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.

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 🙏

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.

Dharma Glimpse by Dayamay Dunsby

I am beginning to explore the possibility of dating again, after a long period of celibacy and recovery from compulsive patterns, some of which are related to relationships both platonic and romantic.

This effort to consciously engage with prospective partners has opened up a whole new dimension in my encounters with women.

A once dormant part of me has apparently re-awoken. It is partly exciting and fun, yet also overwhelming and confusing. It has brought me face to face with some of my conditioned behaviours that have developed, from a very early age, and helped me to see how they have contributed to chaotic and painful outcomes in my attempts to have healthy and fulfilling relationships.

The matter of relationships has always been loaded for me. My internal complexities have often dominated and overpowered my good intentions in one way or another, creating a kind of feedback effect that can be excruciating if you don’t know what’s happening. There can be confusion on both sides of the relationship, as unseen and unconscious impulses dictate the direction and tone of the union, leaving you both bitter and confused when it goes wrong for no apparent reason.

Buddhism has helped me to see and understand that I have an innate tendency to either grasp at things because I like them or push them away because they pose some kind of threat. Relationships with other humans have the potential to activate both of these behaviours in me. I crave the attention and stimulation of being around nice people, yet my psychological wounding can prevent me from letting them get too close, which can cause all sorts of confusion and misunderstanding.

As a devotional practitioner and recovering compulsive, my primary relationship has to be with Amida. Everything else has to grow out of it or in conjunction with it.

I am, after all, a foolish being of wayward passions. I think I know what I want but when I get it it can feel like too much and trigger me into destructive ways. And, my foolishness is in some ways integral to my faith, in that it is the basis for my seeking a power greater than myself; the catalyst which transforms my karmic mess into dharmic grace. Of course, it’s never quite as neat as that and often includes deep suffering, but the lesson is in proceeding in a conscious way, whilst paying attention to the currents of synchronicity that weave themselves around our hope’s, fears and desires.

Namo Amida Bu

Dharma Glimpse by Dayamay Dunsby

A moment of reflection on a beach recently, in the presence of turbulent weather, gave me an insight into the more primal aspects of my processes. I was contemplating a recent development in my life, which brings both great joy and great doubt and concern.

I noticed that the waves had a particularly powerful energy, like some unseen hand thrashing around in the murky depths, causing friction and disquiet on the surface. It looked like I felt. Deep currents of foreboding and uncertainty, breaking into the light from a realm in me that seems unknowable.

Somehow I took great comfort from this experience. Maybe nature affirming my present orientation, assuring me that, come what may, I am where I need to be.

I love the Buddhist idea that Samsara, the cycle of birth and suffering and Nirvana, ultimate reality are essentially one and the same. The travails of the suffering realms are said to be like ripples on the great ocean of the unconditioned. Facilitating the conversion of anguish and confusion into wisdom and happiness.

Namo Amida Bu( :

Dharma Glimpse by Karmadeva (Andrew Nicholls)

Compassion is at the heart of Buddhist philosophy, often referred to as Metta. The word is from Pali and means positive energy and kindness toward others. This should always be part of the practice of anyone wanting to live the Buddhist life. 

My work is with a charity in Birmingham, we offer support to people with mental health problems and give them the tools they need to recover and get on with their lives. My role is participation, I love my work and find it rewarding. To work with people from all walks of life, different backgrounds, cultures and beliefs. I’m not being egotistical when I say that I feel I’m good at my job, but believe I do make a difference to many people. Recently I’ve been getting various ideas from one of the people I work with. A man who receives services and has become more involved. He can be quite negative about our working practices and to a certain extent has annoyed me. To be truthful I thought it would be so much easier if he just stopped complaining about things and looked a little more positively at what we do. Then I remembered something one of my Buddhist teachers once told me, a koan, he said when I sat telling him about all the wonderful ideas I had of working with some homeless people. Do they want this then? He told me tge story of a man and his daughter in China, they had been to a nearby well and collected water for the family and we’re carrying it home on their shoulders. The older man fell, tge buckets spilling and him lying on the floor. He looked up T his daughter and stretched out his hand. @help me up” he said to her. With that the daughter threw her water on the ground and fell on the ground next to her father. The question to think about why did she do this? How would she understand the help her father needs without seeing the situation from his perspective.

So after reflection on this I thought of the service user and his complaints. What makes him complain, past experience of not being listened to? A true desire to make a change for his peers? So is it about attacking me or my organisation? Or about his needs. I’ve asked him for a meeting and have reassured him that I want his valuable participation. The meeting will be about how we can support him and how we can make things better from his opinion. May not be able to do all he wants, but I’ve listened and tried to give him guidance. I will do what I can to show love and kindness. In keeping with my practice and using love and kindness to guide me rather than ego and delusions.


Metta

Dharma Glimpse by Maria Chumak

A colleague of mine once said that everybody was entitled to one big phobia in their lives. My husband Steve is petrified of snakes. My phobia is deep waters. 

I can’t swim (not properly anyway) and I’m absolutely terrified of drowning. My parents say this has actually nothing to do with water as such, but with a severe respiratory illness I had as a child, one I could have died of, had I not been brought to the hospital in time. So my brain manifested a fear of suffocating as a fear of drowning. I forced myself into a swimming school in my 20s to face it and they did teach me the basics, but in a way made my fear even worse. When all my friends went holidaying to the seaside, I’d hide away mountain hiking. I do appreciate the irony of the Universe in that I moved from landlocked mainland to live on an island - I used to get chills when flying over the Channel on a plane!

However, once moving here I made it my task to get to know the Sea. My relationship with it was complex - I admired its power and the vital role in pretty much all life and the ecosystem of our planet, and it also is just so gorgeously beautiful. But I was still petrified! So I travelled to various beaches around the country, from highly cultivated to the remote places in Wales, the little gaps in the cliffs you can only get to in low tide and with certain climbing skills. I went to the edge of the water, making deep breaths, and looked at the Sea. I listened to it. I learned about the tides and to anticipate the weather changes. It eventually culminated with me ending up in Aberystwyth during one nasty storm in 2020 just before the first lockdown, with 90 mph gales and waves all over the promenade. (You can see the photos attached!)

What I realise now, being by the Sea again at the moment in Pembrokeshire, is that our phobia should not be a Nemesis - it is in fact an opportunity to learn. Why do we fear what we fear? Can we mitigate it, turn it around? Can the irrational part be tuned down with more knowledge of the subject (like I never head out to wild beach walks without checking tide times)? In the end of the day fear is what we bring with us, it is inside us and not out there in this thing that we fear. I often meditate upon my fear and learn that there is a part of me that gets more and more fascinated with its subject, almost as if a part of me used to deny a whole raft of experiences because of it. Even though I still can’t swim!

Namo Amida Bu 🙏
Maria