A Saturday morning Buddhist service led by multiple speakers includes chants, the Four Refuges, Stephen Dunn's poem "Sweetness," and Kay Tempest's song "Grace." The group reflects on suffering in Afghanistan, Gaza, Sudan, and Ukraine, then sits in guided meditation on grace and connection.
Chapters
Morning everybody, welcome to this highly select Saturday morning practice. And welcome to our two online joiners. I think everyone is headed to the beach, forest, or just sitting in their fridge, you know. So we're going to start today's practice with a poem. The poem is 'Sweetness' and it's by Stephen Dunn. Just when it seemed I couldn't bear one more friend waking with a tumour, one more maniac with a perfect reason, Oftener sweetness has come and changed nothing in the world except the way I stumbled through it. For a while lost in the ignorance of loving someone or something, the world shrunk to mouth size, hand size, and never seeming small. I acknowledge there is no sweetness that doesn't leave a stain. No sweetness that's ever sufficiently sweet. Tonight a friend called to say his lover was killed in a car he was driving. His voice was low and guttural. He repeated what he needed to repeat, and I repeated the one or two words we have for such grief until we were only speaking only in tones. Often a sweetness comes as if on loan, stays just long enough to make sense of what it means to be alive, and then returns to its source. As for me, I don't care where it's been or what bitter road it's traveled to come so far to taste. So good. And read it one more time in my tradition of reading poems twice. Just when it has seemed I couldn't bear one more friend waking with a tumor One more maniac with a perfect reason. Often a sweetness has come and changed nothing in the world except the way I stumbled through it. For a while lost in the ignorance of loving someone or something. The world shrunk to mouth size, hand size, and never seeming small. I acknowledge there is no sweetness that doesn't leave a stain, no sweetness that's ever sufficiently sweet. Tonight a friend called to say his lover was killed in a car he was driving. His voice was low and guttural. He repeated what he needed to repeat, and I repeated the one or two words we have for such grief. Until we were only speaking in tones. Often a sweetness comes as if on loan, stays just long enough to make sense of what it means to be alive, and then returns to its dark source. As for me, I don't care where it's been or what bitter road it's traveled. To come so far to taste so good. Thank you, Stephen Dunn. Nam-myoho-renge-kyo.
Thai, Thai, Thai. Satya Robyn, bacon J, bacon J, ma bacon J, that's a samungate so hard. Satya Robyn, bacon J, bacon J, ma bacon J, that's a samungate Satya Robyn, bacon, bacon, bacon. Om bekenje, bekenje, mah bekenje ratsasamungate soha. Chaya ta wo om bekenje, bekenje, mah bekenje ratsasamungate soha. Thai, Thai.
For refuge I go to the Buddha. For refuge I go to the Buddha, the one who is awake and full of love.
The one who is awake and full of love.
Namo Buddha. For refuge I go to the Dharma.
For refuge I go to the Dharma.
All that guides us to wisdom and compassion.
All that guides us to wisdom and compassion.
Namo Dharmaya.
Namo Dharmaya.
For refuge I go to the Sangha.
For refuge I go to the Sangha, those who live in the Buddha's light. Those who live in the Buddha's light.
Namo Sangha.
Namo Sangha.
For refuge I go to the Earth.
For refuge I go to the Earth.
The holy ground of awakening.
The holy ground.
Namo Bumi.
Namo Bumi.
With faith in the Four Refuges—
With faith in the Four Refuges—
And in light of my human tendencies—
In light of my human tendencies—
I pray that I may become aware—
I pray that I may become aware—
Of when I take life. —of when I take life. I pray that I may become aware—
I pray that I may become aware—
when I take what is not freely given—
when I take what is not really good—
I pray that I may become aware—
I pray that I know you come away—
of when I fall into sexual misconduct— or intersectional misconduct— I pray that I may become aware—
I pray that I'm making aware—
of when I fall into wrong speech— but I fall into your own speech I pray that I may become aware.
I pray that I may become aware of when I become intoxicated.
Of when I become intoxicated. No blame. No blame. Be kind. Be kind. Love everything.
Love everything. Innumerable are sentient beings.
We vow to save them all. Inexhaustible are the Buddha's passions. We vow to transform them all. Immeasurable are the Dharma teachings. We vow to master them all.
Infinite is the Buddha's way.
We vow to fulfill it completely.
Na mi mi dabu. Hmm, so I'm going to talk about follows the theme of the poem. And I'm also going to be sharing a song. So the other day, or the other night as it was, I was reading a bit more into the situation for women in Afghanistan at the moment with the huge deprivation of their rights, the denial of their right rights to, well, most things— rights to education, rights to spend time, you know, outside of the home or not with their husband. But child marriage levels have hugely elevated because of the poverty and the need, the desperation of some families to sell their daughters into marriage in order to eat, in order to feed their family. And I was looking around at the scorched grass and the empty water butt, and the fact that it was actually empty in May. So in the time when we normally have a huge amount of rain in this country, the water butt was already empty. And I was reminded of the many other deeply depressing things about the state of our world at the moment. Sudan and Gaza, Ukraine, the rise of far-right extremism. Remembering my relative who got killed by a gang a few years ago. And sometimes all these things can feel like a tidal wave that's just going to completely crush me and obliterate me. And I don't— I just, you know, there's a— yeah, can feel a sense of powerlessness. And that I'm not big enough to hold all of this suffering. And then I remember, of course, that I don't need to be, that I don't need to be, because there is something much, much vaster than me, or than any of us, that is holding everything. And I notice that around with the scorched grass, there are plants which are still alive, and there are lots of butterflies. And then a friend talks to me about something they're passionate about, and I see them light up and I share a beautiful moment and I see the moon and I'm reminded of all these other sweetnesses, and also reminded of these moments of grace when something— when the Divine, when the limitless, when the Buddha simply cut through into the moment and reconnects me with the sacred and the profound. And right on cue, a friend sent me this song which I'm going to play to you. It's Grace by Kay Tempest.
It was Grace, stunned by the large light of the sun, swimming in a green sea as deep as a drum. There are things I must record, must praise, things I have to say about the fullness and the blaze of this beautiful life. Beloved watched the world on its knees with an infinite degree of separation. That was something to see. A friend told me death is like taking off a tight shoe, and when I stopped looking for me, I was able to find you right there where everything is transcendent. I feel myself opening up, getting closer, though hope isn't enough. I've stopped hoping, I'm learning to trust. I came to under that red moon I was completely crushed. Please use me, please move through me, please unscrew me, please loosen me up. Make music with me, make everything stop, make noise and make silence with me. Make love, let me be love, let me be loving, let me give love, receive love, and be nothing but love. In love and for love and with love.
In love and for love and with love. Surrender. I do surrender. Move with me and feel me. Get out of the way. Tune into something more deep and reflective than what's to be achieved. Or perceived or affected. What's my problem? I'm always drawn back to that wrestling match. 10 thoughts in the ring of my mind playing catch. I can't live with the noise in my head. I just want to dig a big ditch in the soil of my breath and bury my brain there. I'm sick. Satya Robyn, take forth what is within you. What you bring forth will save you. What you do not bring forth, what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you. It was great, stunned by the last light of the sun, swimming in the green sea as deep as a drum. There are things I must recall, must praise. There are things I have to say about the fullness and the playfulness of this beautiful life, of this beautiful life. Remind us of the connection, the presence that is always there alongside the truth of dukkha, the truth of suffering.
I know, I know.
Certain situations or practices that when I engage with them are particularly conducive to moments of connection, or to moments where grace might come through.
For me, it's music, chanting, singing, drumming, art, sometimes nature. Often. If for you that you know that there are also certain environments or certain people, certain practices, certain things that when you choose to turn towards them or to put yourself in those situations, engaged with those things, that it is also conducive conducive or graceful connection to the sacred, to the Buddha, to consciousness, then that's good, useful information. And you can choose— you may choose to engage in those things more often, or simply just to know that they're there. That you can draw on them when you need to, and that sometimes, just as in the poem says, the sweetness comes when we least expect it. And the poem says that there is no sweetness without stain. Which is interesting. It could— that could be viewed like alluding to or referencing the suffering, the impermanence tinged in experiences of joy and connection. And I would say that there is a sweetness that has no stain, which is the sweetness of awakening. Sweetness of love, awareness, compassion of the Buddha, of the sacred. So I hope maybe by sharing this that It might also be a helpful reminder that we don't have to be big enough to hold everything. Namami Devi.
Gratitude we make this offering to all Buddhas and Bodhisattvas throughout space and time. May Satya Robyn preserve herself, reflecting our careful efforts our wholehearted mindfulness, and the fruit of understanding start ripening. May we and all beings be companions of Buddhas and Bodhisattvas. May we awaken from forgetfulness and realize our true home.
Mm, we have a volunteer hour. From 11-ish till 12-ish for those who would like to come and do a bit of gardening. There is quite a bit of shade, so if you do want to do it but you don't want to be in the sun, you can come and do some in the shade. Um, that's our evening. Blessed by Amitābha inside, may we care for all living things and the holy earth.
