Practice - gardens & blackbird song

This meeting is being recorded.

Welcome everybody, welcome Chris. And we've got a new English accent lady. So we will start with a Dharma glimpse. By Chris, and it will be ably read by Jyami.

Namamida bu. So this is called Dharma Gardening: Life and Death in Suburbia. 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 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 flip 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've cut an earthworm in half with the fork. The two halves wriggle, and I vaguely recollect reading that the 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 precepts, 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 plow 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 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 recognized, life and death are inextricably bound together. Some creatures die so that others can live. This is the joy and sadness of 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 colors of the day. It seems particularly beautiful tonight. I'm swept by a sudden acknowledgement of the richness of our Mother Raw Earth in all her beauty and suffering. Namaste.

So we will sit quietly together and, um, be ambitious tonight. To do the Medicine Buddha chant, which is slightly different to the one you know, but which is on your bit of paper. It's the one right at the bottom. Hayata om beken je, beken je, ma beken je, ratsa samudgati so. So I'll lead us in that chant. Um, I'm ready to go.

Bhagavan Sri Ramana Maharshi. Maha Bekenje Ratsasamukhatsesuha. Vajatsaho Om Bekenje Bekenje. Maha Bekenje Ratsasamukhatsesuha. Vajatsaho Om Bekenje Bekenje. Maha vekhangee ratha samukhate suha. Aaya cha om vekhangee, vekhangee. Maha vekhangee ratha samukhate suha. Aaya cha om vekhangee, vekhangee. Maha Bakenje Ratsasamudgatse Soha. Vaya Taho Om Bakenje, Bakenje. Maha Bakenje Ratsasamudgatse Soha. Vaya Taho Om Bakenje, Bakenje. Maha Bekinje Ratsasamudgatse Soha. Vaya Tsa Om Bekinje Bekinje. Maha Bekinje Ratsasamudgatse Soha. Vaya Tsa Om Bekinje Bekinje. Maha Bekinje Ratsasamudgatse Soha. Hayata Om Bekinje Bekinje. Maha Bekinje Ratsasamudgatse Soha. Hayata Om Bekinje Bekinje. Maha Bekinje Bacon J! Bacon J! Maha bacon J! Pratsa sammutkati suha! Thaiyatha om bacon J! Bacon J! Maha bacon J! Pratsa sammutkati suha! Thaiyatha om bacon J! Bacon J! Maha bacon— Om Bekam Je Bekam Je Maha Bekam Je Rasa Samudgati Suha! Ayatza Om Bekam Je Bekam Je Maha Bekam Je Rasa Samudgati Suha! Ayatza Om Bekam Je Bekam Je—

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 Buddhaya! 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 Buddha's light—

those that believe in Buddha's life—

Namo Sangaya! With faith in three jewels I pray time may not take my life; with faith in the Three Jewels I pray that I might steal less; with faith in the Three Jewels I pray that I will fall into sexual misconduct no more; I pray that I may not fall into sexual misconduct— With faith in The Three Jewels! —With Faith In The Three Jewels! I pray that I may not fall into wrong-speech—

I pray that I may not fall Into Wrong-Speech!

—With Faith In The Three Jewels! —With Faith In The Three Jewels! I pray That I May Avoid Intoxication— I Pray This Time They Avoid Intoxication! No Blame! Be Kind And Love Everything!

We vow to master them all. Infinite is the Buddha's way. We vow to follow it completely.

In the silence after chanting, I was listening to the blackbirds, and I was struck by how different every phrase was, um, that each one was fresh and unique. And it reminded me of one of the themes that Reverend Gyomei Kubose wrote about in his books, which was the idea of us having what he calls true self, and that each of us has a kind kind of unique, um, a unique upwelling of personality that expresses itself completely differently depending on, on who we are and what our histories have been. And that if we can let go of need to please other people or protect ourselves, then what comes out is an expression of this true self. I imagined it as like the blackbird song, that it's changing all the time. But it just unfolds out of us. It's not, um, we don't design it. It's almost what's there, what's left when everything kind of superfluous is sort of falls away. I was talking to my friend Mark this morning. Mark was involved in civil disobedience for a long time and spent spent some time in prison, and what he's doing at the moment is playing his saxophone for the first time in many, many years. He signed up to an improvisation classes, saxophone improvisation classes, and as he spoke about doing it, he just kind of lit up, the whole being sort of lit up, and he said that he didn't understand why or what it was for, or what benefit it would be, but that his calling at the moment was to make music. I think it's extra risky to trust in times like these, when everything's kind of going to pot, that if we listen to the Buddha and we do what the Buddha asks us to do, then it is the best thing to do. And that that is true even when what we're being asked to do seems pretty boring or mundane or even selfish or small or insignificant. We can trust that the Buddha knows more than we do about how Everything works. And that Mark's saxophone playing right now, even if nobody hears it, is somehow as valuable as that time in prison. Even as I say that, I'm like, really? Is that possible? And the Buddha says, Yes. So as I get older, what I try to do more and more is listen for the whisper of the Buddha's calling and just do that. And often it's like, do the washing up, or write that email. Or go and sit in the garden for half an hour with that book, just trusting that if I keep listening and keep doing those things, that through me there will be more love in the world, because that's what the Buddha wants. Namami Devi.

our whole heart aware, and the fruits of understanding slowly ripening.

May we, all beings, be companions of Buddha and Bodhisattva. May we awaken from forgetfulness, realize our true self.