People who follow our practice have spoken about how difficult they find the ceremonial forms we use. Some of that difficulty can be connected to how our forms hark back to what they were doing on Sundays as children. Yes, and there can be a bit of out with the old and in with the new attitude when looking for a new religion in later life. Such difficulties can come up on ones first encounter and the responses are varied. Most are sufficiently drawn towards meditation to give ‘the rest’ some space and time rather than up and leave. That was the case for me. Others go on to find a practice more suited to where they are in their spiritual search.

After many years of practice difficulties with aspects of form can have one going through the motions and eventually asking oneself, How can I honorably be here reciting scriptures with a confused and resentful heart? It happened to me. I was advise that I was not required to feel a certain way while singing and bowing. For example feeling devotional, uplifted, inspired, humble or grateful during a ceremony (or at any other time for that matter). The significant thing being to sit still within myself allowing thoughts and feelings to come and go while whatever is happening in the room continues. This would be the advice we would give for everyday meditation. Who would have thought of such a simple solution!

In the extracted quote below a reader and regular commenter reflects on being at a bonfire and fireworks celebration and notes a feeling of emptiness during it. As he put it, This is not the pregnant emptiness of our true nature but the hollow emptiness of jaded form.

Bringing oneself afresh each day, or each year, to events repeated over many years can be a challenge. I’d say the challenge is worth facing and likely to be productive of going deeper in ones encounter with life/form. The form, ones life?, might be a bit tarnished with age however the heart that’s present need not be.

I enjoyed the fireworks yet noticed too some sadness; a similar feeling to the one generated by new year’s eve. It’s the empty celebration. This is not the pregnant emptiness of our true nature but the hollow emptiness of jaded form. Yes it’s fun to see the display and be in a crowd of cheerful people yet somehow the very scale of the display and impersonal nature of the crowd left me feeling remote.
Holding no bough

This post is for Bill, mentioned in the above post, who has twelve months to live due to an advanced cancer. And with thanks to Dave.

I am still contemplating the Bodhisattva Vows in connection with ‘Goal of goallessness’ which was part of a conversation I was sitting in on the other week. One of the difficulties with appreciating the vows, the depth and profundity of them, is that we inevitably view them from our own individual and very personal perspective. Where else would we encounter them or any other part of our lives? This can and does change as gradually meditation/giving takes center stage. As was said, The vows give a direction to practice – altruism for example. The vows are obviously not something to aim for in terms of a goal to reach or an unimaginably high standard to aspire to. Such an aspiration, though understandable, ultimately fails us which leads to disappointment. Over many years of sincere practice the constant sense of failing oneself breeds a sad disappointment which ultimately has one giving up practice.

There is however a way that one ‘gives up’ which is very positive and productive spiritually. A looking-up-giving-up which sounds mad I know. So gradually it’s a matter of seeing the striving habit and the futility of it, in all spheres of life, which brings one to the JUST of ‘just sitting’, just walking, just sewing etc. That’s what I’d call ‘living the vow’ or at least one way of talking about it.

Many thanks to Andy who left a comment recently. It inspired me to write a bit more about vows and their place in religious practice.

There’s a Robin outside my window,
singing and chirping.
It’s been there
since before dawn.

Something in me
wants to respond.
To sing and chirp
the Robin song.

Clearly that’s
daft!
My one response
is to listen.

Is that all
to offer?
Well no,
a start though.

I’d intended to write about change (impermanence) this morning, there having been a whole lot of recent weeks for myself and many I’m in contact with. Within change the bird gives a tuneful teaching as it marks out its territory. Listen! Harken! The Robin’s song is about constancy, apparently they sing all year round. Bless ’em. I’d written about Constancy Within Change in connection with the prayer plant mentioned earlier.