Satya Robyn leads a Buddhist group practice with guided meditation, chanting, and prostrations. Barbara reads an essay called "It's All Goof," exploring how taking life lightly and recognizing interconnection can ease existential isolation.
Chapters
Good morning everybody. Good morning to Matt and Evelina joining us on Zoom. It's been a little bit quieter this week as a few people are on their summer holidays. But we're all here, that's good. It's not— I know it's not that— it's not that summery today. Yeah, yes, it's bank holiday rain, of course. So we're going to begin by a Dharma glimpse from the Bright Dawn Collection, which Barbara is going to read for us this morning.
It's All Goof by John Meyer Wilder. First thing you need to know is I get migraines. Most of them aren't too bad, but some of them get interesting. With a really bad one, I can actually see sounds. Large dogs bark in a kind of rusty brown color. My wife talks in sort of bluish-tinged silver. A Harley-Davidson's exhaust is just black with flecks of brown, in case you were curious. I actually had one migraine so bad I got to see the Virgin Mary appear, kneel down, and pray over me while I was lying on the floor at work. Second thing you need to know for this story to make sense is that my daughter just started her first year of college in a small college out of state, about 3 hours from here, and she's going through all the usual, what she calls, adult training with— adult with training wheels, stuff that college kids go through. For instance, she called home 4 or 5 times one night to talk to her mother because she was trying to figure out how to do laundry. She'd asked one question and hung up, 15 minutes later, she'd call back, ask her question, get her answer, and hang up. Or the night she called to ask Mum if you were supposed to put leftover pizza in the refrigerator or the freezer. I get the calls when her computer's acting up. These two threads wove together about a month ago when I got a reasonably bad migraine. I couldn't actually see sounds, but I could feel them rippling through my body in waves. Normally when I go to bed, I set my cell phone to ring loudly enough to wake if someone— my daughter— calls and set it by the bed. But that night I forgot and left it set to vibrate, and in the den to boot. I woke up the next morning feeling fine at my usual time, 5 AM. I need to meditate and, let's be honest, watch YouTube videos before work, and saw that she called me 4 times between 9:45 and 10:15 that night before giving up. That shows a certain level of panic. I texted her back with an explanation and asked if it was too late to help, and if it was, if she had managed to solve the problem without me. Several worried hours later, I got a text back from her assuring me everything was okay. It read simply, "It's all goof." I assume that was a typo for "it's all good." But I don't care, I'll take brilliance wherever I can steal it. I'm not proud. It's all goof. I tend to take this world so seriously, as if it were important somehow. Is my boss happy with me? Which insurance plan should I sign up for? Oh Lord, did you see the election results? I need to relax. It's all goof. I keep hearing people say things like let go and let GD, and it works for them, so that's good. But I've never been able to do that. It just never managed to really register with me. It's just too goofy. But it's all goof works for me because now I get to not only take the world lightly but laugh at it too. Admit to the humor, the absurdity of it all, the imperfect, unsatisfactory, impermanent, ridiculous nature of all compounded things. When I remember, it's all goof. I haven't found what I'm looking for yet, but I'm keeping my eyes open for just the right Walt Disney merchandising. I want just the right bodhichitta satva Goofy icon for my altar. I know it when I see it. I've even got this image in my head of Goofy in saffron robes sitting on a lotus blossom that might make a nice tattoo. I'll have to sit with that one for a while. It's all goof. It doesn't have the depth of form is emptiness, emptiness is form. But as someone who approaches the great depth of Dharma wisdom only to run back to the kiddie pool, I'm happy with it. When I get hung up on making the right decision to avoid dire consequences, all capitals, like in Winnie the Pooh, which I frequently do, I repeat my new mantra: It's all goof. And somehow it all seems a bit sillier, a bit less important. Again, all in capitals: It's all goof.
Gas ho!
So we'll move into a period of meditation together, about 10 or 12 minutes. Invitation to notice first the physical sensation of, uh, your body connecting with the chair, the cushion, the earth. Tuning into the breath, not trying to change how you breathe, just noticing cooler air entering at the tip of the nose, warmer air leaving. And when distractions come, noticing what they are— oh, here's a thought about what I'm doing later, or here's a feeling about such and such— then releasing them, returning to the breath. So we'll chant some Nembutsu together using the word Amitabha, which means infinite light. So connecting our hearts to the infinite love and wisdom of the Buddha, which is the infinite love and wisdom of the universe.
Amitābha. Amitābha. Amitabh. Amitabh. Amitabh. Amitabh.
Amitabh.
Amitabh. Amitabh. Ameeta. Ameeta. Ameeta. Ameesa. Ameesa. Amitabh. Amitabh. Amitabh.
So in a moment we'll recite the refuges and precepts and bodhisattva vows, which are very traditional Buddhist words that connect us to Buddhists across the world who will be saying these things in more or less the same way, and right back to the Buddha's lifetime 2,500 years ago. The words are on the liturgy sheet if you want to see them written down, but the first part I'll invite you to repeat after me. Satya Robyn. So we begin with the refuges, which is the things as Buddhists that we begin to place our trust in. Then we recite the precepts, which are an indicator as to the direction of travel that we want to be moving in. And then the Bodhisattva vows express our heart's longing to bring peace to all beings. So please repeat after me. For refuge I go to the Buddha.
For refuge I go to the Buddha.
The one who is— excuse me— the one who is awake and full of love.
The one who is awake and full of love.
Namo Buddhaya.
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 the Buddha's light.
Those who live in the Buddha's light.
Namo Sanghaya.
Namo Sanghaya.
With faith in the Three Jewels.
With faith in the Three Jewels.
And in light of my human tendencies.
And in light of my human tendencies.
I pray that I may become aware— of when I take life. I pray that I may become aware— of when I take what is not freely given. I pray that I may become aware—
excuse me—
of when I fall into sexual misconduct. I pray that I may become aware— of when I fall into wrong speech. I pray that I may become aware— of when I become intoxicated. No blame! Be kind! Love everything!
Innumerable sentient beings, We vow to save them all.
Inexhaustible are deluded 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 follow it completely.
Namamitubbut. One of the gifts we receive from our Buddhist practice is taking things more lightly. It's all goof. As we heard. And taking things more lightly is a bit— it's both a means and an end. It's an end in that taking things more lightly is the result of Buddhist practice, and it's something that is— that we can appreciate in and of itself. Life is easier when we take things lightly. And it's also a means in that remembering to take things lightly makes life easier for ourself and others. When we don't cling on too tightly to expectations, um, life's a little bit easier when we don't take ourselves so seriously or others so seriously. And of course, at the same time as this, the Buddha also invites us to take some things seriously. So as always, it's about finding balance and the middle way. Not so lighthearted that we lose sight of caring for ourselves and each other and the Earth. Not so serious that, that we become so wound up in those things, um, we lose our sense of ease and, uh, naturalness. Tomorrow I'm going to walk, uh, to the top of Snowdon or Bingwell with a couple of friends, and there's lots of things I could worry about. Is it gonna rain? Will I get a blister? Am I gonna get cold? Will we actually get to the top? I'm still feeling low energy from COVID Like I've had 2 naps most days this week, and usually I only have 1 nap. Um, what if I have an accident? What if somebody else has an accident? Um, what if the car breaks down? I could take it all very seriously. And actually, if I unwrap those worries— well, if I take those worries seriously, let's say, well, what if I did get hurt? What's the worry there? Well, that one, that I would be in pain. Well, pain in itself is not necessarily unbearable, although it can be difficult. Perhaps that I would inconvenience other people. Perhaps ultimately that I might die. Existential— becomes existential when we really funnel down and continue to ask what's underneath that, what's underneath that, what's underneath that. Invariably we come to something that feels very existential at the root of our worries. Often about being on our own. Oh, I'm going to be on my own with this, and that will feel awful. And sometimes about, oh, this is just a thing that could kill me. And actually, if we go underneath that worry, it often goes back to the same thing. Oh, I'll be on my own and that will be awful. If I die, I'll be on— I'll be on my own with that, and that will be awful. That's the kind of— that's what Buddhism suggests is at the root of all of our worries, a fear of isolation, disconnection, feeling separate. And the antidote to that is to notice connections, to know that our sense of isolation is an illusion, is maya. The truth is that the Buddha is always present. We don't always feel that because we put up walls in our hearts and minds, but the Buddha is always there alongside us. The earth is always beneath us, the sky is always above us. There is no moment that we are truly alone in And the more deeply we can feel our way into that connection and remind ourselves of its presence, the less seriously we have to take those worries. And we can go back up the, the funnel, back up the tree, um, and then those things that were worries on the surface worrying about the rain, about getting a blister, about falling off the mountain, about the car breaking down. They're all a bit easier to bear because there's this trust that, well, whatever happens, I won't be on my own. The Buddha will be here. I'll be connected to the earth. This is what Buddhism offers, this sense of this truth of interconnection, the antidote to our existential suffering.
Nam-myoho-renge-kyo.
So we'll stand and make prostrations.
It's the main challenge, which we do while chanting Dhammamiti Guru, and we go back to the floor when we're bowing. Each going as much or as little as feels right. And there's lots of ways of describing the meaning of prostrations. We're connecting with the Earth. We are bowing to the Buddha, who stands in for all our spiritual ancestors.
So we're showing respect for all the things that we've received deep that support us. But really, we only discover the value of these practices by doing them.
So we bow 3 times while chanting Nam-myoho-renge-kyo. Namah Amida Buddha! Namoh Amida— namo amidabhu! Namo Amidabhu!
We dedicate the merits of this incense offering to all Buddha's Bodhisattvas throughout space and time. May it be as fragrant as earth itself, reflecting our careful efforts, our wholehearted awareness, and the fruits of understanding. So you like me. May we and our deeds be companions of Buddhas and Bodhisattvas. May we awaken from this forgetfulness and realize our true nature.
Nam-myoho-renge-kyo. Main shrine.
Tidy our spaces and bow to our seats. In a moment we'll finish with the closing verse, which is on the top of the liturgy sheet, but before we do couple of announcements. So Satya and I are going to be doing some clipping in the gardening in preparation for the walls being rebuilt, which you're welcome to join us for, uh, after practice next Saturday. So this time next week we've got a retreat day which you can drop in or out of as much as you want. And after practice I'll be leading an ancestor workshop, the one that I did at Woodhills. Yeah, and, um, it was very— it went down very well, so do come along. Uh, the following Saturday is the meditation marathon, which is partly— will be a nice practice to do outside meditation all day, and partly is to raise money for the walls. And, uh, yeah, have a— take a flyer for Christmas meditation classes as well. Lots of things happening, lots of good stuff.
Namaste.
Blessed by Alice Harbert's light, may we care for all living things and the Holy Earth. Namaste.
