‘Twenty years ago at a conference I attended of theologians and professors of religion, an Indian Christian friend told the assembly, “We are going to hear about the beauties of several traditions, but that does not mean we are going to make a fruit salad.” When it came to my turn to speak, I said, “Fruit salad can be delicious! I have shared the Eucharist with Father Daniel Berrigan, and our worship became possible because of the sufferings we Vietnamese and Americans shared over many years.” … I do not see any reason to spend one’s whole life tasting just one kind of fruit. We human beings can be nourished by the best values of many traditions.’

So begins Thich Nhat Hanh’s book ‘living buddha, living christ’, the first of his books that I read.

I, too, like fruit salad, and I love to learn about other people’s faiths and how they apply that faith in their lives.

I have, however, learnt that in this as in everything else, moderation is essential. Otherwise it is quite possible to end up with spiritual indigestion. I learnt this very clearly over a memorable few days when I overate physically and spiritually.

On a Saturday evening during a course at Woodbrooke learning about Islam, our group went to a mosque in Birmingham and then on to a Sufi gathering nearby. At the mosque we were shown round and given plenty of opportunity to ask questions, and offered refreshments (we managed not to consume too much, we were already well fed since we were staying at Woodbrooke). The Sufis welcomed us to their evening of chanting and recalling the name of Allah. We were encouraged to join in if we wished (I did wish) and I felt very much at home (if I lived in Birmingham I probably would have found a way to go there again). This was followed by an opportunity to talk and ask questions very informally over delicious tea, pakoras, and lots of other food. It was impossible not to eat while listening and learning in fascination.

Having returned home, Monday evening was our regular monthly SGI Buddhist discussion meeting. After the chanting, teaching, discussion and entertainment, there was (you’ve guessed) tea and cake. It was someone’s birthday so there was more cake than usual, which could not politely be refused. Lots more spiritual experience and learning, lots more cake.

Tuesday evening was the appointed time for our local Interfaith association AGM. An interesting speaker giving more food for thought, followed by refreshments and a chance to talk and listen to one another. All thoroughly enjoyable and fascinating, but I was beginning to feel overloaded by it all. Just so much to take in. Physical and spiritual indigestion.

Fortunately the rest of the week was rather quieter. Overall I don’t regret any of this. It may have been easier if it had been more spaced out, but it is often necessary to seize the opportunities to share and learn (and eat) together when they occur.

Like the opportunity I had a few years ago to attend a meeting at the Zoroastrian centre at Rayners Lane. There are not many Zoroastrians, and hence they have very few centres outside India,and we are blessed that this one is so close to us. There was a formal large scale interfaith meeting in the afternoon, with an invitation to stay afterwards for a fire ceremony and then a meal (yes, more food). I was able to accept the invitation to stay into the evening, and it was a delight and privilege to experience the ceremony, even if I had little understanding of what was happening. Sharing the meal afterwards gave us a chance to get to know a few of the other visitors and some of the Zoroastrians, to learn more about their traditions and what had happened during the ceremony. After the meal, we were privileged to be taken upstairs to the worship area, at the top of this converted cinema,where a flame is kept burning continuously and people can pray privately as well as participate in community ceremonies.

I confess that my regular spiritual practice is a form of fruit salad. I like to sit on the floor, and often use an incense stick or a candle as an aid to meditation (though the meditation may become expectant waiting or upholding prayer). The prayer beads that I was given by a Krishna devotee (with a lesson in how to chant Hare Krishna) are another favourite aid to centring down, or are wrapped round my wrist as an aid to remembering all those who need to be prayed for and upheld. I try to be mindful as I walk, wash the dishes, prepare food and generally go about my daily life (though I forget very frequently). I attend meeting for worship once or twice a week, sangha meetings when I can, intefaith gatherings likewise, and, yes, will chant almost anything with any group that practises that way. As a Buddhist friend once commented to me (having just suggested to one person in our discussion group that the practice was there, she was welcome to ‘suck it and see’ if it suited her) ‘the trouble with you is that you don’t just want taste one sort of sweet, you want to try one from every jar in the shop!’ He was right,and that’s probably why I still get spiritual indigestion from time to time. But I’m unrepentant about liking fruit salad (and cake too!).

Following Luanne’s example, and since this post has been all about food, here are some recipes:

Fruit Salad

Take a selection of fresh fruit (you can use fruit that is slightly damaged or bruised, just cut those bits out), about one serving per person.

Eg for four, 1 apple, 1 banana, 1 pear, 1 orange.

Clearly this works well for 4 people or more, if there are only one or two people, you do need to make enough to serve them several times. One sliced apple for one person really isn’t a fruit salad.

Any fruit that you would eat fresh is fine. Cut into pieces and mix in a bowl with some fruit juice.

Tinned fruit (and the juice it comes in) or fruit that has been preserved by freezing can be used alongside the fresh fruit. A splash of liqueur is a good addition if alcohol is acceptable to all who will be eating it. Serve alone, or with cream, ice cream, custard or Swedish Glacé (for vegans)

Photo: P Grant www.petespcs.co.uk

Fruit Teabread or Bara Brith

A reliable contribution for Quaker teas, study groups, interfaith AGMs, school fêtes, cake stalls and all manner of other occasions (especially as you get 2 loaves each time and it improves with keeping in an airtight container for up to four weeks)

Soak 1lb mixed dried fruit (use as wide a mixture as you like or have to hand) and 6oz sugar (any sort) in ½ pt warm tea over night or about 8hours.

Then mix in 1lb flour (I use ½ & ½ wholemeal/plain and 1 teaspoon baking powder, but all wholemeal works well too, or use self-raising and omit the baking powder), 1 egg (or use ‘no egg’ for a vegan version) and 2 tablespoons marmalade. Mix well, divide between 2 greased 1lb loaf tins and cook for about 1½ hours at gas mark 3. Allow to cool for 10 minutes in the tins before turning out on to a wire rack to finish cool. When cool store until required ,or just slice and eat, with or without butter.

Interfaith Pilgrimage – a Spiritual Fruit Salad

Westminster Interfaith organise excellent day long pilgrimages for peace in early June each year, visiting 5 or 6 different places of worship, often including the chance to participate in worship in at least one of them. Different places are visited each year. A good lunch is traditionally provided by a Sikh organisation from Birmingham. Travel may be by coach or by public transport, depending on the location.

Watford Interfaith Association run a smaller scale version each November visiting a synagogue, a mosque, 2 churches and a gurdwara, all within walking distance of each other for people of average fitness. It is good to walk together and talk along the way, but a car can be used if necessary. The fire brigade usually accompany the party, to learn and to support rather than because we are at risk of fires. The synagogue provide tea and cakes to set us up for the walk, the mosque will provide sweets and drinking water to sustain anyone who is flagging, and at the gurdwara a meal awaits the pilgrims at the end of the day.

Four noble truths, five precepts, five mindfulness trainings, five contemplations, fourteen mindfulness trainings, the list could easily go on. I remember Jim Pym observing that Buddhism is a religion of lists, though I’m sure the lists are just intended as a way to help people remember the key points, and some people’s memory does work that way (mine does, at least to some extent) and others does not.

You can easily look up versions of these lists, so I’m not repeating them here. What I’d like to share is something of my own responses to the five mindfulness trainings, a modern version of the five precepts for lay Buddhists. As evidence that they are not necessarily to be taken as a word for word precious thing, the exact wording is changed fairly often and you may well come across different versions. I have more than one in front of me as I write.

My first real encounter with the five mindfulness trainings was at the Nottingham Retreat that Thay led in 2010. An evening session early in the retreat was devoted to five people sharing their personal experience of working with one of the trainings in their everyday lives. I came out of the session realising that what the way the mindfulness trainings were asking us to live was completely in line with the way I had long been trying to live my life guided by Advices and Queries, and with the very clear idea that I could take the step of formally receiving the trainings. The trainings can read as very prescriptive, but in preparatory discussion in my dharma sharing group we were assured that they were like the North Star, they guide us in the right direction although we will never actually get there.

A requirement placed upon those receiving the trainings is that they should study and recite them regularly, preferably with a sangha, and at least once in three months, to maintain the effectiveness of the transmission. Not seeing a way at the time to join a formally organised sangha, I took up my daughter’s offer of support in this. We agreed to read the trainings together once a month, on or about the anniversary of the transmission I’d received (she went on to formally receive the trainings in 2012). This we have done, and occasionally I’ve been able to do so in a wider group, especially during a few days at Woodbrooke in 2011 which were devoted to considering the Five Mindfulness Trainings and Advices and Queries*, and, during 2013, at meetings of the Heart of London Sangha.

At sangha meetings we tend to simply read the trainings aloud, allowing each person to respond to themselves whether or not they have made progress in applying that trainings in their own lives. Unfortunately, time is sometimes short and the reading is rushed. Personally, I’d like a little more quiet between each one to consider more fully (there speaks my Quaker self, I think).

With Rhiannon, I find we usually need about an hour. We read each training and then discuss any aspect of it that has struck us anew as we read it, or has caused us difficulty recently, or we feel we don’t understand, or we have seen in a new light. Yesterday we did this month’s practice. We decided to read them in a different order, which ended up being third, fifth, first, fourth, second. This showed up very clearly the links between them. When we’d discussed them in my dharma sharing group at Nottingham in 2010, someone had asked ‘do you have to take all five?’, to which the response was ‘no, you can receive one, two, three, four or all five – but be warned, each of them actually encompasses all the others’. Reading them in a different order really highlighted that to us. For example: ‘generosity in my thinking, speaking and acting’, ‘cultivat[ing] openness, non-discrimination, and non-attachment’, ‘cultivating loving kindness, compassion, joy and inclusiveness’, ‘speaking truthfully using words that inspire confidence, joy and hope’, ‘cultivating loving speech and compassionate listening’, ‘coming back to the present moment to be in touch with the refreshing, healing and nourishing elements in me and around me’ – all leading to a positive attitude that helps to promote and ‘preserve peace, joy, and well-being in my body and consciousness, and in the collective body and consciousness of my family, my society and the Earth’.

Parts that particularly and persistently challenge me include ‘not to possess anything that should rightfully belong to others’ – how far can I go with this? I ask myself, I have clean water to spare (enough to flush my toilet with) while others do not have clean water to drink – ‘do everything in my power to protect children from sexual abuse’ – what more could I do? And how? I certainly should get on with ensuring that children’s meeting helpers are DBS checked, help those children and young people I am in contact with to be able to speak out about things that concern them, but what else may be ‘in my power’? In other places I am irked by the very specific detail of the wording, there can be more power in the understatement and openendedness of the Advices and Queries. Though I remind myself also of the first of the fourteen mindfulness trainings ‘… we are determined not to be idolatrous about or bound to any doctrine, theory, or ideology, even Buddhist ones. We are committed to seeing the Buddhist teachings as guiding means that help us develop our understanding and compassion. …’

And then there is the key difference between these two sets of guiding words, Advices and Queries also talks about God, but maybe that difference will be the subject of another post another day.

* I have a lovely little booklet that puts the five mindfulness trainings alongside extracts from Advices and Queries which I purchased in response to an item in ‘Here and Now‘. It also has a brief introduction to both traditions, but the author has not included her name except for ‘Lesley’ on the hand-written note that accompanied my copy, so I can’t now tell you how to obtain a copy.

This I have heard:

When I breathe in, I know that I am breathing in

When I breathe out, I know that I am breathing out

When I breathe in, I know that I am alive

This is enlightenment, a little enlightenment

I heard this in one of Thay‘s dharma talks at Nottingham in April 2012 and it has stayed with me. The idea of a dharma talk is just to listen, to let the words sink into you, not to take notes – you will hear what you need to hear, which will be different for different people.

So, this bit has stayed with me. Clearly ‘know’ here is not know as in I can regurgitate for the examiner, it is something much deeper. Like the psalmist’s ‘know’ in ‘be still and know that I am God‘. When I truly know, I won’t be aware of my knowing, I will just be.

So, I just sit with it and, maybe, let it sink into me a bit deeper.

After our relaxation, and a little sleep, I awoke refreshed.

We were now offered a short explanation about how we ‘Touch the Earth’ (prostrate) in the tradition of Thich Nhat Hanh, reassured that we need not do so if we were not comfortable doing so, but invited to participate if we wished to. I was happy to join in, I like to actually participate in the activities of other faith groups, to get a feel for how it may be to belong to that tradition.

Think about your ancestors, your blood ancestors, we were invited. Your parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, and their parents and grandparents before them. See them as people with ideals and problems just like everybody else. They all did the best they could for you, but they also made mistakes, knowingly or unknowingly, just as we do for our children and their children. Keep the best things they did for you and let the mistakes go. Let the mistakes return to the earth. At this point we prostrated ourselves (cushioned by the sleeping mats) and spent some time in silence with our feet, knees, hands and foreheads on the ground. Touching the Earth.

Standing again, we were invited to think of our land ancestors, those who had been in this place before us, in the place we have come to make our home, even if it was not the place where we were born. In so many ways the people who have lived here before us have made the land the way it is now. They too did their best, but they too made mistakes Keeping the best that we can learn and accept from them, we touch the earth and let the rest go.

When we are standing once more, we are invited to think of our spiritual ancestors. They may come from the tradition we grew up with, from one we have joined, from others we have learnt about. Some examples were offered: Jesus, Moses, Gandhi, George Fox, … space left to add our own. They too were not perfect, but they did their best. We touch the earth again.

The meditation continued through two more earth touchings, though I don’t now remember the content of the guidance.

I had heard of this profound way of connecting with our ancestors, but not experienced it before. It made a deep impression on me.

I have since participated in similar exercises several times. One in which the guidance invited us to remember of ourselves as a five year old child. Then to remember our parent, to think of them as a five year old child, to see things through their eyes then.

I wasn’t sure how this affected me, until I went out with my camera later that day. As I looked through the viewfinder at the plants in the garden, I realised that I was looking through my father’s eyes. He who photographed me so often in my early years; who taught me not only how a camera worked and how to use it, how to process the film and print the pictures, but also how to see the world through the lens and hope to capture something of it.

Besides this formal touching the earth practice, I have become aware of the spiritual importance of actual contact with the earth in my daily life. In meditation we are encouraged to sit with buttocks and knees firmly on the ground (or a cushion), or, if sat in a chair to be aware of our seat on the chair and both feet flat on the floor (many Quakers find this helpful in settling into worship). In walking meditation we are aware of our feet on the floor, or the ground outside (I love to do a walking meditation barefoot in Woodbrooke’s labyrinth). I find this very helpful when walking in my daily life (though I go somewhat faster than in formal walking meditation), it keeps me grounded in the present time and place. At least, it does when I remember to do it. However, since I tend to trip if I forget, I get a lot of reminders.

I have also come to understand that practical activities that actually, or almost, involve touching the physical earth can be deeply spiritual, and spiritually, as well as physically, grounding. I call them ‘getting my hands dirty’ activities. Actual gardening is probably best, weeding, sowing, harvesting, digging (when I can). Cooking, especially straight forward meal preparation, preferably with plenty of vegetable washing and chopping, is excellent too. Mixing bread dough by hand and washing up are good. Other hands on activities such as knitting and sewing are also helpful. I’m sure you can find your own examples. Incorporating some of these into my daily routines is important, rather than getting too involved in writing, reading, thinking, talking, discussing and other ‘head stuff’ all the time. Keeping my feet, literally and metaphorically, well grounded.

Now to go and wash the kale and mushrooms for our supper …

I came into the room and there were sleeping mats, pillows and blankets everywhere. People were sitting and lying down on the floor. The sight reminded me of a girl guide sleepover, though there wasn’t nearly as much noise.

So I got a mat and a blanket and joined in. I’ve done a lot of different things in Woodbrooke‘s quiet room over the years. Quaker Worship most mornings that I’ve been there, lots of sessions led by tutors, lots of sharing and listening in pairs and small groups, some drawing, a party and some circle dancing, but nothing quite like this.

The guided meditation that followed began in a fairly familiar way with thinking of parts of our bodies and consciously relaxing them, but I soon found myself falling asleep to the sound of the facilitator singing ‘twinkle, twinkle little star’.

When I awoke, another new experience was to follow … but that is the subject for my next post …

It still amazes me how this practice actually sends nearly everybody right off to sleep. Even in a conference centre hall with 400-500 people, when I woke a bit sooner than most, I realised how many of us had slept. Very refreshing it is too.

There are also some simpler relaxation meditations (see The Blooming of the Lotus) that I have found easy to use lying in bed at home when everything has felt a bit too much to cope with.

We all have people we find difficult. Mine include a next door neighbour who’s views about gardening differ vastly from my own; most of our political leaders; my parent-in-law; (from time to time) my spouse; all cold callers on the telephone; I could go on … I’m sure you can rapidly come up with your own list.

One of the lessons I once came away from an SGI discussion meeting with was ‘that difficult person could be your best friend’. I pinned the phrase by my telephone for some time, to help me deal pleasantly with the cold callers.

The idea is not so much that I will become best buddies with the cold caller, but that in responding to the difficult person I have the chance to grow. Believing that we all (including myself and whichever difficult person is bothering me just now) have an ‘inner buddha nature’, if I can allow my inner buddha nature to respond to their inner buddha nature we will both feel better after our encounter and I will have watered positive seeds in myself. It remains a challenge every time. I still want to be clever/cruel and score points over the cold caller. It helps considerably if I treat the telephone ring as a bell of mindfulness and take three breaths before answering. If I allow my inner buddha nature to respond to their inner buddha nature I benefit so much from the opportunity that I become thankful to them for the chance to grow and they are my ‘best friend’ because they have given me this opportunity. With a person that I meet frequently there will be multiple opportunities of this type. (Quakers reading this should feel free to substitute the phrase ‘answering that of God in everyone’ for ‘ my inner buddha nature responding to their inner buddha nature’.)

Another Buddhist practice that has helped me considerably in relating to difficult people is metta (loving-kindness) mediation. This encourages us to send metta to specific people (ourself, a loved one, a neutral person and a difficult person) and then broaden this out to include all people and all sentient beings. For a while I practised this weekly with family members and we all found it helpful, especially in relating to particular difficult people in our lives. We would take turns to read the sections of the guided meditation, leaving silence between each section. Currently this practice has lapsed, maybe we’ll revive it some time. I’ll reproduce here the wording we use. Do use it as is or adapt it to your liking (or totally ignore it …).

Start by thinking of yourself, your body and mind.

Think of yourself as someone that you love. Wish yourself well in every way.

Flood your body – particularly any areas that are suffering – with thoughts of love and compassion.

As you breth in, fill your mind with thoughts of peace,

And as you breath out, think of letting go of stress and tension.

‘May I be well and happy, and may my mind be at peace.’

Now think of someone that you love.

Think of them, and send them your love and compassion, wishing them well .

‘May they be well and happy, and may their minds be at peace.’

Now think of someone that you know but do not know well.

Think of them, and send them your love and compassion, wishing them well .

‘May they be well and happy, and may their minds be at peace.’

Now think of someone you hate or resent.

Think of them, and send them your love and compassion, wishing them well .

‘May they be well and happy, and may their minds be at peace.’

Now think of yourself, your friend, the neutral person and the difficult person.

See all four of you together, and wish all four people well. Try to do this equally for all four of your, and notice any tendency to ‘play favourites’ by wishing your friend more happiness than the others.

May they be well and happy, and may their minds be at peace.’

Now spread your well-wishing out in wider and wider circles, until you are wishing that all sentient beings are well and happy, and their minds are at peace.

‘May all beings be well and happy

May they know joy and peace, love and compassion.

May any merit gained from this practice be shared with them, with all suffering beings’.

And remember with gratitude ‘I am one of those beings’.

With thanks to Jim Pym ‘You don’t have to sit on the floor’ and www.wildmind.org/metta/

What’s the difference between meditation and meeting for worship?

This question is asked so often, by all sorts of people. Some may be Quakers with long experience of meeting for worship, but little experience of meditation. Others may be Buddhists with much experience of meditation but little or no experience of Quaker worship. Still others may have little experience of either tradition, but have read about them and are puzzled by the apparent similarity.

Of course, I have to begin my reply in a typical Quaker fashion by saying ‘it depends what you mean by …’

Most commonly, I think, that by ‘meeting for worship’ people mean the unprogrammed Quaker meeting based in silence as usually practised by Quakers in Britain and also by some Quakers in America. By meditation they mean one of the forms of silent meditation such as mindfulness of breathing or a silent mantra meditation where the attention is returned, every time it wanders, to a word or phrase. (This is typically associated with Buddhism, but occurs in many other traditions too.)

When a group of people are sat together in silence it is very hard, and probably impossible, to tell what any one of them is actually doing.

If the reason for gathering is a meditation group, most, probably all, of those present would say that they were meditating (or trying to). It is usually held to be a individual activity, even though people do gather together to practice.

If the reason for the gathering is a meeting for worship and those present were asked what they were doing, answers would probably include ‘listening to God’, ‘enjoying the peace and quiet’, ‘listening to the Light’, ‘thinking’, ‘seeking guidance’ and ‘meditating’. Probably most would say that meeting for worship is essentially a communal experience, and would note the expectation that one or more people may be moved to speak. Speaking in a silent meditation group would generally be considered inappropriate.

There was a time when I was sure that I understood the difference, and that the key was that meditation is individual, meeting for worship is communal. Then I heard Thich Nhat Hanh speaking about the importance of being in a sangha and of the something different that happens when we meditate together. I understood him to be talking about that difference that I encounter when I meet for worship with others instead of having a ‘quiet time’ at home alone. In Quaker speak I heard that his words came from experience, an experience that I shared. So then I didn’t know the difference any more.

And this month my calendar is reminding me that in 1652 George Fox wrote:

Stand still in that which is pure, after ye see yourselves; and then mercy comes in. After thou seest thy thoughts, and the temptations, do not think, but submit; and then power comes. Stand still in that which shows and discovers; and then doth strength immediately come. And stand still in the Light, and submit to it, and the other will be hushed and gone; and then content comes.      QF&P 20.42

Which, though written by a Quaker, seems to me to be a good description of meditation …

Or maybe it’s like my father loved to ask us as children:

‘What’s the difference between a mouse?’

To which his answer was: ‘One of its legs is both the same.’

I’ve been attending mornings of mindfulness with the Heart of London Sangha since last April. My attendance is erratic, certainly not weekly, but at least once a month. My motivation for attending has been to follow Thay’s* advice about the importance of belonging to a sangha, to see if this sangha is the right place for me at this time, but also to find out about how a Community of Interbeing sangha works and is run with a view to possibly starting a sangha nearer to home. There was also (I have to admit) the added incentive of the opportunity to meet up with a friend who has also been attending these meetings.

One of the features of Heart of London sangha meetings is the centrepiece, something I hadn’t encountered before. I don’t know why things are done this way, and I haven’t yet asked questions. What follows are my personal observations and reactions.

This sangha usually meets in a Quaker meeting house, which is quite common, and a comfortable space for me to be in. The chairs are cleared from the centre of the room and mats and cushions arranged around a central space. There is no obligation to sit on the floor (though probably about half of us choose to) and plenty of chairs are left around the mats.

In the centre of the central space is the centrepiece. It usually consists of a rectangle of coloured cloth on which are arranged various objects, usually including a Buddha statue, some natural materials (flowers, stones, leaves), often some nightlights, occasionally small items of food. Sometimes it becomes clear during the course of the morning that the decoration in the centre reflects the theme of the morning, which will also show in the guided meditation and the dharma reading or talk. The centrepiece also features strongly in the sharing session, when those wishing to share are invited to bow to the sangha (who bow in response) and to pick up an object from the centrepiece. While holding the object, the sangha’s attention is devoted to that person, whether they speak or remain silent. This is similar to a practice sometimes called the ‘talking stick’ or ‘magic microphone’, that I have encountered elsewhere, and use extensively when facilitating Quaker groups. My personal choice of ‘talking stick’ is often a pink, cuddly elephant known as Lizzie – although sometimes another object is more appropriate.

Sometimes the centrepiece is very simple and I warm to it. Anything very understated tends to appeal to my Quaker self. Sometimes the centrepiece is much praised and I am not sure about that at all. Sometimes there seem to be a desire to make provide an exceptional centrepiece that will be much admired and I feel that is somehow inappropriate.

For a Quaker meeting in Britain, where most people will sit on benches or chairs (sitting on the floor isn’t forbidden, but isn’t common), it is usual to have the chairs arranged around a central space in which we put a table. On the table are usually some flowers and some books (usually the Bible and Quaker Faith and Practice). In my home meeting we also put books for children, a water jug and glasses, a collection plate and a printed copy of the notices – things people may want access to, but the table actually ends up quite cluttered.

What is the purpose of the ‘centrepiece’ in these contexts?

In the Quaker context I think it is to allow easy access to things we might want during the worship and, especially in the case of the flowers, to help make the room looked ‘lived in’ and inviting. I feel that the flowers are best kept simple, preferably picked from what is readily available,and if that is dead leaves and seed heads, so be it. Our meeting house has a fairly extensive garden, so this is not difficult. Sometimes the ‘centrepiece’ inspires spoken ministry during worship – most commonly what’s known as ‘daffodil ministry’. American Friends generally reject the central table as preventing people seeing others across the room and leave an empty space in the centre.

In the Buddhist context, setting the scene and making the room feel welcoming and inviting is also part of the purpose. Helping us to centre down into meditation may be another purpose, and I do find this can be helpful, especially if the centrepiece is kept simple. If it reflects the theme of the day’s teaching in a different, non-verbal, way this can also be helpful.

At home I don’t have a specific place for meditation practice, I just move a small table into a space, light an incense stick, perhaps add a Buddha statue, or some flowers, and sit in front of that on my cushion. I find this helpful in delineating some time and space for meditation. The burning incense stick helps to indicate the passage of time, encouraging me to persist for long enough, but not to sit all day (and some days I happily would!). If I feel more inclined to a Quaker ‘quiet time’ than a Buddhist meditation, I would usually sit on a chair, and on my table light a candle (I shouldn’t leave it burning unattended, so that helps to keep me sat), possibly adding a suitable book or some flowers (if they are readily to hand). Sometimes having something simple to focus my eyes on is helpful, it can even act as visual mantra to which I can keep returning my attention, when it wanders (as it inevitably will). Again, it’s primarily about setting aside this space and time for the purpose. Clearly the ‘centrepiece’ at the morning of mindfulness is also, in part, about this setting aside time and space for the important activity of meditating together which is significant in bringing the sangha together.

* Thay (Vietnamese for teacher) is the name commonly used among his followers for Thich Nhat Hahn, and also the name he calls himself by when he speaks.

Continue reading →

The Buddhist concept of bodhisattva is quite complex and varies somewhat in different traditions. But this is a blog, not a dictionary, so I’m not getting into detailed definitions.

What I want to share is my experience of one of those moments when learning about another tradition suddenly sheds light the tradition I come from. I was reading Buddhism by Denise Cush (a book targeted at A level students when published in 1994) on the topic of the Bodhisattva. I read:

‘The infinite compassion of a bodhisattva means that he or she puts the happiness of all beings in the universe before his or her own, not resting until every being in the universe is saved. In order to accomplish this, he or she is willing to suffer anything, even if it means giving up his or her life over and over again.’

Suddenly, it occurred to me that if I viewed Jesus as a bodhisattva, this shed a new light on his crucifixion and, perhaps, his resurrection. A being of such compassion that he would suffer anything, even laying down his life. In that moment it showed me that there could be a reason for the crucifixion. It was another step on the way to a deeper understanding of who and what Jesus was and/or is, whether or not his story is historically true. I don’t necessarily think of Jesus exclusively as a bodhisattva, but I still find this way of viewing him helpful at times.

As a Buddhist I aspire to follow the path of a bodhisattva, as a Christian I try to follow the example of Jesus, as a Quaker I attempt to take heed of the ‘promptings of love and truth’ which I trust as ‘the leadings of God’. I find all these approaches compatible. I often find that one approach sheds light on another and helps me to see my way forward.