Category Archives: Teachings

Writing Our Lives

Field barn door.
Field barn door.

I treated myself to egg, chips and beans the other lunchtime at a local cafe. Not something I do that often. The owner of the cafe handed me, an irregular customer, a next years diary. She’d given me a 2012 but I’d missed out on the 2013 unfortunately. Touched by her kindness I took her a pink geranium today, it had her name on it.

Here’s a quote from my 2012 cafe diary, chosen at random.

A peacefulness
follows any decision,
even the
wrong one.
Rita Mae Brown

Yes there is a peace which comes from taking a step and quite often it’s only later one knows if the decision was right or wrong. And sometimes what seems wrong at the time ends up right in the end and vice versa. Life is full of twists and turns and one rarely sees them coming! You could say we write our lives straight with crooked lines.

The photograph has nothing to do with this post. I was just transfixed by the nibbled door!

RIP Matty Cat

Mattie.jpg

I just heard that Matty died this morning. The following was published April 2011 giving background on this lovely sensitive cat. Matty was two weeks short of his 16th birthday. For the record Orlando, mentioned below, went missing from his home across the road on November 5th last year and never seen again.

As the proud companion & carer of a former Temple Cat from Reading Priory, one Matthew (Matty) Cat, aka as MC, I welcome Orlando to the (possible) status of Jade Mountains Temple Cat – perhaps. The Prior at Reading at that time was reluctant to take MC on as she knew she was away a lot. Being Siamese he attached strongly to one person & each time the prior went away he got more & more upset. Eventually he was shut in the utility room as he had wee’d in other rooms in the Temple!

One time the prior knew she would be away for several months. I had a vacancy in my household & heart for a cat & had been waiting for one to show up. I always remember the joy of having Matthew at first – it was like me & the dog became a family when he arrived to join us. He was fostered at first but everyone decided he should stay. He was a teenager then, now he’s 13 & still as handsome as ever. It is the only time I have experienced love at first sight when I first met him.

We grow close to our animal companions and their loss is felt no less keenly than the loss of human friends and companions. This post is for Matty and for Angie.

The Song of The Robin

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.

Listening for The Bell

Uh! There goes the bell for meditation. Better run. That’s the thing about living in community, there’s structure to the day. There’s a schedule of activities which the community follows and formal meditation is very much on the list. But just how much time is enough time to be sitting in formal meditation each day? People ask that question when they are about to leave after an introductory retreat. And people continue to ask that question, after years of practice. Is spending more time sitting better than less time?

Uh! There goes the bell at the end of meditation! That’s the thing about living in community, the bell is always ringing signalling the end of one activity and the start of another. My dad said he couldn’t live in the monastery, Too much like the army! he said. Too much regimentation, too much imposed discipline I’d imagine. What he and probably most people don’t see or understand is that you don’t stop sitting when the bell rings at the end of the formal meditation period.

Uh! There goes that bell again! It is the one that rings silently, an inner prompting, calling me to the next thing – to get to bed.

Being a Contemplative?

Through my twenties I knew I would end up being a contemplative. How I knew that I’ve not a clue, I just knew. And here I am many years later a member of a religious order, the Order of Buddhist Contemplatives. Who would have thought that possible considering I was not at all keen on ‘organised religion’, back then. As the years went by I waited for the right time to come when I’d know where to go to BE a contemplative. I’d imagined I’d need to go to India. And more importantly I was waiting for a clearer idea of what being a contemplative involved. As happens in life the right time did come, after many twists and turns. My understanding of what a contemplative life is/means has evolved although, to be honest, I rarely think about it.

A chance meeting and a certain set of circumstances came together to lead me towards this tiny corner of Buddhism and this tiny organization. As the years have passed since I first came to Throssel in the late 1970’s I’ve found myself grateful. That’s for having found Zen, for being able to practice as a monastic and for the huge impact that has made on my life. But the question this evening is, What is being a contemplative?. An interesting thought. What marks out the life of a contemplative?

At the moment I am spending some weeks in the monastery in Northumberland, Throssel Hole Buddhist Abbey. Tonight I joined a small group of younger monks for an informal tea. They were kind. It’s so nice to have you here Rev. Mugo. Blush. You don’t say much however you always seem to be listening!  Double blush! (I checked later and nobody remembers say that!) Well if that is what being a contemplative is, I’m happy with that.

A last thought:  what comes in through the ears and the other senses comes in when the doors and windows are open. You don’t need to go out hunting. That’s the best of it.

And you don’t need to be a monastic or a member of an organized religion to listen either.