EDITORIAL
House Builder

After two months of retreat time, enjoying the luxury of not having to speak to each other or to attend to any other than the most essential duties, there arises a sense of ease, of inner quietude. Under normal retreat circumstances this is a cause for pleasure -- delight even. However, confronted with the task of writing the newsletter editorial, I notice instead a sense of mild anxiety, tinged with curiosity: there doesn't seem to be anything there... I wonder if anything will arise and, if anything does, I'm interested to see what that will be.

Bringing things together -- raw materials (pencil, paper); a specific occasion; ideas, concepts, teachings; and whatever understanding and volition may have arisen as fruits of practice -- seems a good place to begin. The first is here. The second? Well, it's that sort of time (anyone who has edited things will know what that means); the fourth, such as it is, is here -- which leaves the third.

Looking at Ajahn Munindo's piece about the Sanghamitta project, I am reminded of early days of the monastic community at Harnham, when the extremely dilapidated structure down the lane, with its crumbling stone walls, 'roof' and sagging wooden door frame, would affectionately be referred to as 'the nuns' vihara.' Then, when it became apparent that there was unlikely to be a nuns' community living there, it went back to being, simply, 'Number 5 -- Farmer Wake's birth place.' Now, some fifteen years on, it's 'The New Retreat House' and a process of physical transformation has begun. Hopefully, in due course there will be the completion of this bringing together of physical elements, and something that is clearly recognisable and usable as 'the new retreat centre' will be in place. It will no longer be solely an effort of will and imagination that maintains the concept or vision -- it will be there for all to see and make use of: a place of practice.

I find it interesting that the simile used by the Buddha for craving is of a house builder -- one who assembles elements to create what is commonly known as 'a house.' He described his enlightenment as seeing the house builder and dismantling his creation: 'The rafters are broken; the ridge pole is shattered!' This is a powerful image for the penetration of that activity of consciousness, which is continuously bringing together the elements of mind (nama) and body (rupa) to give meaning or significance to something that, ultimately, simply isn't there. The Self or Person's existence, and its relationship with the physical form and all that surrounds it, is brought into existence and sustained solely through craving, based on a misunderstanding!

When we clearly see what the Buddha saw in his awakening, our suffering can end -- apart, that is, from the natural discomfort experienced in the body as it registers physical hunger, the extremes of heat and cold, disease, its wearing down with age. It's actually very simple, but the power of craving and ignorance or Mara -- the skill and strength of the 'house builder' in holding the illusion of Self together -- is such that we need all the help we can get (and, even then, it can take a long time). We have different characters and different needs at different times, so we are fortunate that the Buddha presented many different strategies that can help us arrive at this understanding that frees the heart. Sometimes it's phrases like 'Let go of everything' or, 'plunging into the Deathless' that can arouse faith, enabling us to make a shift away from our ego-centred view of things. Sometimes a more analytic approach as demonstrated in Ajahn Sucitto's talk, 'Touching Meaning,' is what is needed. This might be a questioning -- or challenging -- of our assumptions step by step; or a systematic listing of factors that sustain a particular awareness. When these mirror our everyday experience (which can of course be somewhat humbling), this is particularly efficacious. We realise that, 'Yes, it's a Teaching that is there for all of us; even 'Me' with my confusion, and occasionally less than completely pure, unselfish motivations. What a relief! I can begin where I am: 'No, they don't hate dahl!' and feelings coursing through the system at that moment... 'What's happening here?... What perceptions am I holding on to?... What am I adding to this event?...'

Practice. It takes time and repetition of the same basic lessons over and over and over again, until eventually we get it -- until our house eventually collapses and there is no longer the slightest interest in reassembling the elements comprising it. Throughout our training, and even after the task is done, the encouragement is always to develop and use skilful dhammas -- generosity, goodness, wise reflection and collectedness -- and to shun what is unskilful, that which embellishes, either negatively or positively, the sense of Self, or which harms others. Whether living alone as a hermit, or in the midst of society, it's a progressive opening and extending beyond the limitations of 'Me' and 'Mine'-- not to obliterate anything, but in order that we may experience the bliss of realising what we seem to be as simply included in 'All that is.'

Ajahn Candasiri