Articles by congregation members:

Life and Death   

2001 started off really well for me.  I had got on top of all my Christmas debts, all was well and I was feeling rather smug with myself.  Then 2 weeks into February  a routine check-up led to a referral to the hospital for further investigation and treatment.  In less than a minute my contented life was turned upside down.  My mind was whirling with fearful thoughts which went racing off down a negative road, gathering momentum like a snow ball getting bigger and bigger.  I was totally unable to stop them and I had myself dead and buried by the end of the year. Every time I looked at my son I felt absolute despair and indescribable sorrow and pain.

I realized I had to get a grip on  these thoughts before they sent me totally mad.  It came to me that I should sit with this. I didn’t think this would be possible with the state that I was  in, but sit I did.

30 minutes passed in a flash and as I stood up the difference I felt was unbelievable. I was calm again and I felt a sort of reassurance that everything would be alright and this feeling stayed  for the rest of the day. The next day fearful thoughts returned along with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I sat again and all the anxiety disappeared. 

I am quite new to Buddhism and up until now, really struggled with meditation and the things it has shown me about myself which haven’t been pleasant, but it has been my saviour over this anxious time. I have since discovered that the  tests and treatment are  nothing serious to worry about. However I never want to forget those two nerve-wracking weeks, however painful they were.  I learnt many valuable lessons.  I realized how precious my life is and how much time I spend on trivial unimportant distractions.  “This body is as transient as dew on the grass, life passes as swiftly as a flash of lightening, quickly the body passes away, in a moment life is gone”, rings in my ears with an understanding not previously known.  Two weeks of deep reflection on my own mortality has brought a different feeling to my meditation and a fullness and richness to everything I do, however interesting or mundane.  Whilst still scared to death at the thought of my own death (there’s something for me to work on!), the whole experience has made Buddhism much more personal for me and, brought it closer to my heart.  I realize the truth found in the last line of the Sandokai “Do not waste time.” 

Jan Butler, Reading, March 2001.

 

Being there

Yesterday was a festival day at the Priory. It was the Parinirvana festival, commemorating the Buddha’s death. I attended the festival ceremony but just for a change didn't take an active part in it. It's quite a complicated ceremony with lots of candles being snuffed out and lights being turned off then them all being lit again, which requires a lot of coordination between various people in order to get the timing just right. These things are always fraught with difficulty. Anyone playing an active part in the ceremony can easily get the heebie jeebies. “What if I do the wrong thing at the wrong time and spoil the whole thing?” It really can be quite unsettling. I've been through this kind of thing many times myself and made a not quite conscious effort to try and conquer my fear. In fact what happened was I made many, many mistakes in various festivals and ceremonies and gradually realised that it didn't all fall apart and it would somehow be OK anyway.

What really helps in these situations though is to simply key into something deeper. In other words, just be there. It doesn't mean that I'm not going to make a mistake. I still do “make mistakes”. It just means that when it does go wrong I just note what I did and carry on to the next bit instead of tripping myself up at that point and being completely off balance for the rest of the ceremony. When it works right (and it doesn't always) the whole thing just seems to flow. The more complicated ceremonies rarely go exactly to plan. Even if you discount the fact that this is a room full of human beings with human failings, inanimate objects do often take on a life of their own to throw extra confusion into the mix.

I suppose what I am saying is that it is possible to go through these ceremonies with a meditative mind. When we do so, these little problems are just dealt with when they arise without us buying into the whole confusion. Each ceremony has its particular significance, some of which rings true with me and some of which is probably completely lost on me but as well as this, there is something quite enjoyable about the whole thing when I manage to penetrate the fears that surround this kind of public performance.

How is this relevant to daily life? Of course, being in a ceremony isn’t the same as what we do in our day to day life, or is it? It has taken me a few years to learn to find that centre while taking part in a ceremony and even now I don’t always get it right. I feel that finding the centre in daily life is the same thing, to let go of our preconceptions of how it must be and to not worry about how other people may be judging us. Only through deepening my practice through meditation can I achieve this.

Ian Cotton, Reading, April 2006.

 

Mountains and Molehills

Some recent thoughts relating to training and in particular the uncomfortable and fearful “stuff” that comes up from time to time. I have spent most of my life actively turning away and hiding/running from anything that has made me feel uncomfortable. Even though on one level I have always known what truly needs to be done (in terms of facing and not running), I have always settled for the warm and comfortable bed of ignorance. If someone had told me a couple of years ago that the “stuff” I had been trying to avoid so vigorously was the source of true freedom I would have laughed at them…funny how things turn out.

An aspect of training that has been highlighted for me recently is Awareness. Awareness of facing whatever arises in the mind directly and without fear, to almost go straight through it. Just this seemingly small act of turning and facing the “stuff” that scares me and letting it go has become a source of joy and gratitude. There is still sadness, pain, regret, guilt and at times joy but it seems to be a lot more fluid and less sticky, like it is passing through.

As I write this down it dawns on me that this process happens in the blink of an eye and goes hand in hand with faith and trust, for myself it feels like an offering. To really deeply offer up ones training for the benefit of all beings, to truly leap beyond all fear and taste true freedom.

More and more I have the courage to walk straight through the mountains of fear and realise that when seen with Awareness, the mountains are really nothing more than molehills.

Lee Upton, Reading, April 2006.