Refuge - Dharma Talk by Rev Satyavani

Welcome. So today we had a rare day off, a whole day, and the plan was to have a nice 2-hour drive to my friend, play with my godson a little bit, leave him with my friend's mom and go out for a nice leisurely lunch somewhere, spend a few hours with them and come home. So 4 hours of driving and 4 hours of nice chilling with my friend. What actually happened was 7.5 hours of driving and 40 minutes with my friend. So this is how I wanted to begin my talk, was with suffering. That life is always doing to us what we would rather it not do. We have some idea about what we're going to do, and we take refuge in that idea, and then something completely different happens. So I'm going to talk to you this evening about refuge, what it means, what most of us tend to take refuge in, what the dangers of that are, and an alternative, something different that we could choose to take refuge in. So the Buddha also starts with suffering with his Four Noble Truths. There, there is, um, something that he realizes we can't avoid however hard we try to avoid it. We can't avoid aging— not looking at anyone particular when I say that— we can't avoid illness, We can't avoid dying. We can't avoid, um, wanting more of the things that we like, feeling like we haven't got enough of them. And we can't avoid wanting to push away the things that we don't like or that we don't want anything to do with. And this was the, the motivation for him leaving his comfortable palace, his comfortable life, and going out into the world to try and find some answers to solve that kind of— what could he do about it? What could he do about this fundamental fact that we suffer? And we all suffer. Everyone here in this room will have various things in their lives that are difficult or that they want more of or that they want less of. And the way that most of us deal with, with those things is by trying to protect ourselves in some way from the discomfort or the pain of those things, and we take refuge in those things. So I'll, I'll list a few of my favorites. My Most of you probably know what they are. Chocolate. Facebook. Trashy TV. I take refuge in trying to control other people when they're not doing quite what I'd like them to do. I take refuge in Feeling that I know how things are going to turn out if I work hard enough, then I can get them to turn out in a particular way. I take refuge in being good at certain things. So one of the things that I've been thinking about today is, how's my talk gonna go? Will people really like it? Because that would be nice, or maybe they'll hate it. Um, because sometimes we take refuge in the things that, that are— that feel good, but sometimes we take refuge in the things that, that don't feel good, but at least they're reliable. So we might have ideas about ourselves that are less positive that we really cling on to hard. And we can see these things that we take refuge in— money is something that lots of people take refuge in, having a career, our friendships— we can see these things that we take refuge in as like a sort of a blanket or a duvet that we wrap around ourself to keep ourself kind of to have some kind of barrier between us and whatever it is in life that's prickling us or making us too cold or whatever it is, whatever effect it's having. We use, we use our, our various compulsions, um, and habits like a blanket. And unfortunately, this blanket has holes in it because all of these things that I've listed have disadvantages, various kinds of disadvantages. So Facebook sometimes is full of people saying things that I really don't want to be listening to. Sometimes I post something really good on Facebook and nobody pays any attention. Into it. Sometimes I eat the chocolate, the, the amount of chocolate I think is going to be appropriate, and feel sick. Sometimes I don't enjoy the chocolate as much as I'm expecting to enjoy it. Nothing wrong with the chocolate. And the bigger things we take refuge in— money, our houses, relationships. All of these things have holes in. All of these things, we can't quite rely on them because they change. They don't— they don't— they're not— they're not— they might feel reliable, but if you examine any one of your own um, kind of familiar or preferred refuges really closely, you'll see that it might do it for you some of the time, but it, it won't— you can't lean on it. I'm mixing my metaphors now because you can't lean on blankets very well anyway. But if you were using your blanket to keep the rain out, the rain just finds holes. So what's the alternative? And I've got a few poems I want to read to you tonight, and the first one comes in at this point. And it's a poem, one of my— I kind of keep poems as, um, like favourite objects, and I've stored them up for the past 20 years, and some of them I've had for a long, long time, and every time I take them out they show me something new. This is one of those poems that I've had saved on my computer for a very long time. And when I first saved this poem, I was an atheist. I didn't really know much about Buddhism at all. I didn't have any spiritual practice. There was obviously something about it that really appealed to me. And it's called 'Of Being.' It's by Denise Levitov. I know this happiness is provisional. The looming presences—great suffering, great fear—withdraw only into peripheral vision. But ineluctable, this shimmering of wind in the blue leaves, this flood of stillness widening the lake of sky, this need to dance, this need to kneel, this mystery. And it ends with a colon, so there's something that's unfinished, this mystery, and you're sort of waiting, what is it, what is it, what is it? What is this mystery? I think what used to get me about this poem is that word 'ineluctable' is a beautiful word, but there was something about the shimmering of wind on blue leaves I could really connect with, with the beauty in that. But when I read it now, what really strikes me is this need to kneel which is what I did when I came into the shrine room, and this mystery. So the alternative to all of the refuges that I've listed so far, and I'm sure— I'm hoping that you all have a list in your own head of the things that you take refuge in, The alternative refuge is to take refuge in the mystery, which doesn't make any sense at all. So in Buddhism, the way we talk about this mystery is we have three jewels. And I'll talk about them in reverse order. We take refuge in the sangha, and the sangha is the group of people who gather together and practice Buddhism. So if you're a Buddhist, your sangha is other Buddhists. If you're a Christian, your sangha is other Christians. If you're, if you're a Buddhist, your sangha is also friends from other spiritual traditions who support you on your journey, or, or wise friends, or friends who call you out on things. But there's something about the sangha— it's not just one person, it's a gang of people. And the advantage of taking refuge in a gang of people is that it kind of mitigates the effect of them being people, which is a disadvantage when it comes to taking refuge, because of course people are full of holes. And if any of us, I'm sure as you know, try and take refuge in one person, including ourselves, then we will find those holes. Maybe not right away, but when we find them, they're pretty big. Can fall into them. So when we're taking refuge in the sangha, we're not taking refuge in one person in the sangha. We're trusting that this gang of people will hold us, because they'll all have different skills and they'll all have different dysfunction. And gradually over time we might learn. Something I learnt was when I felt a particular way and I wanted to share about it, I didn't go to that person because I'd done that 3 times and it was a really bad idea. So when I have that problem, I go and speak to that person. And I guess it's a little bit like lots of blankets sort of wrapped around you at once, so all the holes, hopefully most of them, they've got a covering on them, someone's there. And sometimes we might fall through lots of holes in lots of people before we find someone who's there, and sometimes there's nobody, that does happen, which is why I'm starting with Sangha. But sangha is really, really important. If you have— if you're lucky, if you have a good sangha, then sangha doesn't go away, however much you might want it to go away, or however much you might want to go away from it. It's stubborn, follows you, tracks you down. So that's the first jewel. Is sangha. The second jewel is the Dharma, and Dharma can be seen in two ways. One way of looking at Dharma is all of the teachings that we receive. So for Buddhists, that would be mostly the teachings of the Buddha, but it also includes all the teaching of all the disciples of the Buddha all the disciples of the disciples of the Buddha, all the disciples of the disciples of the disciples of the Buddha. Um, throughout the ages, for 2,500 years, people have been passing on this message that the Buddha had for us, which he really wanted us to use to, um, to be better people. Um, to feel better. And some people really get it, and when someone really gets it, they pass it on in a different way, and lots of people get it. And sometimes that happens quite intensely, and you get a very special teacher. In our library now, we have more than 1,000 books. Just checking with our— 1,028. 1,028. Temple librarian is in the room and can confirm that we have 1,028 books. And it's not a very big room. It's not the hugest of libraries if you think about the library down the road at Addishtana. So all of those books contain the wisdom of the Dharma. Some of it is Buddhist Dharma, some of it is vegetarian cooking Dharma, Some of it is poetry dharma. And even if we were to go downstairs after the talk tonight and pick one Buddhist book and study it for the next year, our lives would be enriched in, in many, many, many ways. So the dharma is, is the teachings of the Buddha, but the dharma is also used to mean things as they are, the kind of the reality of the world around us. The un— there's a word, I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to pronounce it— obfuscated. Anyone know what I mean? The librarian knows what I mean, so that's a good sign. A kind of a clear view of things as they really are. And that includes objects and people and experiences and phenomena. And if we can come closer to being in relationship with things as they really are, rather than as we want them to be, or rather than as we've been told they, they should be, or rather than in a way that props us up in some way then we learn a great deal. So, Songha, Dharma, Buddha. And Buddha is the jewel that I prostrated before when I came in the room. And I can't speak for Denise Levitov, but I think that It's the mystery that she's speaking about in her poem. The Buddha stands for some ineffable something that we will never have a direct experience of, but that is in existence in the world. In the universe, and that we can bring ourselves into relationship with. And I never used to have that. I never thought there was such a thing. I still don't know whether there's such a thing. I can't provide you with any proof. What I do have is my own experience. And when I bring myself into relationship with the Buddha, I can lean on something that has felt more solid than anything else that I've ever tried to lean on. Hasn't got any holes at all. The only holes are my holes, and I might lean on it sometimes and feel like it's not there, but that's because— well, the third poem I'm going to read you will say what I can't say in this moment much better. So hold on to that. So these are the three jewels that as Buddhists we can rely on, and which are more reliable than seeking praise, than planning our career, than deciding that if we achieve this or that, then we'll be happy, than looking forward to 4 hours with a friend. And the whole point of refuge is that when we lean on these things, We feel less afraid, and when we're less afraid, we're more able to be courageous and act with, um, with courage. And when we're more able to do that, when we come from that place of being less afraid, we're more able to be loving. To whatever it is that's presenting itself. Because sometimes what presents itself to us are these deep holes you kind of fall into. So the next poem will show us something about the nature of relying on this, these jewels, or this ineffable something. And it's by Marie Howe, and it's called Prayer. And she's talking to the Buddha, she's talking to God, she's talking to The mystery. Prayer. Every day I want to speak with you, and every day something more important calls for my attention: the drugstore, the beauty products, the luggage I need to buy for the trip. Even now I can hardly sit here among the falling piles of paper and clothing, the garbage trucks outside already screeching and banging. The mystics say, 'You are as close as my own breath. Why do I flee from you?' My days and nights pour through me like complaints and become a story I forget to tell. Help me. Even as I write these words, I am planning to rise from the chair as soon as I finish this sentence. I feel a very deep sense of resonance with the— that place that the poet is writing from, that we maybe have a little tiny glimpse of, um, an encounter with something that, that feels more important than anything else that's going on in our lives. And in that moment, maybe we see something beautiful, or we hear— it might be a piece of music, or might be something we read in a book In that moment we're just, "Oh, wow!" And then 20 minutes later we get a text, or we get hungry, or we catch sight of the washing that needs doing, or we start thinking about what we need to say to the person that has been annoying us, or the person that's got us wrong, or All of our lives are filled with, with this stuff that gets between us and something more important, and it's really hard to keep a connection with that mystery. So that's why we have so stronger, so we can poke each other every so often, say, 'What are you doing? Why haven't you come to service for 6 weeks?' Or, 'Aren't you getting a bit too busy?' And that's why we have temples, and that's why we have Dharma talks, and that's why we have music concerts and churches and poetry Um, and it doesn't have to be complicated. This reconnecting with the mystery doesn't have to be complicated, but it does have to somehow weave itself into our life in a way that brings us up again and again and again and again. So I've got, um, I read, um, uh, one of the old Buddhist stories, a sutra, which is the written down stories from the Buddha's time. And it's from the Mahanama Sutta, and, um, the Buddha's giving some advice to some people that want to know how they can, how they can live a good life really and stay in touch with with what's important. And I wanted to read you this quote because it made me smile. So what he says is, you should develop recollection of the Buddha while you are walking, while you are standing, while you are sitting, while you are lying down, while you are busy at work, while you are resting in your home crowded with children. I love that last bit. You can just imagine that obviously the person that had come to speak to the Buddha was a layperson and had just lived in a house that was just full of children, which is probably one of the places that's quite difficult to keep the mystery in mind. So what the Buddha's saying is you should develop recollection of the Buddha. And he goes on to say the same about the Dharma and about the Sangha, that while you are standing, while you are sitting, while you are lying down, while you are walking, you should remember to remember. That the laundry comes in, and the, and the what you can have for dinner, and the thing that you're worried about, and then you remember, and you remember to put that all into a sort of a bigger, a bigger context, and you remember to connect with something else. And the way that we do that in our tradition is that we say the name of the Buddha. It's a very simple practice. We say Namu Amida Bu And whenever we say that, we are recollecting the Buddha. We're recollecting that, that mystery, that thing that is ineffable, that we can lean on and rely on. And the good news is that in my experience, at least, this works whether or not we consciously think about the Buddha in that moment or not. All we have to do is say the words because some part of us knows what those words mean, and some part of us, when we say the words, connects with the Buddha. Or if you want to be a bit more mystical about it, which I do, the Buddha connects with you. So it's like you're kind of creating a little opening for the Buddha to, to come in, for something to come in. If we continue to do this, if we continue to take refuge in something which is which isn't impermanent, then it's like our whole lives kind of start warming up a bit. It's like the, the, um, the atmosphere around us starts to feel a little bit warmer because there's more love around, there's more safety. There's more faith. And how does that work? I don't know really, but it, it, it partly works because the thing that we're connecting with is infinitely loving and infinitely accepting of us, and Everything's okay. Even when things aren't okay, they're kind of okay. I came across the blanket metaphor in some writing about codependency, and I thought it was a really beautiful metaphor because what it says is what we often try to do when we encounter someone else that is using a blanket that's really kind of inappropriate blanket, like alcohol or being mean to people or making some choices that we can see are really bad choices. If that's the blanket that they're using to keep themselves safe, as friends or even as strangers, what we're really tempted to do is take the blanket and like just pull it away from them really hard because they're clinging on. It's like, come on, let go of the blanket, it's really not good for you. We can see they'd be better off without the blanket, but they're terrified. They're absolutely terrified that if they lose their blanket, they would be obliterated, invisible, completely abandoned, rejected, that they die. So pulling at the blanket isn't the way to do it. Pulling at our own blanket isn't the way to do it. I'm just learning this at the age of 40. If you pull on someone's blanket, they're just gonna pull back. What we do when we take refuge in the mystery is that we very gradually warm up the atmosphere around us, and it starts to feel a little bit kinder. It starts to feel like even, even though maybe it's still not predictable, it feels like if this happens or if that happens, it might not be the end of the world. It very slowly starts to feel safe. And what happens when we warm up is that we just take our blanket off. And it can take a long time to warm up the atmosphere. It might be icy. Different people have different histories and different karma, and we don't know what their blanket is protecting them from. They don't even know. We don't know what we're protecting ourselves from sometimes. We might notice that we avoid something, or that we do something, or that we always get irritated by that person or by that thing, or we really get— we always get sad when this thing's talked about. There's all kinds of things that we're protecting ourselves from. By taking refuge in inappropriate things, sometimes not so inappropriate, but withholding. So when we are taking refuge in the Three Jewels, we are letting ourselves be warmed up very, very slowly. And part of taking refuge is trusting that it might take— we don't know how long it's going to take for us to be warmed up. So we might think, oh, I've been doing this for 3 months now, I should be able to take this blanket off. And then we take it off and it's like, no, that wasn't a good idea. We need to wait and trust that there is this process going on that is sometimes very slow, and we can't do very much to, to speed it up. We can keep taking refuge. That's pretty much all we can do. The things that we force, the things that we push often end up backfiring. Maybe not straight away, but further on down the road. So what does it feel like to take refuge in this way? Sometimes it doesn't feel any different at all. One of the things I expected when I became Buddhist, or when I was thinking about committing to, to being a Buddhist was that I might, um, start getting all these nice calm feelings, all these spiritual experiences that would fill me with joy or wisdom. Doesn't seem to happen like that very often. I think the thing that shows me the most when I'm taking refuge well, if that's possible, when I allow myself to lean into the mystery, is gratitude. And I just suddenly feel grateful for so many things. Maybe to feel really grateful, you have to not be afraid. I guess when we're trying to manipulate things, or we're grabbing at things, or pushing things away It's all about what we need to change. It's about, if only that thing was different, then I'd be happy. Or if I could get a little bit more of that, or if I could just stop that from happening. So we're quite preoccupied with that. When we take refuge, it's like we're sort of just kind of— we're just sitting back in our seats. And noticing what's happening. And maybe we've got a real pain in our wrist, like, okay, yeah, there's a real pain there, but we're not trying to do anything about it unless there's something biting, in which case get rid of the small creature. Thinking about a mouse I rescued recently which bit me. But we're not, we're not completely preoccupied with doing everything that we can to change it. So our attention is a bit more broad, and we might also have this kind of— maybe we've got a niggle in our left knee, um, but ah, we've also got a real nice— we can feel the straightness in our back, or we can feel the breath going in and out. I always forget how wonderful it is to breathe until I have a cold, until I get a cold, and then for maybe half a day or a day after I can breathe again. I'm like, wow, breathing, isn't breathing amazing? And I guess that's a bit how it feels to me when I feel more relaxed is that I suddenly notice all the things that I do have. I take for granted most of the time living here, this view, which is still pretty good at this time of night, but it's, uh, it's an amazing view. And when I'm busy and I'm preoccupied, I can walk past the window maybe 7 or 8 times before I remember to look out. Ah! So feeling grateful is, is one of the things that happens when we take refuge. I've always already mentioned feeling less afraid and being more able to take risks. I guess that works a little bit like having solid ground underneath you. If you're sort of on ground that's kind of shaky and someone sort of wants you to steady them, it doesn't quite feel safe because you think they might take you over with them. But if you're solid, then it's much easier to do the loving thing, which might be risky. And the other thing I think that, that, um, comes naturally when we take refuge is that we care about other people, that we care about their suffering. We can look at their suffering and we can know it, and we can feel that we have the capacity to do something about it. So it helps us to be kind to others, and it helps us to be kind to ourselves, those bits of ourselves that are also difficult to love. And that's really the whole point of taking refuge. Yeah, it's great that we feel grateful, and it's great that we feel joyful and relaxed, um, but none of that means anything if we just sit at home and enjoy feeling good. The Buddha wanted us to go out into the world and share out what we'd received, however you want to share out whatever it is that you've received. I've just read a book with a beautiful passage from the Bible in it. Um, I can't remember even what the book was, but, um, maybe the Corinthians. And it says about charity being the most important thing, that you can have all the rest, but if you haven't got charity then you're— it's not worth anything. So I talked earlier about— I can't remember exactly how I said it, but something about— oh yeah, when you lean and you don't know that the mystery is there, that you can't feel it. And I didn't quite know how to say it. So the third poem will hopefully say it for me. And this is— it's one of those poems that often makes me cry. And again, there's something about the repetition of If you read something 100 times, then it, it, it, um, it grows in power. That's what happens with taking refuge as well. Every time you say Nam-myoho-renge-kyo, every time you walk in nature, if that's what connects you with the mystery, every time you, um, say thank you, something grows and grows and grows. And yeah, it's called Just Now. In the morning, as the storm begins to blow away, the clear sky appears for a moment, and it seems to me that there has been something simpler than I could ever believe, simpler than I could have begun to find words for. Before. Not patient, not even waiting. No more hidden than the air itself that became part of me for a while with every breath and remained with me unnoticed. Something that was here, unnamed, unknown, in the days and the nights. Not separate from them, not separate from them. As they came and were gone, it must have been here, neither early nor late. Then by what name can I address it now, holding out my thanks? So I hope you felt a little taste of mystery here this evening, um, and I will thank you all for being so beautifully quiet and still And, um, if anyone's got any questions, they can ask them now. We've got quarter of an hour. I can't see it now.

I've got a question. In the metaphor of the blanket and the room warming up, in Puyolamburisan, Amida Buddha has already completed his vows, so he's already warmed the room up, but we're still sitting there with our blankets on. So how do you sort of make sense of of us still— what's— why do we feel the room's still cold? Yeah, if that's true.

Yeah, well, you found a fault in my metaphor. I imagine that the blankets have probably got that silver stuff on the outside which keeps the heat out, or maybe on the inside. So actually it's the blankets that keep us from feeling that the room is already warm, and that maybe when we're saying 'Nam-myoho-renge-kyo,' we're sort of— I'm stretching the metaphor now, but— I guess what I'm wondering is— we're getting rid of bits of the blanket.

You know, part of the reason that came about was the idea that you don't take the blanket off somebody because instead you warm the room up. Yeah. But so that's the bit that I'm interested in. What? Well, I've got faith that the room is warm. Well, maybe that's the answer. So I've got faith that the room is warm already, so but maybe I just put myself in relationship to them knowing that, and maybe they—

to them? Yeah. We're thinking about helping other people. Yeah. Well, I guess you, I guess you walk in without your blanket, don't you? Exactly. Yeah. Naked. Just parade around for a while. Yeah, and they see you and they see that you're not shriveling to death from cold, and they see you bashing up against things and hurting yourself and getting bruised but being okay.

Thank you.

I have a question. In one of the things on your Facebook thing about this event, I think on writing zone, that you mentioned death. Welcome to Earth. There was a quote, wasn't there? Yeah, yeah, let me see if I've got it.

No, I haven't.

It was a, it was a quote by, um, Terry, Terry something something, Tempest Williams, um, and she said something like, it's only when we embrace death that we can live, or something. Was that your memory of it? Something like that, yes. I was, um, I don't wish to be morbid, but I was wondering how this, how Buddhism, um, can help with our, with our battle with death, or our peace with death. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I can tell Kasp wants to ask this question. Well, as Pure Land Buddhists, there is faith that when we die we go to the Pure Land, so we go to be with the Buddha, and we go to be with the Buddha in his field of merit. It's one way of looking at it. So around the Buddha everything is wonderful, like a great person who inspires people and who makes beautiful gardens and who, uh, you know, inspires other people to build lovely things. That's what happens around a Buddha. So around Amida Buddha is, is a pure land where people are harmonious. And, and in Pure Land Buddhism, we are all guaranteed to be reborn in the pure land as long as we say Nam-myoho-renge-kyo. 'Nam-myoho-renge-kyo.' As long as we hear the word— it was written down— but as long as we hear 'Nam-myoho-renge-kyo,' Amida Buddha vowed that he would save everybody and they'd all be reborn in his Pure Land. If you haven't been so good, you might just be born within a lotus bud, like a little bit further away from him, you know, so you might not be quite so close to him and his field of merit, but you'll be there, you'll be there. It's still a pretty cool place to be. So that would be some sort of way of— that would be a Pure Land way of talking about what happens after you die. I guess a non-Pure Land way of talking about it would be that our faith extends so far that it extends beyond death. So we don't— none of us know what's going to happen when we die or when other people die. Um, but if we connect with this mystery, somehow we gradually feel better about it. Yeah, we gradually feel like we can relax. Whatever is going to happen, even if there's pain, it, it will be okay. So there's a gradual process, I guess, of not being afraid of anything. And for different people, death will bring different fears. It might be the process of dying, it might be disappearing, it might be, you know, lots of different things. But all of these things are— survivable is not the word, but they'll be okay. Will be okay. One of the things that can be done if you're— when you're dying and you're a Pure Land Buddhist is that there's a— you have a red thread that you tie onto the Buddha, and then the dying person holds in their hands, so when they die they just go straight there. Yeah. Which I think is a really nice physical way of of symbolizing something about going home, or— yeah. Thank you. Anything else? Are there any questions from your own life that have been prodded at?

Um, would you say events of synchronicity, like a connection with the mystery which you talked about?

Good question. I probably would, but other Buddhists might not. I think my own take on it is that does it make me a better or sort of more loving person to believe it's synchronicity or not? And I kind of like the idea of synchronicity because I like the idea of having a bit of help from outside me. So when something happens that's kind of feels symbolic for some reason, then it's helpful for me to pay attention to it than not. I think if I thought everything was completely random, I'd be less likely to pay attention to it and act on it. Mm. Sometimes things are a bit freaky. They could be explained by chance, and I'm sure, you know, there would be people here who would say, well, there's no such thing as synchronicity and everything's completely random. That could be so. I quite like to live my life just not knowing, not knowing whether there is such a thing as synchronicity or not, but, but, um, but acting in a way as if there is. And I'd say the same thing for all the rest, actually, because I don't know any of this stuff is true. I just go with it and see how that works out for me. And I think that's important, is to don't trust anyone, really, to tell you what you should be doing. Listen to the people that you think know what they're talking about, but try it out yourself and experiment with it and find your own way with it. Maybe one more, if there's anyone else. You talked about taking refuge in Poetry, and I would add art to that. Do you see that as our way of trying to express the mystery? I mean, how do you relate poetry and art to mystery? That's an interesting question. Yeah, or our way of trying to understand it, or— Yeah, both. I think some people, art probably wouldn't have any connections with the mystery at They're probably not very good artists, but yeah, a way of another blanket or something to make, you know, to make themselves more clever. But I think probably good— for me, good art touches me in a place that has a connection with the mystery. And the other thing about the mystery is by definition this thing, whatever it is, is impossible to talk about. It's impossible to talk about or think about or know about or explain. So I think art, music, poetry, they can get in the side door somehow. They can give us an experience which gives us some kind of intuition of the mystery, for me. Yeah, like a little gateway or a window onto something. One of the things that we have in our morning liturgy is the saying, 'Amomi Dabu' is like a window through which the whole of Buddha's teaching can be perceived. And you could see art in the same way, that a painting that really arrests you kind of shows you this whole world of something. So, so you can use different things as windows. And art is a pretty good thing to use as a way of trying to express something of that mystery, but also trying to convey it to others. And that's the bit where you're sharing the love, isn't it? That's the bit where you're trying to communicate something, share something with other people, which they may or may not get. But it's important to be engaged in that work. Wow, feels like the mystery's been here in this room this evening. Uh, I've got some copies of the poems if anyone wants to take them away, and, um, I'll leave the shrine room in a minute and Casper will hand around a bag which, if you would like to donate some some money to help donate, to help support the sort of the work that we do here, which is our kind of way of trying to share whatever it is with everybody, please put some in the bag. And Emma's made some chocolate tiffin, and we have a variety of hot drinks, so please do stay and have a chat. So thank you again for your attention. Namaste.