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| It's hard to believe that a year has passed since my India Pilgrimage preparations. Nothing can prepare you for India, you just have to be brave, and it is both the greatest and worse place on earth, simultaneously. I cannot recommend the experience highly enough... |
Hey, thanks for popping by, so glad you made it. My, but doesn't time fly by? A year ago, I was in the final stages of pre-Pilgrimage preparations, readying myself practically and spiritually for sub-continental wanderings. It seems like only yesterday, and yet it could have been another lifetime. I'm such a different person now, in a very real sense I didn't go to India - he did, the man I used to be. I cast my mind back, and recall how 12 months ago, that guy would arise every day at 6am for 45 min of mediation, often sitting silently in the evenings too. Upon the cushions, his formal sitting practice was in a very deep, still, stable phase. I remember a sense of lightness and fluidity in my day-to-day experiences of life, and this kept me sane in the build up, I'm convinced. It was to be my first time out of Europe or on a long-haul flight, yet I was in no way phased by this.
I was more alive to the fact that I might not make it back in one or indeed any pieces. Death became a living reality for me, a timer counting down to an unspoken zero. A few years ago, the sister of my brother's best friend was killed in a car accident whilst touring around South America, and if it was my time to 'go' whilst out there, miles from 'home', and possibly at gun-point, I wanted to be prepared. As it happened, it proved to be time well spent. Before I even had a chance to be stabbed, mown down, poisoned accidentally or in any way find myself incapacitated by men in balaclavas, the flight to London from Manchester was delayed due to "computer problems" (bloody 'Windows' again?), rendering the pilots unable to ascertain as to whether the engines were on fire or not! Indeed there were also to be one or two VERY hairy moments on the Indian roads, statistically the most dangerous highways on earth. It's not hard to see why, and should you be planning to frequent them, assume that they will be populated by people who appear to have a genuine desire to die young. Generally though, I was single-pointedly focused East, and felt very peaceful when sitting with my imminent, and possibly literal departure.
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| Moments later, we were 'clipped' at 60 miles an hour by the jeep. I nearly shat myself lifeless. Having both nerves of steel and one's affairs in order helps a little, but not much... |
In stark contrast 12 months later, my formal sitting practice has had to take a bit of a back seat of late due to my back condition, but in spite of this I have rarely felt more loyal, committed or drawn to the Three Jewels. I also sit more easily in my skin. Even though I was in quite a heightened, exhaled state a lot of the time, I think on reflection I was far less integrated then I am now. Truth be told, I'm still trying to digest the experience, but boughs are beginning to bear fruit. As Refuges go, the Three Jewels have been a life-saver these last few years, nevermore so than of late, and to them I owe and dedicate my life. Nothing else makes any sense. No decision could be easier.
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| My first morning in India, after travelling and being awake for 59 hours... yes, I look tired. |
Most people, when they ask about the basic principles of Buddhism dismiss my answers as 'simply common sense'. When I explain how the principles of causality work, they agree it accords with their perceptions of reality; actions do have consequences, and those consequences do go on to form the basis for further actions and so on. Yet when it comes down to actually combining causality with these basic principles, and implementing some of these universally accepted truths in their lives, suddenly there is a massive drama and suffering arises as we flip the 'struggle switch' on. Unsurprisingly, I am often both parties in this conversation, and like most practitioners, find it easier to preach than practice. Why is this? Why this problem of putting into action what we know to be best for us? Why the discrepancy between our intellectual postulations and our emotional responses to life? It's maddeningly frustrating at times, but how can we kindly motivate ourselves to actually reduce this seemingly yawning chasm between our ideals and their practical application?
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| Myself and a fellow pilgrim, Dharmamitra Claire Morris, on a train from Nagpur to Sanchi. We would go onto share many special moments over the Pilgrimage, and are closer than close now. |
The expression of my gratitude for the coming across this path in a meaningful way, and my confidence in it manifests in what is called "Going For Refuge". That is all it takes to consider oneself a Buddhist. How wonderfully simple! Bill Hicks was right - "It's just a choice, right now, between fear and love..." It's simply a choice. A decision you can make, or not make, as you chose. To grow, to love, to live fully, in the most human sense - as a freely evolving, self-aware individual. To be truly human is to consciously evolve. Going For Refuge, committing yourself to the path is the defining aspect of what constitutes a being a 'Buddhist'. It doesn't matter whether you chose to tell others. Not at all. It lies not in the wearing of robes, nor cultural and social traditions, but in committing oneself fully to change, to unfathomable life, to the great unknown... To Ultimate Truth; in short, to the Three Jewels. Symbolising three things of unimaginable value, the jewel of the Buddha represents limitless human potential to evolve. The Dharma is both the path of evolution and the means by which we evolve, and the Sangha constitutes your friends on the same path, and in fact all practitioners, all over the world, of all types and levels. These people I consider my spiritual Brothers and Sisters, and love with all my heart ( as do I you, dear reader). By saying these words out loud, and meaning it, one can be said to consider oneself a Buddhist...
Buddham Saranam Gachami - To The Buddha (to human potential) for Refuge I go.
Dharmam Saranam Gachami - To The Dharma (the path of his advice) for Refuge I go.
Sangha Saranam Gachami - To the Sangha (fellow practitioners, of all abilities, past and present) for Refuge I go.
Dharmam Saranam Gachami - To The Dharma (the path of his advice) for Refuge I go.
Sangha Saranam Gachami - To the Sangha (fellow practitioners, of all abilities, past and present) for Refuge I go.
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| Inside our minibus, on the road between Bodh Gaya and Rajgir (Vultures Peak). I was foolish enough to watch the oncoming traffic, whilst others couldn't bear it and sensibly found other things to pass the time. I look terrified, and often was. The unknown IS scary. |
As Sangharakshita has always insisted, "Commitment is Primary, Lifestyle is Secondary." Nothing is more straightforward to me. The Buddha too was insistent that "every person must be a lamp unto themselves... An island no flood can overwhelm". Frank Sinatra did it his way, you must do it yours, dear reader. Stick to the basic question as to whether an action will lead to harm for yourself or others, an you can't go wrong. If you start asking yourself how you might also be of service to others, then you are closer to the source of true happiness, and thus closer to Enlightenment. There is a real beauty found in the tender care for and of others, in the altruistic dimension of the path, and beauty is the mark of spiritual truth. As the legendary 8th century Indian scholar Shantideva so movingly wrote:
"All the suffering in the world comes from
seeking pleasure for oneself.
All the happiness in the world comes from
seeking pleasure for others.
Where would I possibly find enough leather
With which to cover the surface of the earth?
But (just enough) leather on the soles of my shoes
Is equivalent to covering the earth with it
Likewise it is not possible for me
To restrain the external course of things
But should I restrain this mind of mine
What would be the need to restrain all else?
May I be like a guard for those who are protectorless,
A guide for those who journey on the road.
For those who wish to go across the water,
May I be a boat, a raft, a bridge."
In spite of the difficulties I have had to face in the last year, I have been able to experience much beauty, and for this I consider myself lucky indeed. Not just watching the sunrise over Vultures Peak whist meditating in the cave the Buddha himself lived in, although it was special. Many other small moments of beauty and pleasure have been rediscovered, an undercurrent of joy in the simplest of endeavours too. For example, the gift of my legs, of simply being able to stand upright for long enough to make a cup of tea is one which for too long I have taken for granted. I give thanks every day I'm able to do so, and these days are becoming increasing frequent I'm happy to report. I am therefor overjoyed to say that a few days ago I was able to walk through the doors of the Buddhist Centre in Manchester for the first time in SIX WEEKS! I was greeted simultaneously by sandalwood and the beaming faces of six or seven of my Brothers in the Sangha, Order members and GFR Mitras (Order members to-be), each and every one of us. I have to confess I got a little choked up, but DAMN it felt so GOOD to be in that building again. These guys are my friends, some of them very close indeed, and I hadn't seen them in what felt like forever and a day. I tried and failed to express my delight in seeing all of them together at once, and though all of us had well intentioned questions, none of us had the time to answer them all properly. Still, it was a beautiful shared moment, and one which I have committed to memory, for recollection in times of hardship.
"All the suffering in the world comes from
seeking pleasure for oneself.
All the happiness in the world comes from
seeking pleasure for others.
Where would I possibly find enough leather
With which to cover the surface of the earth?
But (just enough) leather on the soles of my shoes
Is equivalent to covering the earth with it
Likewise it is not possible for me
To restrain the external course of things
But should I restrain this mind of mine
What would be the need to restrain all else?
May I be like a guard for those who are protectorless,
A guide for those who journey on the road.
For those who wish to go across the water,
May I be a boat, a raft, a bridge."
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| If ever you wondered as to how tough your life is on the global scale, compared to all others, you might want to go to India. I never before considered bricks and electricity to be luxury items... So much suffering in the world, why weep for my own mere inconveniences...? |
In spite of the difficulties I have had to face in the last year, I have been able to experience much beauty, and for this I consider myself lucky indeed. Not just watching the sunrise over Vultures Peak whist meditating in the cave the Buddha himself lived in, although it was special. Many other small moments of beauty and pleasure have been rediscovered, an undercurrent of joy in the simplest of endeavours too. For example, the gift of my legs, of simply being able to stand upright for long enough to make a cup of tea is one which for too long I have taken for granted. I give thanks every day I'm able to do so, and these days are becoming increasing frequent I'm happy to report. I am therefor overjoyed to say that a few days ago I was able to walk through the doors of the Buddhist Centre in Manchester for the first time in SIX WEEKS! I was greeted simultaneously by sandalwood and the beaming faces of six or seven of my Brothers in the Sangha, Order members and GFR Mitras (Order members to-be), each and every one of us. I have to confess I got a little choked up, but DAMN it felt so GOOD to be in that building again. These guys are my friends, some of them very close indeed, and I hadn't seen them in what felt like forever and a day. I tried and failed to express my delight in seeing all of them together at once, and though all of us had well intentioned questions, none of us had the time to answer them all properly. Still, it was a beautiful shared moment, and one which I have committed to memory, for recollection in times of hardship.
Speaking of sharing spiritual beauty, as it happens I was in the centre to meet one of my fellow Pilgrims for a meeting upstairs in the Sangharakshita Library, and we reminisced on how quickly the year since then had passed. As distant as it may feel at times, I close my eyes and to this day I can still fell the hot sand and dust between my toes, still taste the sweet, sticky morning chai in the back on my throat, and that night, on a wave of nostalgia and endorphins (it was an enthralling Kula meeting), I dug out a battered and torn old notebook...
Whilst glancing through it, the stifling fumes of the mid-day traffic flooding back to me, I found a little poem, which I had written in the Deer Park in Sarnath, the site of the first ever discourse or 'sermon' by the newly Englightened Buddha. It was the occasion of the first unenlightened person 'getting it' and realising for themselves the Buddha's truly unique and remarkable breakthrough. Thus is was the site of the first ever Going For Refuge, by the ascetic Kodanya, and was the birthplace of what we now in the West call "Buddhism." I remember feeling huge upsurges of tear-streaked grattitude from the moment I arrived there until the moment I left, and performing the Buddha Puja for my fellow Pilgrims in the shadow of the Dhamek Stupa, the spot of this historic event itself is an honour I can't convey but shall remember til I die.
I recall it being very late at night when I finished the poem, to a lively carcophony of Bhangra dance music, car horns and fireworks. The insanity of India's nocturnal noise-pollution is something which has to be experienced to be believed!... I thought I'd share it with you in an attempt, regardless. This is for all those people that are thinking of travelling to India - you have been warned! I know it's a bit unusual for me to post poetry, but I think it's healthy to be a bit scared and practice bravery sometimes. I hope you enjoy, or are at least mildly amused by my terror... In an effort to post shorter blogs on here, and to mix it up a bit, I will leave you with you this little poem. I truly hope that one day, with wide-eyed nods of agreement and astonishment, you will be able to recall it yourself. India changed me forever. I can't recommend it highly enough, if for no other reason than just to know better in your heart how lucky you are to live in a world of air-conditioning, Twitter and microwave curries. Until then, I'm sure we can all feel immense gratitude for the bountiful opportunities (both on and offline) to grow and better ourselves that the 21st century affords us all. Perhaps then, we might actually squander them less. Here's to hoping.
"Say what you like"
The Indian roads, it's true, are
Nothing if not splendid and
They are not splendid.
Rarely great,
Potholed and piss-poor,
The barely-tarmaced high seas throw up
Clouds of noxious dust.
Death-wish Drivers with
Dashboard Divinities,
Seemingly looking to
Meet their maker,
(Ahead of schedule and
Face-first,
Through the windscreen)
Flashing past induce
Involuntary profanity as we
Loose the other wing-mirror...
Time-forgotten towns with neither name nor hope,
Destitution interspersed with
Incongruous serenity,
Rice fields and respite.
Drawn ever deeper you push on,
Surely not far to go now?
100 miles, and ten times as many
Minutes to master.
The constant lurching motion wreaking
Havoc on senses unguarded,
Frayed into bug-eyed delirium from successive "sleeps",
On equally fractious beds.
Oh, and then at night there are the trains...
Or the traffic.
Or a Whitsun Wedding.
Or a blearily bleating unwatched tv.
Or hounds, hopelessly howling,
Pissing and shitting themselves lifeless,
(Not unlike their owners, should either be so lucky!)
Or all of the above.
At once.
I remember sleep.
- I used to have it.
But say what you like:
The trains exhilarate,
The dogs (almost) never growl,
The traffic is awareness personified, and
The people always smile,
(Once YOU have made the effort first).
The food is always phenomenal,
The company exemplary,
The price is always right, or less..
Here amongst the scattered dreams of yesteryear,
Cast aside like old grain,
You find India;
Wonderfully woeful at times,
But with a persistent insistence to lend her assistance,
And extend Grace and Gratitude's slender brown hands.
In destitution lies hope,
In riches, the void.
In Sarnath, my heart...
Yours, lost in the reverie,
The Dharma Farmer xx
Whilst glancing through it, the stifling fumes of the mid-day traffic flooding back to me, I found a little poem, which I had written in the Deer Park in Sarnath, the site of the first ever discourse or 'sermon' by the newly Englightened Buddha. It was the occasion of the first unenlightened person 'getting it' and realising for themselves the Buddha's truly unique and remarkable breakthrough. Thus is was the site of the first ever Going For Refuge, by the ascetic Kodanya, and was the birthplace of what we now in the West call "Buddhism." I remember feeling huge upsurges of tear-streaked grattitude from the moment I arrived there until the moment I left, and performing the Buddha Puja for my fellow Pilgrims in the shadow of the Dhamek Stupa, the spot of this historic event itself is an honour I can't convey but shall remember til I die.
 |
| The Deer Park, Sarnath (Isipathana) Feb 2013- The spot where "Buddhism" was born is marked by the Dhamek Stupa, completed 249 B.C.E. This is where is all began. The Buddha had walked the 212km to meet up with friends to share his vision. How kind and generous is that?! Were It not for that walk, I would be dead. Simple fact, and my gratitude knows no bounds. A deeply, deeply moving place, I look forward to going back... |
I recall it being very late at night when I finished the poem, to a lively carcophony of Bhangra dance music, car horns and fireworks. The insanity of India's nocturnal noise-pollution is something which has to be experienced to be believed!... I thought I'd share it with you in an attempt, regardless. This is for all those people that are thinking of travelling to India - you have been warned! I know it's a bit unusual for me to post poetry, but I think it's healthy to be a bit scared and practice bravery sometimes. I hope you enjoy, or are at least mildly amused by my terror... In an effort to post shorter blogs on here, and to mix it up a bit, I will leave you with you this little poem. I truly hope that one day, with wide-eyed nods of agreement and astonishment, you will be able to recall it yourself. India changed me forever. I can't recommend it highly enough, if for no other reason than just to know better in your heart how lucky you are to live in a world of air-conditioning, Twitter and microwave curries. Until then, I'm sure we can all feel immense gratitude for the bountiful opportunities (both on and offline) to grow and better ourselves that the 21st century affords us all. Perhaps then, we might actually squander them less. Here's to hoping.
"Say what you like"
The Indian roads, it's true, are
Nothing if not splendid and
They are not splendid.
Rarely great,
Potholed and piss-poor,
The barely-tarmaced high seas throw up
Clouds of noxious dust.
Death-wish Drivers with
Dashboard Divinities,
Seemingly looking to
Meet their maker,
(Ahead of schedule and
Face-first,
Through the windscreen)
Flashing past induce
Involuntary profanity as we
Loose the other wing-mirror...
Time-forgotten towns with neither name nor hope,
Destitution interspersed with
Incongruous serenity,
Rice fields and respite.
Drawn ever deeper you push on,
Surely not far to go now?
100 miles, and ten times as many
Minutes to master.
The constant lurching motion wreaking
Havoc on senses unguarded,
Frayed into bug-eyed delirium from successive "sleeps",
On equally fractious beds.
Oh, and then at night there are the trains...
Or the traffic.
Or a Whitsun Wedding.
Or a blearily bleating unwatched tv.
Or hounds, hopelessly howling,
Pissing and shitting themselves lifeless,
(Not unlike their owners, should either be so lucky!)
Or all of the above.
At once.
I remember sleep.
- I used to have it.
But say what you like:
The trains exhilarate,
The dogs (almost) never growl,
The traffic is awareness personified, and
The people always smile,
(Once YOU have made the effort first).
The food is always phenomenal,
The company exemplary,
The price is always right, or less..
Here amongst the scattered dreams of yesteryear,
Cast aside like old grain,
You find India;
Wonderfully woeful at times,
But with a persistent insistence to lend her assistance,
And extend Grace and Gratitude's slender brown hands.
In destitution lies hope,
In riches, the void.
In Sarnath, my heart...
Yours, lost in the reverie,
The Dharma Farmer xx
May any merit gained in my acting thus go to alleviate the suffering of all beings.
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