At university I studied mathematics and physics, but kept a fairly intense side interest in what I would have loosely termed Eastern philosophy, mainly through books. When I popped into the university bookshop one day, as I was inclined to do, a friend who worked at the shop put into my hands a new edition of The Tibetan Book of the Dead. I remember having this very strong feeling that what I was holding was a holy book. The word 'holy' was not even a word I would have been comfortable with in my vaguely anti-Christian biases. Though at the time the text proved largely incomprehensible to me, it sparked a sense of connection with something 'beyond-this-world'. Something in me responded with a sense of reverence and awe for something I did not understand and could not even begin to articulate. Staying connected with that sense of awe, wonder and unknowing continues as an important reminder to me of the limitations of my knowledge.
Purna, Auckland New Zealand
Why haven't my wife and I divorced? Married at 24; separated at 62. Maybe we just can't be bothered. Six years have passed since our separation, and here I am in the forested mountains of Spain — so unfamiliar, so uncomfortable, so unyielding, and definitely so far from home in Sydney.
I'm on a work retreat at a Triratna Buddhist Centre outside of Alicante, Spain. I'm deeply asleep in my little hut when Morpheus visits. I'm young again and at the Walcha Golf Club in rural Australia. The music is soft rock. It is the 1960s, and we young teachers are at our regular Saturday night haunt. I'm there with my then-girlfriend, later wife, deep in the intoxication of youth, swinging along, laughing, dancing, drinking, and ecstatically happy. The dream is vivid, alive, wonderfully joyful.
And then I'm suddenly awake!
What is this? I'm 68, separated, and lying very alone in a tiny hut in the Spanish mountains. No golf club, no girl to slide my arm around, no beer at hand, no laughing mates...
Aha, this is impermanence. This dream is about impermanence. Impermanence is not, as I thought, being born and then dying, growing from a seed, then falling to the axe, coming into the world yelling, then leaving with a whimper. In a flash, my dream took my shallow understanding to new depths of wonderment.
No, no, no, my dream was challenging me. Impermanence is every moment of being, every second of this life, every laugh and every sob, moments of suffering, joy, and even boredom. Impermanence is life itself—precious passings. My realisation continued: live every single moment fully and with wonder and awareness, for this second will not come again. Never would this life be the same. Why squander these precious seconds?
Dharmagtu, Sydney Australia
After getting cancer, I was naturally anxious. My tool of choice to calm my mind and relax was meditation. Unfortunately, it wasn't working. Between my many appointments and not knowing what's going on, my mind was racing. My Aha was that I needed to meditate on good days. The analogy that struck me was that on good days the temptation is to lie on a yacht (I live in Sydney where we have a beautiful harbour) and soak up the sun, but NO, that's the time to mend the sails and repair the leaks because when the storms come (and they will) you can't sail through the storm and try to repair the yacht at the same time. Similarly, when the storm came in my life, I relied on my 'meditation credits' to draw on when I was being buffeted, because meditation can be so much harder then. My meditation credit was my repair and strengthening of myself. When you are in the middle of a storm, repairing a boat or meditating is so much more difficult...you have to rely on the good work you have done to ground and secure your boat/mind in good times.
Viryamuni, Sydney Australia
On a recent retreat, I was sitting by a river and looking at the different patterned formations in the water and noticing the trees growing by the side of the river bank. I noticed the uniqueness of each water formation and was fascinated. I reflected on how each formation was a phenomenon conditioned by the rock formations that preceded it, the amount of debris that preceded it and the amount of rainfall the night before amongst many other factors. Similarly, I noticed that each tree was a unique phenomenon because of its conditions. Each formation was unique in itself - never to be repeated - like the uniqueness of each snowflake. It struck me that each of us human beings are also a phenomenon - each of us unique, original, fascinating, never to be repeated - and in this way each of us as a phenomenon is phenomenal! This gave me a greater appreciation of how special every living being is - even the ones that annoy us!
Viryamuni, Sydney Australia
Life was going pretty good for me - I had just finished a nice holiday across Europe, I had a new job contract, I had just started a new relationship and I was progressing well spiritually. To be honest, I felt like I was on top of the world and pretty invincible. Then I was diagnosed with cancer - and just like that everything changed - its funny how life can change on a dime. All of my plans - my dreams, my expectations, my planned holidays, my work project - it was like a mirage that disappeared like a puff of smoke. Living with uncertainty is a lesson which we as cancer patients have to learn very quickly . We can fool ourselves into thinking we have certainty in life, and my "Aha" moment was that I never had certainty anyway - cancer patient or not cancer patient - all of us. It was an illusion. During my treatment, one day I would get "good news" and I would project forward and think that life was good, but then the next day, I would get some "bad news" and I would catastrophise. It was this rollercoaster of feeling up and down and that wasn't helpful. It taught me to hold everything lightly - both good and bad news, because everything can and will change. Certainty is like a Covid test, it's only relevant for the moment you took it. All bets are off after that, and you start again - each moment by moment.
Viryamuni, Sydney Australia
I was travelling with a friend in a foreign country. One day before we left, I noticed that she was taking out cash. I laughed at her and said that she was so old-fashioned because nobody uses cash anymore - we use credit or debit cards or our mobile phones to pay for our meals and shopping. On further questioning, she said she carried cash in case she came across a homeless person or someone in need. I thought about the many times I have come across homeless people or people in need and I have never been able to offer anything other than a smile and an apology for not having any cash. Then it occurred to me that I couldn't be generous if I didn't have any cash on hand! Generosity shouldn't be an AFTER thought, it should be a BEFORE thought!
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