Khemashalini leads a Saturday morning Buddhist practice with group meditation, chanting of refuge vows, and a Dharma reading called Mindfulness of the Cat by Chris El Story. The session includes reflections on impermanence, prompted by shrine flowers and the Sycamore Gap tree.
Chapters
And breathe. Morning!
We love a little technical challenge first thing in the morning. Welcome, Matt. It's lovely to See you, be you, a little bit itty bitty at the top of my screen, but welcome. Kusuma and Ange are with us. So Casper is off today to the Birmingham Vihara to an MBO conference, I think, with Dave.
Yeah.
Um, and, uh, yeah, it's Satya's day off. So we're here this morning on a very damp, misty day, but not as damp as yesterday, which was very, very wet yesterday. So, uh, yeah, it's nice to be here. Ah, so I'm going to hand over this morning to, uh, Ange, who's going to read a Dharma glimpse. And I think— I can't remember who it's by, but I, I know it was about cat. So over to you, Angela.
Thank you very much.
So this style of my glimpse is by Chris El Story. Mindfulness of the Cat. Timothy is relaxing on the sofa. Timothy does a lot of relaxing. Like most cats, it's a skill he has down to a fine art. Timothy doesn't worry about mistakes he's made in the past. He won't be agonizing over that time when he accidentally upset a mug of coffee all over the new carpet, or when he ripped a hole in the net curtain whilst trying to catch a fly. Timothy doesn't worry about what the future holds either. He doesn't feel anxious about the conflict in Eastern Europe or feel concerned about the damage us humans are doing to the planet. Timothy lives in the here and now. He enjoys the warm sunshine on his back He strolls around the garden with all its fascinating sights and smells. The feel of a friendly hand stroking his back and around his ears. The taste of his food as the bowl appears in front of him, courtesy of his— courtesy of his tame human. Sometimes I wish I could be like Timothy. It would be so much easier and less stressful not to be concerned with anything beyond what is happening in this present moment within the narrow confines of my everyday life. On the surface, it may seem that living in the present moment is just that and nothing else. Being mindful of what is happening to us in this moment and putting aside everything else. However, living mindfully is so much more than that. If we live mindfully, we become more aware of what is going on around us. We become more open to the world with its joy and pain. It's wonder and suffering. It's potential and fragility. Being mindful doesn't limit us, but rather expands our horizons. I could say more, but Timothy has got up from his rest and wants his dinner. He wants it now. Of course.
Namamita bhū.
Thank you.
I can relate as a person who shares my life with 5 feline friends. So we'll go now into a period of quiet.
Meditation.
Hopefully you're all sitting comfortably.
Happy to be Omami te warri.
Omami te warri. Omami te warri. Omami te warri. Omami te warri.
Omami te warri.
Omami te warri. Omami te warri. Omami te warri. Omami te warri. Omami te warri.
Omami te warri.
Omami te warri. Omami te rari.
Omami te ra ri.
Omami te rari. Omami te rari.
Omami te ra ri.
Omami te wari. Omami de warri.
Omami de ro ri.
Omami de rari. Omami te rari. Omami te rari. Omami te rari. Omami te ari.
Omami te ari.
Omami te ari. Omami Dei Rari. Omami Dei Ra. Re. Omami Dei Wari. Om Ami Dev Hari.
Om Ami Dev Hari.
Om Ami Dev Hari. Om Nami Devi Wari.
Om Nami Devi Wari.
For refuge, I go to the Buddha.
For refuge, I go to Buddha.
The one who is awake and full of love.
The one who is awake and full of love.
Namo Buddha.
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.
Those who live in the Buddha's light.
Those that live in the Buddha's light.
Namo Sanghaya.
Namo Sanghaya. With faith in the Three Jewels.
With faith in the Three Jewels.
And in the light of my human tendencies.
And in the 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 I pray that I may become aware of when I take what is not freely given. I pray that I may become aware 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 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 deluded passions.
We vow to transform them all.
Impassible are the Dharma teachings.
We vow to master them all.
Infinite is the Buddha's way.
We vow to fulfill it completely.
Don't want that.
That's my feedback for the book group. Maybe you might like to listen to that. It's quite good this week.
Or— oh, not recently.
There we go.
I get to look at these as I talk about, ah, this week's little bit. That's still rain on them. Not dew, is it?
Yeah, so this was a glimpse. I think week 1 I was putting this together, and it's still, still a work in progress. But yeah, always a work in progress, actually. There's always perhaps something you can add or think, oh, should I put that in or change that? Um, but this is as it is today. Um, so, um, as I was setting up, um, the Saturday morning practice, a bit like today really, perhaps a bit more calmer. We were running around today trying to sort out the technological side of things. Um, I noticed the shrine flowers Um, and they'd said they'd looked— well, a bit like today. They'd looked so beautiful from the previous week when they'd been picked from the temple garden. And as we were walking around the garden today, I'm amazed at the flowers in October still blooming. The, the, um, passion flower, isn't it, on the vine? Beautiful, utterly beautiful. But now these flowers were wilting and dying, becoming weaker, and they were bending towards the ground. And the big glorious Daisy, her head was drooping, the petals had dropped, and the pollen was scattered across the green shrine cloth. The edges of the leaves were turning brown, and some of the smaller flower buds that hadn't opened had dropped off. Life was fading slowly, naturally, and gracefully. These flowers had wilted, were beginning to wilt and fade over time. And at that point in time, I thought to myself, ah, Dave, must be on holiday or away because, um, I believe currently it's something that Dave does for the, for the shrine room. And it's a beautiful thing to be able to do. Remember, it was my job a few years ago, and, and a beautiful job he does, I might add. And the first time I noticed that the shrine flowers hadn't been replaced, and this was, oh, quite many, many years ago, I felt a sense of disrespect. How can this happen? Why haven't they been replaced? Who hasn't done their job? How embarrassing. What are people going to think? And all these mad— well, thought, are they rational thoughts, irrational thoughts? But these thoughts were running through my head at that time. But at that point in time, it was far late for me to do anything. I couldn't dash down into the garden and pick a fresh bouquet or run out. I used to sometimes run out and find there a couple of, we call them weeds, but those beautiful pink flowers that grow in the front. I could run out and pick some of those and pop them in if I'd had time. But at this point I didn't anyway. But I held on, I held onto these thoughts throughout service, kept glancing up, internally shaking my head and feeling a sense of sadness at their demise. But of course, this cycle is completely natural, and we're not surprised when flowers wilt and die. We're not surprised when their time has passed, particularly when we've picked them. And this cycle of beautiful, amazing, wonderful life— impermanence. And like the shrine flowers, I began thinking about times in my own life, feelings about change and impermanence. Do I embrace them? Do I still feel some resistance? Hmm. Instead of viewing these changes in life as perhaps unwanted or unwelcome, these negative feelings, clinging onto them as long as possible, could I actually look at them differently through a different lens, this lens of impermanence? And at that point, I remember reading an article in Tricycle, and I rapidly try to go and find it. I probably got the page up to say you've read too many articles and you need to subscribe, which I get frustratingly far too often. But for some, for Satya Robyn, for example, they'd written about a time in a person's life that might have been prosperous, that might be slowly disappearing or withering away, but that might be replacing something else or allowing something else to emerge. And by embracing these changes, perhaps instead of resisting them, we can rejuvenate aspects of our life which might be wilting or perhaps stagnating, replacing them with something new. Thinking about this, this dying vase of flowers and then replacing them with freshly picked ones. And only— and I wrote this week, I wrote this the week the tree in the Sycamore Gap was felled. And I was reminded when I wrote this of the felling of that tree at Sycamore Gap. And obviously, this week they've been doing more work, and there's more— it's still ongoing. But that huge collective sense of grief that has followed this act, as the tree was loved, and it was as beloved as our— took me back to our white-leaved oak. Which met its end, which met its end due to an unintended lantern. I remember how I felt about that. But however, amidst all this collective grief shared online and the speculation of who and why, One gentleman, and it's a link Caroline Brazier actually put up, Caroline Brazier put up, he's written about the tree's resilience and its ability to regrow, and it will arise like a phoenix from its ruin. And I know now we're many weeks later, they're thinking about what they're going to do and what they'll do. But this is life, isn't it?
Evolving.
Sometimes it's quiet and settled and fun, exciting, sometimes difficult, challenging, painful, almost always These phases pass, reminding us of, of life's impermanence, and we can work with them, we can embrace them, welcome new beginnings, and not perhaps get too caught up in these changes. So today I can look at these freshly arranged shrine— God, I can't get my teeth in— these freshly arranged shrine flowers, but for some reason, should they not get changed, I can still look at their beauty but in a different way, appreciating this cycle of life. The realization of impermanence is poignant, tinged with mourning, but yet also capable of recognizing the beauty of change in itself.
Namamitabhu. You creaks.
Namoha idamu namohami daburu namo pipo namohamida. Namoh Amida Buu. Namoh Amida Buu.
Namoh Amida Buu.
Namoh Amida Buu. Namo Amida.
In gratitude, we offer this incense to all Buddhas and Bodhisattvas throughout space and time. May it be fragrant as the Earth herself, reflecting our careful efforts, our wholehearted awareness and the fruits of understanding slowly ripening. May we and all beings be companions of Buddhas and Bodhisattvas. May we awaken from forgetfulness and realize our true life. Blessed by Amitabha's light, may we care for all living things and the holy earth. Yes, I'm on Sunday. So yes, any, any So curtaim on Sunday at 7:30.
7:30.
So I'll be here till my time. And I, I don't think I've got any other notifications, so we're going to try the new silent exit.
