Satya Robyn leads a Buddhist community practice session with readings on earth as refuge, guided sitting, chanting, and prostrations. Paul shares a personal piece called Taking Refuge in the Earth, while Casper offers reflections on nature and spiritual practice.
Chapters
Good evening everyone. Good evening to Paul, Klahti, and Mal joining us online. So I'm glad you're here tonight, Paul, because we're going to read your piece of writing. If you'd like to read it yourself, you're very welcome. You could, if you've got it on you, you can unmute and read it, but I'm springing that on you. So what do you reckon?
Yeah, I'd be happy to read it myself. That'd be fine.
Wonderful. Well, we can hear you We can hear you well, so, um, over to you.
Okay.
You're mute.
Do you know that you're muted?
Yes, I did know I was muted, so now I will start.
Thank you for that. Great.
Here we go. So my piece is titled Taking Refuge in the Earth. While on vacation a few weeks ago, I took a walk at the edge of the Olympic National Park. A wilderness preserve dominated by rainforest, snow-capped mountains, and ocean beaches. My path was simple and accessible, a 3-kilometer trail that looped down a shallow ridge, followed a stream trickling toward the sea, then returned to a parking lot near the highway. It was a typical Pacific Northwest spring morning. The sky was full of mist and clouds interrupted by blue and yellow gaps we call sunbreaks. I strolled through a landscape of beauty and devastation, inhaling the scent of vegetation, moisture, and decay. Hemlocks, firs, and cedars rose from a dense undergrowth of sword ferns, sedge, and berries, but the brush was punctuated by debris from a decades-old lumber harvest, massive stumps and logs that had been deemed unsuitable for the sawmill. About 30 years ago, this area had been clear-cut of all harvestable timber, then allowed to recover at its own pace. What better place to chant the Nembutsu? As I crossed a footbridge over the stream, I fingered the prayer beads in my pocket and chanted softly, almost whispering to ensure I did not drown out the singing water or disturb the jays and crows hunting their breakfast. As I began my ascent toward the parking lot, I found my Buddha for the day, a massive stump of western red cedar flattened at the top by a skillful wielder of the chainsaw. As it decayed in the dense air, the stump was bursting with life. Its sides were covered with dense green moss, lichen, and sword ferns sprouting from crevices in the bark. The top, flat as a table, was home to more ferns, to berry bushes, and even to saplings beginning centuries of growth that would ultimately destroy the stump. A perfect place to bow and gassho, take the refuges, chant the name. When I encountered Bright Earth Buddhism, I was struck by the addition of the earth to the traditional refuges. Standing before that stump of a great tree that had given its life to provide material for fences and decks, I saw that for me, the earth is the holy ground of awakening because it is the arena where life and death penetrate each other, where I can see my own existence from this non-dualistic perspective. Preparing to turn 70 later this year, I often wake in fear of my death and decline, worried that I will not have time to realize my hopes for spiritual and aesthetic fulfillment. I often feel I've given too much of my life to the building of wealth and the craving for status and acceptance. I've been a Buddhist backslider, taking up the path several times, then letting it go under the pressures of career and my own insecurities. I have long aspired to write fine poems, only to let my fear of failure undermine my enthusiasm. Standing before that beautiful decaying stump, I forgave myself. As I flow toward the grave, I too am bursting with new life. In the last decade, I found new writing communities, new sanghas, new opportunities for creativity and growth. I've written some of my most genuine poems. I've grown closer to my family and friends. I've started learning how to love myself with a realistic view of my strengths and weaknesses. After all these years of searching and indecision, I am at risk for becoming sane. I will not claim that my encounter with the stump cured me of my fears and insecurities. I am not an enlightened being. But in the weeks since our meeting, I felt a subtle shift in my awareness, becoming just a bit more accepting of myself and of the mysterious end my life will soon reach. When I take refuge before my Nembutsu scroll, the stump appears in my inner eye as I say Nam-myoho-renge-kyo.
Thank you so much, Paul. Really nice to hear it in your voice as well. So we will move into some quiet sitting together and maybe an invitation to imagine ourselves next to Paul's stump. In the forest, or another place in nature that is special for you. And you might want to invite the Buddha into that space too, to sit with you, um, either a human-sized version or a giant version of the Buddha. And just allow yourself to settle in that place and allow whatever comes, comes, and allow it to move through and pass. After some time, we'll do some chanting together, so do join us.
Om Amitayi wa— om amiti wo ri! Om Amitayi wa ri! Om Ami Deva Sri. Om Ami Deva Sri. Om Ami Deva Om Namite Wah-hee. Om Namite Wah-hee. Om Namite Wah-hee. Om Namite Wahree. Om Namite Wahree. Om Namite Wahree. Om Amitayi. Om Amitayi. Om Amitayi. Mami te warri. Om Mami te warri. Om Mami te warri. Om Ami Te Wa Re. Om Ami Te Wa Re. Om Ami Te Wa Re. Om Amidevah Reem. Om Amidevah Reem. Om Amidevah Welcome.
Would you like a cushion? Are you comfortable? Just help yourself if you want one. So in a minute we are going to recite some liturgy together. I'll just put some links in the chat for those joining us online, and we will begin with the Statement of Faith, which describes kind of principles that we abide by, or the beliefs we have here in Brighter. So, and then we will recite the Refugees' Vows and Precepts. Statement of faith. The purpose of our practice is to open us to the wisdom and compassion of the Buddhas. Our heart practice is the Nembutsu, the recitation of Amida Buddha's name. We also connect with the Buddha's wisdom through practices like listening to teachings, meditation, and being in the natural world. We treasure Shakyamuni Buddha, who set the wheel of Dharma turning. We learn from Buddhist teachers throughout the ages, awakened beings everywhere, and the world itself. We especially revere the great Pure Land sages Honen and Shinran. Held in Amida's loving gaze, we come to know ourselves deeply, both our bambu nature and our Buddha nature. As bambu beings, we grasp at unreliable refuges and sometimes we cause harm. Knowing the harm we cause offers us the chance to lessen that harm. Seeing our fallible nature also strengthens our refuge in Amida Buddha. The more deeply we take refuge in Amida, the more our greed, ill will, and delusion will melt like ice into water. Allowing our natural compassion to flow into the world. We trust that at the center of each of us is the heart that loves all living beings and that wishes for their liberation. We take action powered by this love in response to suffering in the world. We pay attention to the causes of suffering. We mitigate for power. We practice discerning what work is ours to do. We wish that all who may benefit are able to access the jewels of the Buddha's teachings. Moved by the Buddha's love, we vow to take care of all living beings, including ourselves. Held tenderly by the Buddha's love, We find clarity, consolation, and settled faith. I will now recite the refuges, vows, and precepts together. So if you repeat after me: For refuge I go to Amida.
For refuge I go to Amida.
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.
For refuge I go to the Earth.
For refuge I go to the Earth.
The holy ground of awakening.
The holy ground of awakening—
Nam-myoho-renge-kyo. With faith in the Four Refuges—
with faith in the Four Refuges—
and in light of my human tendencies—
and 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—
of when I take what is not freely given—
of course it's naturally even—
'I pray that I may become aware' 'Of when I fall into sexual misconduct.' Of my fault to sexually mislead others! 'I pray that I may become aware,' or maybe come away from one? 'When I fall into wrong speech?' Or for instance on stage, 'I pray that time they 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 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.
Infinito is the Buddha's way, we vow to fulfill it completely.
So hearing about the moss from Paul's tree reminds me of one of my favorite things in the temple garden, which is a small dark gray Buddha in the gravel garden that we brought when we moved into the temple 11 years ago. And about 2 years ago, it started growing moss. So it sat just, you know, completely bare for 9 years, and then moss appeared. And I just really love it. I really wanted to take it with me when we moved, but I restrained, restrained myself. I get to visit him when I come to the temple, and I don't think he wants to be moved. And it feels like that's one of the teachings from nature, is that sometimes in order to receive something good, we have to sit still for a very long time, maybe 9 years, that we need to stay in the same place. We need to allow something to soak into us really slowly and trust that something is growing, trust that the conditions are just changing and becoming ripe for something good to happen. And then I think about our potatoes. Casper and I have put some raised beds in our new garden, so we've and put them together and filled them with earth and put growing different vegetables, and it's very exciting. And I planted some potatoes in the first raised bed, 6 potatoes that had been sitting on the windowsill and growing the little chitting, they're growing their little, um, shoots, and we put them in there Raised bed, covered them up, waited, waiting, waiting to see the leaves coming up. I waited, I waited. Now, 1 week, 2 weeks, 3 weeks, 4 weeks. In the meantime, I planted some potatoes that my mum gave me in a different pot. Um, like 2 weeks after the first ones, my mum's potatoes sprouted. Woo!. And then I'm like, what's going on with these potatoes? I waited another week, I waited another week, and finally I couldn't restrain myself. I dug up potato and it was dead. All the shoots that it had had kind of rotted away. I dug up the other potatoes, they were all just dead. I don't know why. So we put them in the compost, and we put some new potatoes in. They're shooting a couple of weeks later. So if I'd waited a long time for these potatoes, uh, we wouldn't have potatoes this year because they were just dead. They weren't coming back to life. So nature is showing me that sometimes we have to start again. Sometimes we have to move. Sometimes we have to say no, or finish a relationship, or give up on something and try something different. And it can be really difficult to know whether to be the Buddha waiting for moss to grow or whether to be the puller-up of the dead potato. But luckily, the Buddha knows. The Buddha knows what's best for us to do. And when we get stuck, when we don't know what our next step should be, we can ask the Buddha. And sometimes when we ask the Buddha, it's quiet. We don't hear anything back. And then we have to be like the Buddha waiting for moss and just wait. We ask our question, we hand it over to the Buddha, and we wait. And sometimes the Buddha will answer us very quickly, very clearly. We'll hear something on television that night, or a friend will give us some advice, or something will just click and we know what to do. The Buddha sees much more than we see, and we can lean in to the Buddha. We can take refuge in the Buddha. And we can take refuge to the Buddha as the Buddha appears in the natural world. Nam-myoho-renge-kyo. So we now make prostrations to the shrine. So in a minute I'll stand up and we'll all face the shrine. If you're able to join us, that would be great. When we prostrate, we're chanting Nam-myoho-renge-kyo, which is just calling out to Amida Buddha, the Buddha of infinite light. And if people are watching from somewhere else, you can either just make a bow or you can do a full prostration, whatever you fancy doing. And we do 3 prostrations. And prostrations really are just a way of taking refuge. We're just kind of lying ourselves down in front of the Buddha. I really love prostrations because it means I just get to rest on the floor for a minute and allow the Buddha to to hold me. So namami devi. I'm actually going to turn the camera around so you can see the main shrine, if that's okay with everybody.
Namaste.
Alas, people busily engaged in secular matters take no notice of life wearing away day by day, night by night. An apple in the wind, how long can it last? In the six rounds of vast samsara, there is no fixed abode. Until we are emancipated from the sea of affliction, how can we rest in peace? Should we not be afraid? While we still have strength, let us sit here in the Dharma. Let us strive and diligently seek the path to eternity.
So if you'd like to come back to stand at your seats. This is the— when we bow to each other to say thank you to each other for practicing together with us, and then we bow to the Buddha. Don't worry, it's complicated to know which way to turn. And then we bow to our seats to thank our seats. So I'm going to leave the shrine room in a minute after we say the closing verse, and I'll come back and say hello if you're online. And please do join us for a cup of tea if you're free. Announcements on Saturday Next week at 10:45, Casper— this week, it's Wednesday— this Saturday, Casper will be giving, uh, do you want to say?
Yeah, I'm giving a talk on the bodhisattva vows. We chanted them earlier, but where do they come from? What do they mean? How can they support us?
What's their magic? So if you're in America, you might not want to get up at 5:45. Extra points if you do, but it will be recorded so you can watch it on later, and we have various things coming up that will be on the website soon.
Blessed by Amma Tarbles' light, may we care for all living things and Mother Holy Earth.
