’ beings. 

The more than human may be considered to include animals, plants, fungi and micro-organisms, but also rivers, mountains, rocks and the air.  Dogen, the founder of Soto Zen Buddhism in Japan reminds us that

the land, grasses and trees, fences and walls, tiles and pebbles, all things in
the dharma realm of the ten directions, perform the work of the buddhas

 
The birds I find using my app are definitely part of my more than human sangha, as are the oak trees that surround my flat, the squirrels that live in them, the grasses, sorrel, buttercups and other flowers than adorn the lawn, and the chalk rocks that this part of the country rests upon. 

Why is it important to consider our more than human sangha?  Firstly, I find that thinking about them makes me feel grateful for the trees, flowers, birds and soil of where I am, providing us with not just beauty but shelter, oxygen and food. 

Secondly, my actions impact on the more than human world, for good or ill, whether that is leaving seeds out for the birds and squirrels in the winter, using chemicals in the house which may find their way into the local water sources, or the mode of travel I choose to take. 

We are all interwoven in this world, in a cycle of giving and receiving, and however much we might like to think that human beings are special and separate from nature, we are not.  Going further, Buddhism would even say that as we drop our attachment to ideas of self and other, this lack of separation is laid bare.  Listening to bird calls may be a tiny step to seeing that, but it feels like a good one to take. 

Dharma Glimpse by Chris E-S

Looking out into our garden, it’s hard to believe that we are well into Spring. The borders are so wet that there is a natural water feature forming amongst the soggy roses and shrubs. Even the hardy daffodils seem to be struggling to survive this year. However, if it ever does stop raining, I look forward to welcoming the joy of Spring – and of socks.

There are many reasons why the arrival of Spring brings a lightness to my heart. The longer days; the warmer weather; the emergence of shoots, bulbs and blossom; the bursts of birdsong from the trees – all these are a source of happiness and hope for me. One other lovely thing that comes with Spring – albeit on drier days than we currently have – is the opportunity to hang out washing on the line again, after having used an indoor airer over the winter months. There is nothing quite like the smell of laundry that has been dried outdoors – a fresh, airy smell that no amount of indoor drying can replicate.

I have a routine for hanging out the washing, and I am particularly regimented when it comes to socks. All my socks are brightly coloured; I can’t abide boring socks and won’t have blue, black or grey unless they also have a bright pattern on them. I get a particular pleasure from pairing up the socks, smoothing them out and then hanging them side by side with matching pegs. Oh yes, the peg colours must complement the colours of the sock pairs: no glaring mis-matches allowed! On one occasion when I was ill, my husband did the laundry duty; whilst I was grateful for his efforts, I’m sorry to say that it pained me to see mis-paired socks and a complete lack of colour coordination of the pegs.

My husband thinks my laundry routine is just me being a bit weird. I think there is more to it than that, although I admit to being something of an oddball in some respects. I think behind the careful matching and hanging of the socks is an underlying wish to create a sense of order in what is essentially a disordered world, and – just as important – to create beauty out of something seemingly mundane. In a world of impermanence and change, where it seems I have so little control of what happens around and to me, as I stand and admire my laundry work of art, I derive a few moments of serenity and joy from my one small act of creating order and beauty.

As I look out at the rain-soaked garden, I imagine my brightly-coloured and patterned socks waving in a gentle Spring breeze and I can’t help but smile. We may live in a world of impermanence and dukkha, but if we look carefully we can always find calm, joy and beauty in even the smallest of things.

Namo Amida Bu.