Talk and elements meditation

Hopefully nobody will join, otherwise their face will just be what's recorded. But if that happens, it happens. So welcome again. I'm going to say a few words interspersed with some invitations to kind of tune in and do a little bit of guided practice, something like that. Where to begin? This morning I was reading an essay by I'll check the name. Alyssa Harrod. And, um, she was writing about the end of the world, apocalypses, this repeated experience of meeting endings, whether it was as a child in the planetarium being told the sun is going to expand and completely engulf the solar system and being like, oh, really affected until someone said it's not going to happen for 3 billion years' time. Or meeting friends who lived through the AIDS pandemic, or now coming into relationship with climate change and having lived in Texas through the ice storm and heat waves where the infrastructure just didn't work, and people were left without power and water, and emergency services couldn't get to people. And I think when we speak of loving the Earth, it's really important to make space for acknowledging impermanence and the feelings that emerge in us in response to that. And Alyssa Harrod's point in the essay was something like, how tempting it is to speak of climate change as the end of the world, and yet in some form or another, the world will continue with a smaller population. Perhaps of humans and of non-human animals, but something will carry on. And also how worlds are always ending for different communities all throughout history, whether it's smallpox arriving in the States and wiping out Indigenous populations when Europeans arrived, or the Romans appearing in Britain and converting all the, you know, shifting the culture away from what was here before. There's a loss in that as well, or even in our own personal lives. From small losses to the loss of things that we really love and care about. Impermanence is always here. And there is also some solace in impermanence as well, because in a wild ecosystem, if nothing is dying, there's no space and nourishment for new things to emerge. When big grazing animals like wild boar and sturdy cattle that are the closest relationships to the aurochs that we can find break through the woods and create openings. New life appears. Those are the places where wildflowers appear or temporary ponds appear. So there's always loss, but there's always something emerging as well. And what are we called to do? How are we called to respond in the face of all of this unfolding? As Buddhists, perhaps as human beings, we we're invited to respond with love, and that might take many different forms, but that is at the foundation. And it's easier for us to do that when we're rooted in this universal love that we call Amida Buddha. Here in this community. So I'll just invite you to go inside for a moment. And see if you can establish a sense of that universal love. You might bring an image of the Buddha to mind, or you might have your eyes open and gaze at the Buddha on the shrine. You might want to sort of locate— although the light is everywhere, for some people it's easier to locate it in a specific place. So, oh, I have a sense of it coming from here. And it may be that today it's tricky because your mind is busy, in which case just reminding yourself that, oh, it's here somewhere, like the sun behind the clouds. One of the first practices the Buddha gave to new disciples was the elements practice, inviting them to become aware that their bodies were made of the same stuff that the world was made of, partly to loosen people's attachment to their bodies and themselves, partly to begin to give them an experience of the deep connectedness we have with everything else. And of course, both of those things are the same, really, because when we come to understand the nature of ourselves and the nature of the world, and that there is some shared quality there, we stop being the only precious thing or the most precious thing in our own lives and begin to value the whole universe. The Buddha lived in a time where the world, his world was changing. His own community hadn't long changed, uh, into farmers. New centers of commerce were springing up and around and about. And at the same time, they weren't so far away in time from some of the indigenous ways of life. And maybe there were some communities keeping those alive in the forest where people would have understood in the way that many indigenous communities around the world still do, that I am a sibling to the moon, to the earth. For the sun is a parent, the moon is a parent. The trees and mountains and rivers and hawks and foxes are my cousins. And in this idea of interconnectedness, it's almost like he was trying to pick up some of this sense of inviting us to take part in a much broader community, valuing a much broader community. So now, having established that sense of the Buddha of universal love in our lives, I'll invite us to bring our attention to the elements in the way that the Buddha did. So beginning by noticing the places in our bodies that are solid, the traditional earth element. So recognizing bones and teeth and nails. I'm trusting that these things are loved. Bringing to mind the solidity of the earth. Noticing the solidity of the building that we're in, the earth beneath that, the ancient Malvern stone. Trusting that these two are loved, perhaps noticing the Buddha's light shining on you, moving through you, meeting the earth. Perhaps noticing that these solid things are also loving us somehow. Bring to mind The wetness of our bodies, the blood and saliva. Human bodies are mostly water. And the Buddha's love is flowing towards this. And bringing to mind the wetness of the Earth. The Earth's surface is about two-thirds water. There's clouds and rain in the sky and water in plants and animals. All of this is loved. The light coming from the Buddha into our own hearts and towards the world. And perhaps noticing that these wet places in the world are also loving us. And now bringing to mind the fire in our own bodies. The fire is heat, energy, movement, the movement of our heart, the warmth of our bodies, vitality, change. And this fire element, this quality is also loved. And bring to mind the fire element in the world, the magma underneath the Earth's crust, its surface warmed by the sun, the movement and life of other bodies, fire in the heart. In this way, we're the same as all beings and the whole universe. And all beings and the whole universe are loved, and all of those hot things are sending love towards us. And finally, bring to mind the Air element, the breath we take in and release transformed. Noticing the air all around us. All of this too bathed by the Buddha's light. So here we are, living beings made of the same stuff as the universe, all receiving the loving kindness of the Buddha. And each of us with the potential to radiate that back into the world and to act upon that radiance. Perhaps I'll finish by describing two kinds of spiritual experience that are talked about in Japanese Pure Land literature. One is the spiritual experience of the Buddha's light is shining on me alone. I, I am the one receiving all the attention. I'm the one receiving all the loving kindness. And it's often, I think, It's that that breaks through when we're feeling a bit worse for the wear, a bit wretched, and suddenly are reminded, oh, there is something here for me. Like when a loved one comes and tends to us when we're sick, and in that moment we are the one receiving all of their attention.. And the other, I can't remember the Japanese names for these, I'm afraid. And the other one is the experience, the experience of, oh, the Buddha's light is everywhere. They're loving all sentient beings, which sometimes can be hard for me to get my head around, like, but I don't like them, and I'm not sure I want them to be included right now. But nonetheless, sometimes I really get the sense that, oh, it is everybody. It is everybody who is loved. And you can say, well, how can they possibly be compatible? How can it be just me that's receiving it and everybody? And maybe that goes back to what I was saying about Paul T. receiving equipment. They both describe two important truths. And inspired by both of these kinds of experiences, we may find that sometimes we are in the position of the one who is doing the loving. We are the person who is completely tending to another person, another living being. A bird that we found at the side of the road, a dying plant that we rescued from a garden center. Or sometimes we take that step back and ask, okay, how can my practice tend to the whole world? Which is of course in some ways impossible as an individual. And yet we can have that spirit, and it can be a really useful place to stand open to everything and loving everything, and, and then coming from that place into individual action. So I guess this morning I'm inviting us to notice and reflect upon how we are all made of the same stuff. The Earth isn't something distinct from us. Other living beings aren't as distinct from us as we would like to think. And in that connection or around that connection, there is a field of loving kindness that we can recognize and be supported by and tap into, even if occasionally, uh, we behave as if it weren't the case. And that in all of those systems there is impermanence and change and fading away. And whilst there is some solace in things changing and, and new growth, there is also an invitation for tenderness. And the more that we can remind ourselves, oh yeah, I'm in this field of loving kindness, there is something here, the easier it is for us to feel tender towards other living beings. And with tenderness comes tending an impulse to act and to take care of things. Namamitabhu. Namamitabhu. So there is— we have got some time if anybody would like to offer a few words, a reflection, or ask a question, but no pressure.