A Bodhisattvas Christmas Carol: Part 6 - Stave 5: Christmas Day, Spiritual Rebirth and Amitabha

Hi everyone, great to see you again and wow, a few new faces, excellent! How kind of you to bring your friends! Firstly, my most sincere apologies for being slightly behind schedule with this penultimate instalment. What with visiting family in Wales, trying to do various bits of shopping and receiving a few visitors in the evenings, I confess I have struggled to get to my laptop, but such is the Holiday Season, and it's so important to engage with others for it's own reward, not out of obligagion. We have to be kind to ourselves at what can be a very stressful time of year for many, but the sweetly smelling and the bedazzling emotional and financial maelstrom that is Christmas does provide an interesting opportunity to practice that which we have been discussing in this series. 

Notwithstanding, I also would like to take the opportunity to thank everyone who has taken the time to feed back their appreciation and support for this series and this blog in general, especially the people (you know who you are) who have offered to help me get an agent and a publisher for "A Bodhisattva's Christmas Carol". Your desire to see this turned into a book and belief in my capacity as a writer to do so is unexpected and I'm really touched by all the re-shares on social networking sites etc. You know what? I'm gonna do it, going to not only try and get this published in hard copy and available in the shops and online in time for next Christmas, but  also to make 2014 the year when I make writing my career, professionally! 

The Dharma-Farmer at work, Dec 2013... Daunted but amongst friends... I love you all so much!

It is pretty scary, but exhilarating to think of such a thing, and gives me a great goal to work on which won't be affected by my poor ill-health and general lack of mobility. So, I guess The Dharma Farmer is heading to press, and on that note, I suppose I'd really appreciate any help and support you feel you can offer along the way. I love writing, but have no idea how to go about the rest of it, so if you feel like you want to support me in this dream, I'd be so grateful, I couldn't even put in into words. Messages and comments, your own thoughts, your own experiences, even if you just post the link to a few friends, the more exposure my work gets, the more regular traffic I get through here, the better my chances of securing a publishing and distribution deal. I've already been approached by advertisers looking to post their solicitations on here, but I quickly disregarded the idea as morally reprehensible. 

Somerset Maugham (1874-1965)
 sought to convey the inner turmoil of Man through short stories,
novels and plays, the JK Rowling of the 20's, 30's and 40's.

Bill Bryson, OBE (1951-present)
consistently hilarious and informative,
I implore you to read his work!

Brad Warner - (1965-present):
Sōtō Zen priest, author, blogger, documentarian and
punk rock bass guitarist!

I wish, to as great an extent as possible, to try and forge a career as a writer without any fiscal carrots being dangled before me, for it's own sake. I want to keep my motivation for writing pure! I don't want to make any real money from this, just enough to stay warm, fed and within reach of a power socket. That's all I need in life, materially speaking. Shelter, warmth, food and clothing (the last one is an optional extra). Anything else is a bonus or possibly surplus to requirements. If I can get this exploration of A Christmas Carol published, then I will be donating the vast majority of the proceeds to charity, probably one that works with the homeless at this time of year. I don't mind going without so long as others worse off than me don't have to. I have no idea if I/we can do this, but a lot of you seem to believe in me... I choose to believe in the power of us, as a collective. If this is to happen, if I am to make any progress in the steps of my literary heros (Bill Bryson, Brad Warner, Somerset Maugham, and within the Triratna Buddhist movement, Sangharakshita, Vishvapani, Subhuti etc) then I know that I can't make it happen just by writing alone. For me to manifest a similarly striking and radical change in my life as Scrooge did, I'll need your help, dear reader, and would never be so ignorant or arrogant as to assume otherwise. I need to stay receptive to being taught, and hearing some hard truths about areas of improvement. Speaking of lessons being hard, has Scrooge changed in light of his journey?

"I am here: the shadows of the things that would have been, may be dispelled. They will be. I know they will!''' Scrooges delights in being able to change his future, but could we today be more grateful for the oft-overlooked gift that each dawn heralds: the chance to turn it all around in the here and now?

 Straight away we spot that the final stave is called "The End of It", signifying that this the end of Scrooges initial transformation but not the end of the story, as we shall see. Scrooge is about to emerge as a whole new creature, a testimony to Darwinian, to the "Higher Evolution of Mankind itself." Most importantly, this is the end of it, the end of the greed, the ignorance to the reality of life, to the end of animosity in his heart. The the blinkers which limited his view of the world have been torn apart, the chains of self-grasping shatter in the light of that "cold cold" December's morn. His world perspective has been radically altered for good - he simply can't slip back into his old ways now! Here we can see provided a very obvious parallel with the 'None-Returners' and the 'Arahants' of the early Pali cannon (or scriptures); the former being disciples of the Buddha who had made so much progress that their momentum prohibited any form of regression, the latter constituting those who experienced Enlightenment in the presence/time of the historical Buddha. Of the two, Scrooge could be considered the Non-Returner, as although not a fully enlightened being at this stage, his intellectual, rational mind would cause his new emotional understanding to deepen and manifest in an unassailable upwards spiral of progress as the years go by (but more on that in the final chapter, next time). Judging from his actions on this crisp, bright Christmas Day 170 years ago, he is well on the way to Sainthood.

From the triumphant "Yes!" at the opening of the scene, the sense of relief is palpable in Scrooges euphoria. Dickens summarises the story in one line, a microcosm of Scrooge's journey, and explains the changes to be made too:

"...the bedpost was his own. The bed was his own, the room was his own. Best and happiest of all, the Time before him was his own, to make amends in!

'I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future!' Scrooge repeated, as he scrambled out of bed. 'The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. Oh, Jacob Marley! Heaven, and the Christmas Time be praised for this! I say it on my knees, old Jacob, on my knees!'

He was so fluttered and so glowing with his good intentions, that his broken voice would scarcely answer to his call. He had been sobbing violently in his conflict with the Spirit, and his face was wet with tears."  

Newly integrated, he sees the world with Akshobian clarity without any attachment to it. He is physically moved by the overwhelming gratitude at a chance of redemption, and we can see for the first time him externalising positive emotions in the world of the living. The emotional positivity that he exudes is down to his insight into the transience of life and this new level of awareness manifests in his taking immense delight in things he was too self-absorbed to notice before, as exemplified noticing his own door knocker:

"I shall love it, as long as I live!'' cried Scrooge, patting it with his hand. ``I scarcely ever looked at it before. What an honest expression it has in its face! It's a wonderful knocker!" 

His gratitude is obvious, for the first time he is able to view the world with the same wide-eyed wonder which we discussed as the start of our expedition. Life has come alive to him, and the change is spellbinding as he moves from appropriation to a life of appreciation, a life of more refined beauty, in which Dickens describes the morning as. "Cold, cold! Golden sunlight; Heavenly sky; sweet fresh air; merry bells. Oh, glorious. Glorious!" He fumbles with his clothes, unable to control his excitement at the gift of redemption and insight we all owe to ourselves, past, present and future, to try an open up to:

   "'I don't know what to do!' cried Scrooge, laughing and crying in the same breath; and making a perfect Laocoon of himself with his stockings. 'I am as light as a feather, 

I am as happy as an angel, I am as merry as a schoolboy. I am as giddy as a drunken man. A merry Christmas to everybody! A happy New Year to all the world!"

No longer proud or conceited, his exalted states manifest themselves spontaneously and his almost- involuntary dancing about renders shaving hazardous, although "if he had cut the end of his nose off, he would have put a piece of sticking-plaister over it, and been quite satisfied."

The famous "Window scene" is the most memorable in the story, and with good reason...

The famous incident at the window ("What's to-day, my fine fellow?") is the first example of the discerning wisdom of Amitabha's deep and profound love shining forth in this stave, but by no means the last. Whilst Ratnasambhava whispers that all beings are deserving of love and care on a fundamental level, going further, Amitabha recognises that the needs of each being are unique and circumstantial, as exemplified by Scrooge's miraculous rebirth this day. His exclamations of "What a delightful boy... A remarkable boy!" is the first time we have ever heard him pay anyone a compliment, and reminds us how even acts of kindness and generosity as small as this is so, often neglected by us all on a daily basis, can mean so much to other people, illustrated so movingly by Dickens over and over again in this final stave. 

Scrooge meets with many people that morning; his housekeeper Mrs. Dilber, who assumes that he has lost his mind (such is the change in him), the small boy, the poulterer (providers of poultry of biblical proportions, evidently) and the charity collector from the afternoon before. What's interesting here is that he treats each ad everyone differently, but all with the same love and kindness (and contrite apology, if required). For those who were victims of his cruelty, his humility and honesty is sincere, and shows ongoing integration on his part, as the model would suggest. Importantly for us, he doesn't try to explain, rationalise, contextualise or excuse his appalling behaviour, something our ego will always try to do when we have to face up to and take responsibility for our past unskilful, hurtful, selfish ways. The exchanges with the charity collector and Fred in particular are so vital to the psychological realism of the character. To see the "portly gentleman" causes Scrooge to feel the pain of remorse sharply but he holds firm in his convicions and honours his spiritual insight:

"It sent a pang across his heart to think how this old gentleman would look upon him when they met; but he knew what path lay straight before him, and he took it." 

Again, if this isn't the response of someone both fully "tuned into" his current experience, and fully changed of heart, I don't know what is! Admirably, we witness Scrooge displaying a hitherto unknown level of skilful ethical determination and please also note that Dickens keeps the amount  donated by Scrooge to the gentleman a secret between them only. We always must be mindful of the insidious yawning chasm between doing good for the sake of itself, and acting out of the ego's subconscious vanity and conceit. The aspiring Bodhisattva doesn't differentiate between the good of themselves and the good of others, they just engage with pure awareness, delighting in the opportunities as they present themselves, like an elephant playfully bounding from one cool lotus-pool to the next. Again, illustrating Dickens' intention to set the best example, this is a sadly missed point in most people's recollection of the story, and another reason I chose to write on the subject. The collector's astonishment at what have must been a seizable figure is commendably hushed away by Scrooge as unimportant in the bigger scheme of things, the matter of wider human suffering and the desperate need for social change in Victorian (and modern) times; if you recall, the gentleman was collecting to house and feed those unable to do so by their own meagre means:

"`If you please,'' said Scrooge. ``Not a farthing less. A great many back-payments are included in it, I assure you. Will you do me that favour?... Don't say anything, please!''

We can help those already helping others, and I'm sure some of you wonderfully generous folk already donate to charities on a regular basis, or support their activities in other small ways. If so, good for you! We can't change the world, just the way we see it. What's important is that we have the tools to start to experience a genuine and kind-hearted warmth towards our fellow brothers and sisters on this planet. "Take what you need and give what you can." is our motto in Triratna. 

This Christmas, or indeed at any time of the year, that we give to each other at all, be it our time, our energy, love, reassurance, bravery or patience, as well as material representations of this, THAT is what matters, not the amount which we can spare. We are all of different means, and that's ok, that's life. Scrooge, now a man of 'means', metaphorically, spiritually and literally speaking, is ecstatically happy to give. He wants to give, he rejoices in it's merits, and gives repeated thanks for the opportunity to both make amends and (more importantly) respond to the cries of the world. He sees how it is well overdue, and such is the picture painted of the brand-new 'old-man' that afternoon, walking the streets and falling in love with life again that merely recalling it brings a lump to my throat. His twinkling eyes in the snow, experiencing the weight of his body and the cold air on his cheeks. He talks to small children, beggars, treating each with love, kindness, and, it must be stressed, great spirits. His radiant expression of joy at seeing beauty and feeling connected and love for the first time in years leaves me in no doubt that Dickens is unknowingly alluding to those four "sublime abodes" I mentioned earlier in this journey. These, to recap, were equanimity, joy in the happiness of others, loving-kindness and compassion, of which, the loving-kindness or 'metta' (in Pali) of Amitabha is the most obvious:

"He went to church, and walked about the streets, and watched the people hurrying to and fro, and patted children on the head, and questioned beggars, and looked down into the kitchens of houses, and up to the windows: and found that everything could yield him pleasure. He had never dreamed that any walk -- that anything -- could give him so much happiness. In the afternoon he turned his steps towards his nephew's house."

Amitabha, "The One of Infinite Love"

In our mandala of the Five Buddhas, Amitabha is the Buddha of the West, and who's name translates as "The One of Infinite Warmth" or "Infinite Light". Just as Ratnasambhava embodies open-palmed generosity in the face of equality or sameness, so Amitabha is seen to embody love, warmth and compassion in the Wisdom of Ultimate Discernment, or particularity. This emotional counterpoint to the wisdom of the other Buddhas brings equilibrium to the mandala, and enables the discerning individual to see all things as both the same and unique, simultaneously. Each being is a result of a incalculable combination of conditions, in fact, becoming ever more unique from second to second, and Amitabha is the antithesis of attempts to live a spiritual life with a 'one-size-fits-all' approach. On a very real, practical level, we are not all equal, all the same. We all have differing tastes, preferences, ways of interpreting the world and ways of manifesting our desires or cravings, all specific to each and every one of us. Even on a deeper level, I can't be certain, for example, that the shade of red I perceive in the image above looks exactly the same to you. Obviously, on a basic level, all the six senses (taste, touch, smell, sight, hearing and mental perception) are subjective, and no two people would experience a bowl of soup identically in either appearance, weight, taste, smell or by associations. We are organic beings, we are not just pre-programmed automatons hard-wired to launch DNA at each other, and Amitabha's loving, steady gaze bears this truth out. He is traditionally a deep red, like the final embers of a sunset, suggestive of platonic or fraternal love and compassion that shines on all equally. 
His symbol of the lotus is representative of our ever-unfolding path, of our opening up to this pure, more refined love as we circumambulate the mandala and start to feel that warmth diffuse through us. 

By discrimination and discernment, we mean not just an intellectual understanding, but a deep emotional realisation, based upon one's own reflections and ever deepening spiritual realisations. We know the result of hands on hot stoves, and therefore abstain based on a deeply held understanding, a deeper knowing than pure rational conjecture. That's the type of level we aught to be aiming for, to deeply understand the incomparable beauty that lies in all of our hearts, and to feel kindly and compassionately towards it. Through it's capacity to see things as they truly are, this pure facet of the Enlightened mind is able to convert sensory craving and attachment, and is far from being schmaltzy or dripping with an undue, doughy-eyed sentimentality. This is a concrete understanding on a supra-rational level, which generates a deep and sacred love of all life for its uniqueness, not for what may be gained via the senses. An acknowledgement of our idiomatic humanity and tastes should not lead one to further exacerbate our dualistic craving, grasping and aversion. We can't well say with one breath that we love all life on this planet, but still hold prejudices against certain groups based on superficial differences. 

In fact, in his excellent book, "The Path of the Inner Life", Bhante (an Indian name for a spiritual 'teacher') Sangharakshita wrote that the path of deeper spiritual realisation involves gradually becoming:

"indifferent to the objects of perception... arising out of [an attitude of] renunciation. If the aspirant can resist the solicitations of the objects of perception, and turn their senses, as it were, inside-out like the five fingers of a glove, in the reversing of their direction, they will merge into a single inner sense, and with this subtle inner sense, they will be able to perceive spiritual realities."

By training the mind to turn it's attention inwards and savour the joys of inner experience rather than just relying on external ones. We can slow down a bit and feel less painfully drawn about by all this choice and advertiser's nose-ring, like an animal to market, and instead replace it with the delight born of a greater sense of connection with others, one of the true joys of the human condition. Amitabha expresses this lessening of our grasping nature, this withdrawing of our energies from the fleeting world of sensory gratification with the aesthetically beautiful image of the sun slipping below the horizon as we bask in the final, burnished remnants of the day. This is why he appears in the Western quadrant of the mandala. But could he hold a special significance for us in the geographical (or 'social') West today? 

I'd rather not, but thank you...

We can be addicted to gossip too...

Western society, due to developments in advertising seems to be characterised by material, emotional and even sometimes spiritual craving and greed, even more so than elsewhere in Samsara (the frustrating every-day mundane world, profane, material world). Our culture seems to be based on acquisition and upgrading, "I, me, me, mine!" as the Beatles sang, keeping us hooked with constantly new phones, films, McTemtations and bands. American supermarkets (and increasingly, European one's too) personify the suffering of choice. How many times when buying food on the go or in a restraunt have we felt a bit lost in the face of all the abundance and head-spinning variant of toppings, fillings or 'extras'? Sometimes I just want a cheese sandwich and a black coffee, dammit! We tread water in the exhaustive and exasperating plethora of daily decisions we have to make in a multiple choice society, and never more so than ever before in Man's evolution. 

The synonyms of the word 'craving' reveal it's disconcerting, painful and undesirable nature; 'thirst', 'lust', 'burning', 'hunger', 'addiction' and 'pining' are not readily associated with free and easy states of mind. Thankfully, Amitabha's association with the extinguishing off these torturous flames, born of his capacity to discern things for what they really are is so powerful that it is naturally seen as the antidote to the ceaseless cravings of the hungry ghosts (or pretas) in the Wheel of Life. 

The swolen-bellied, patheticly-mouthed "Hungry Ghosts' or 'Pretas'-
unlike the spirits of Marly's visitation, these creature wail in anguish at the pain of never being able to satisfy their own thirst and hunger... Sounds horrific, but do we share more traits with them than we'd care to admit...? 

They themselves, with their insatiable neurotic hunger and underdeveloped mouths represent the torment of unendingly frustrated greed or an unslakable thirst. Amitabha transforms these corrosive desires in us through the contentment of meditative absorption, urging us to rein in our scattered energies and focus them on the spiritual realities and mysteries within, again, of which the sun melting into the western horizon is both representative and a great source of such inspiration. Perhaps his message to us in the West is to try and break the habit of constantly chasing sensory experience over a multiplicity of conflicting desires? What Amitabha whispers to us is a gentle and loving reminder to stop mindlessly devouring things and each other, step back from it all and ask ourselves if there might not be more to life than mental and physical consumption, especially if you can't take any of it with you and will be of no use to you on your death bed, should you be so lucky as to get one. 

In his memoirs, Bhante explains that an axial moment of his life came in 1947 whilst still living in Southern India when, during meditation, he was suddenly privy to a very intense vision, in which Amitabha was holding up and extending a red lotus to him. 

"The colour of the Buddha was a deep, rich, luminous red, like that of rubies, though at the same time soft and glowing, like a setting sun...and he sat, in the usual cross-legged posture, on an enormous red lotus that floated on the surface of the sea... It was more wonderful, more appealing, than any earthly red: it was like red light, so soft, but at the same time, so vivid as to be altogether without parallel... How long the experience lasted, I do not know, for I seemed to be out of time as well as out of body... but the experience itself never faded. Nearly a quarter of a century later, the figure of the Red Buddha is as clear to me, in recollection, as it was the next morning... "   

Sangharakshita (centre) on his formal Ordination day.
Kusinagar, May 12th 1949.

Amitabha himself is virtually never depicted in anything but the meditation position, his hands forming the 'Dhyana' mudra or gesture (folded in his lap again as in meditation) and, fully aware of the significance of this, he took it as a highly auspicious sign that now finally was the time for the young man from London to leave the realm of sense-desires (the kama-loka), and unfold the red lotus of his inner contemplation within his heart. It was finally time to ask for formal Ordination! Now, with the vision of Amitabha in his heart and mind, once more he immediately set forth on foot and walked over 1000 miles to Kushinagar (the site of the Buddhas death) where two years later in 1949 he was ordained as a Sramanera or novice Buddhist monk. He was 24 years old by then, and had been living the life of the homeless ascetic wanderer on the roads of India for over two years. Prior to that, he had absconded from the British army at the end of WWII amidst the chaos and violence that sadly marked the birth of modern, newly independent India. After a twenty years of "working for the good of Buddhism" in the Himalayan foothills, he returned to London for permanently, and in 1967 the Western Buddhist Order was establish. Were it not for this vision of Amitabha, 66 years ago, this blog would not exist, and I would almost certainly be either dead by now or making concerted efforts towards it. Such was the significance of his decision to formally seek ordination, being as it was a deeper manifestation of his own Going For Refuge (to the Three Jewels), that in the Manchester Buddist Centre (MBC), the rupa or statue in our main shrine hall is in fact a representation of this vision. As someone who considers myself a devotee and disciple of Sangharakshita's, for this reason Amitabha and the Manchester Buddhist Centre shall forever hold a special place in my heart.

Our Amitabha statue/rupa in the MBC, beautifully decorated in celebration of
Sangha Day 2013

In the context of the Enlightened mind, the wisdom of Amitabha perceives objects as distinct and differing, but against a backdrop of sameness, reminding us again how we accumulate, aggregate and grow out of each of the five stages into the next. The vision of Amitabha reassures us that our craving, from the inner dimension of our experience to the outside world, can be thus reversed and transformed into contentment and love through meditative practice and allowing the lotus in our hearts to flush with 'Agape' or non-Eros (non-erotic) love. In the Far East, he is associated with the "Pure Land" of Sukhavati, analogous to the Christian conception of heaven, a non-polarised world of androgyny, which prevents sexual dimorphism. There us no anger, no mad lust, no grasping or craving, simply the freedom to do nothing but sit on a lotus and listen to Amitabha expound the Dharma. For medieval Japanese society wherein this belief originated, this would indeed have been heaven, and to this day there still survive a few schools who's entire system of practice is based around this radiant crimson figure.

Sangharakshita's description of the process of radical transformation seems to bear striking resemblance to the path that Scrooge had trodden over the course of this book, and now seems to be manifesting as a one would expect, were you to be so brazen as attempt some kind of cross-cultural-psycho-spiritual-literary-analysis:

"The path of the higher evolution, the spiritual path is divided into two great stages. It's divided into what we call the Darsana Marga or the Path of Wisdom, and into the Bhavana Marga or the Path of Transformation. The Path of Wisdom represents the initial spiritual experience or insight, or vision, at the heights of one's being, and Bhavana Marga, the Path of Transformation represents the gradual transformation of ones whole being in all its aspects in accordance with that original insight and or vision."

A Sister and fellow Sangha member makes an offering during a puja (devotional ceremony) in the MBC Lotus Hall - another Amitabha reference. Note the lotus upon which he sits, representing the unfolding and opening of the heart to higher states of metta, compassion and love, the lifeblood of the Triratna Order, with whom my friends and I practice.

As I've said, it looks like we are in it for the long run. That's the 'problem' with wanting to change our lives around. Once we recognise that we can change, and we can clearly see why we it might be of practical use to oneself and others, then if we are in any way humanistically inclined, ultimately we really have to. This isn't something we can just walk away from, no matter how much we might like to, on rare occasions. Once we've tasted that freedom from ourselves and our addiction to the "Me Show", it's impossible to forget. We don't have a choice. Well, apart from directly going against the flow and hurting each other, or alternatively just drift along through life, eyes half shut, asleep to the true wonder of the world. Not much of  choice though, is it? It really is a rather extraordinary place, but as they say, familiarity breeds contempt. And that is applicable for us too. If we stay too long trapped in the same job, the same house, the same relationship, the same personality, diet or mood even, with nothing seeming to change or grow, we feel trapped. We feel like we are stagnating, drowning, "Crushed under the Weight of the Enormous Bullshit", to quote the memorable and sadly-missed British hardcore band, Rueben. You know what? I've had worse 'problems'.

Bill Hicks said it most memorably for me:

"I think it's interesting the two drugs that are legal - alcohol and cigarettes, two drugs that do absolutely nothing for you at all, but are taxable, are legal, and the drugs that might open your mind up to realise how you're being fucked every day of your life? Those drugs are against the law. Coincidence? See, I'm glad mushrooms are against the law, cos I took 'em one time, you know what happened to me? I laid in a field of green grass for four hours, going, 'My God, I love everything.' Yeah, now if that isn't a hazard to our countries...How are we gonna justify arms dealing if we know we're all one?"

As discussed, we have levels of truth, from provisional to absolute, rendering comedians and thinkers
such as the late Bill Hicks able to both "love all the people, all the time", and also express frustration at unskilful behaviour within that. I believe denying children educational materials on Darwinism is a breech of human rights.

If we, on perches never loftier, can't learn to feel warmth and eventually love ourselves in spite of our shortcomings (with a view to transforming them into gold), then what chance to we have of being able to extend the hand of friendship to our fellow occupants of the world we all live in? I prefer to see it as a pithy truism, rather than a cliche, and people say it not without good cause. If we can start to withdraw from the world of sensory pleasures then we can lessen our attachment to them. We will feel less swayed hither and thither by a world seemingly obsessed with one-up-manship and the social prestige of having this pair of shoes over another, or this bottle of wine over that one. When we feel less swayed, more stable, we can be more receptive to feelings of kindness in our hearts and and the miracle of our ongoing and comically short lives. Like Scrooge, we really aught to delight and embrace the chance to be reborn every day. We just need to put in place the conditions to be most supportive of our highest aspirations, whatever they may be. 

So, with one more chapter in this verse needing writing before Christmas Day, I best be off. I can see another all-nighter looming, and wish to extend kindness to myself now more than ever. I shall leave you with the inspirational image of Scrooge finally sitting down to his first ever Christmas with his family and friends-to-be, or strangers as we insist on calling each other. In the life-giving warmth and restorative glow of Amitabha's love, everyone is special, every being sacred, every life on this earth precious. Strangers? Nothing could be less strange than our urge to immerse ourselves in the aesthetic and divine pleasures within in order to connect to, and share such wordless treasures unhesitatingly with our fellow "travellers to the grave". There is no need to kick-out in disgust and supercilious resentment at advertising or consumerism - we are all just trying to do the best we can with what resources we have available. It's the prerogative of all life on this planet. Rather than mindlessly chase the ungraspable and temporary baubles that are temptingly dangled before our very eyes, we can instead learn to see them with new eyes, rising above temptation with a well mannered smile and a heart free from the corrosion of judging those less able to break/aware of their conditioning. We can develop a healthy appreciation of our tiny place in this wide-skied world of wonder, and furthermore, our limitless capacity to do good in this in spite of our short stay makes any act of kindness sacred. 

With such Amitabha-esque, all-encompasing, discerning love flowing through us, we can easily let go of out old ways and be 'reborn' minute by minute, day by day. Like old Ebeneezer, this Christmas we can try and be kinder to ourselves and others, and dropping into that place of quiet beauty, rest and soothe our weary bodies and minds in the bespoke tropical waterfalls and far-flung universes of each others hearts... 

Yours, in Metta, with a hug and a twinkle in his eyes,
The Dharma-Farmer xx

May any merit gained in my acting thus be dedicated to the welfare, the benefit and the emancipation of all.