We decided to publish a short talk today for our FBA Dharmabyte: and#8220;Diversity in the Triratna Buddhist Order,and#8221; by Saddhanandi given in 2003.
Saddhanandi, and#8216;She who delights in Faithand#8217;, is the Chair of Taraloka Retreat Centre for Women. Here she talks about her own life, past and present, as a process of uncovering the true art of living.
This talk is part of the series and#8220;Diversity in the Western Buddhist Orderand#8221;.
[music] Dharma Bites is brought to you by Free Buddhist Audio, the Dharma for your life. Our work is funded entirely by donations from our generous listeners. If you would like to help us keep this free, make a contribution at freebuddhistaudio.com/donate. Thank you, and happy listening. Very much of this, Chavandhu. Our first and final speaker is She Who Delights in Faith, and who resides in the realm of Tara, Sadhana Mandy. [applause] I'm going to start with a quote from Banti that I stumbled upon a couple of weeks ago. "It isn't easy to discover one's own needs in a deeper sense. It takes some time to discover the thing, in the sense of that particular thing, which is most useful, and which most fully engages all your energies and all your talents, and it isn't easy to discover that. The F.W.B.O. may not have expanded sufficiently to accommodate some people's talents. You don't lead a spiritual life in the abstract. It takes a particular concrete form, and it isn't easy to discover what that best concrete form that that can take for you. It isn't easy to know oneself. It isn't easy to know one's own needs." When I was at our school about 20 years ago, during my first few weeks of my degree course, a couple of tutors walked around the studio. There had been very complimentary and encouraging. And then one of the guys came back to me and he said, "I didn't mean to say that your drawing was good. I meant to say anyone who can draw like that should be drawing a dance like better." I changed my drawing. A year or so later, in another exhibition, with all my colleagues around me and my tutors in front of my work, my tutor said, "There's not enough work here." "But there's loads of work here," I said. "There's not enough work here." And I said, "Compared to everybody else, I've got loads of work. Yes, but for you, it is not enough." It seemed a bit unfair. I knew I was creative. I knew I was even talented. I knew I had a lot to give and I wanted to give it. I wanted more than anything else to give it. I just didn't know how to do it. I didn't know what to do. I think I thought maybe a relationship. I was looking for something bigger than me and I thought maybe a relationship would do it. They're not just lovers. They're a bit narrow, aren't they? They're demanding, but they're kind of specific. Friendship. I tried friendship as well, but it's very much a very subjective world sometimes. I was looking for a relationship. And what I realised was it was a relationship with a particular context that I was looking for. I was looking for something that was going to make the demands on me that those tutors made on me. I was looking for a particular concrete form that would demand everything I had and still ask for more. That would stretch me and draw me out in a way that I didn't expect and which I hadn't anticipated. I believe passionately in external conditions and the relationship between ourselves and our internal world and those external conditions. That relationship is magical, dynamic and creative. When Tara Loca first asked me to join them, I said no. I hadn't thought of moving to Tara Loca, but I asked them, well I said well ask me again, which of course they did, three months later, and I said yes. And within a few months of being there, still as a mitterer, I thought, well if I'm not careful, I'll end up being cheer woman here. I'm not saying that Tara Loca is the best condition for everyone. It works for me and it only works for the moment. But I've got a lot of gratitude for that. It doesn't mean that I find Tara Loca easy, I do not. I've been getting a lot of headaches recently. It doesn't even mean that I find life at Tara Loca pleasant. I don't think I could say that. But I don't hank her after somewhere else. As Bunty says, I found a particular concrete form in which to practice my spiritual life. And that is probably the strongest relationship I have in my life. That relationship that I have with that particular context. It satisfies the creativity within me. It's interesting that I've ended up living at a retreat centre, which surely is all about just setting up conditions for people. But I'm trying to do that backstage as well, as I say. Not just on retreats, but backstage in the community. I'm continually trying to match external conditions with a person involved. I want everybody to have that dynamic, creative relationship with their conditions. But creativity isn't the only force in my life. I've got another one. I'm nihilistic. This mainly voices itself in doubt. Is the F-dobia occult? Am I just a low-paid admin worker? Does enlightenment exist? Does anything in my life really add up to anything? Or is it just a delusion that I'm going to wake up from any minute now? A few years ago, my grandmother died. And I lay on my bed and thought about death. I thought about it a bit. And in that moment, I caught a glimpse of something. Maybe I even caught a glimpse of a vision. I was in a dark room, completely dark. There were no windows, and there was no door. And I thought to myself, "Stanceira is endless, and there's no way out." I wondered about that vision. I wondered about that room. Was it death? Was it sadness? Was it grief? After a few days, I realized what it was. It was life without faith. When I don't have any faith, there is no way out. There's no doors in that dark room. There are no windows, and Samsara is endless. All I'm trying to do is keep the door open for myself and for others. And I see those dark rooms everywhere, and I feel it in myself at the back of me all the time. My creativity is pitched against that dark room. I was on retreat a couple of years ago, leading a newcomer's weekend. And on that weekend, there was a woman who is from Manchester. She's blind and deaf. Although if you sit close enough to her, she can hear something. She can hear what you're saying through her hearing aids. I was thinking about this woman while I was eating my spaghetti over supper one day on that retreat. That voice was there again. Does the Dharma have anything to offer her? Does this Sangha have anything to offer her? What do we have to offer this woman? And then I realized how difficult it was to eat spaghetti. And I realized it must be very hard for somebody who is blind to eat spaghetti. So I left my place, and I went over to her. Helen, shall I cut up your spaghetti? Yes, please. I thought, why am I worried about these big questions that cannot be answered? What really matters to me is that I'm aware enough of what really needs to be done. And I'm big enough in myself to do it. I live between these two flames. The dark flame of nihilism and doubt. And the bright light flame of creativity. Tariloka is simply the furnace that draws out those flames. I'm just raw material. The process is alchemical. So what is the furnace? Well, just a curve and you're misunderstanding. To live at Tariloka is not to live on retreat. It is to live in the middle of a small, right livelihood business. If you can imagine that. There's nothing romantic or glamorous or even spiritual about living in a retreat centre. At Tariloka this year, we're running 46 events. When there's a retreat on, the business is open. That's 24 hours a day, 46 events this year. But really what that furnace is, what's burning me if you like, or containing my flames, is that you're living and working with the same people miles from anywhere. Within that context, within those conditions, our personalities and habits can have a huge impact on ourselves and on others. Our experience of ourselves is completely undiluted and we don't like it. It's a stretch and it isn't easy to live with. I was thinking recently about doing a three-year solitary. But I went through the list of things I could do, you know, get more deeply in contact myself. I sought out a few deepest samskaras, take my awareness to myself much further. But then I thought that sudden Andy, you're doing all that work already. And I thought three years would be easy. I'm doing a 15-year stretch here. As a chairwoman, I have to keep an overview. I have to keep an overview of Tareloka as a spiritual furnace. As an F.W.B.O. institution and as a business with all its financial concerns, the situation is very demanding. As I said recently, I've had a lot of headaches. It demands that I'm creative and that I'm individual and that my relationship to this particular context is stronger than to my lover and to my friends. I'm on a walk with very Davey, my Calliano Mitra. I'm talking a bit about my life. You think you're normal, don't you? I suppose I do. Someone asked me where I live and I pause a bit before I say "shrops you" or "is it whales" or just Tareloka. But really, I live in a landscape of communication and work. It's got nothing to do with geography. Yes, I've got a room at Tareloka, but that's simply where I'm functioning at present. My real home is made up of this Buddhist order. It's of the F.W.B.O. and this movement and the life within it. Yes, I live between those two flames, the dark flame of nihilism, the light frame, flame of creativity and this anger is that furnace that draws out those flames. I'm simply raw material and the process is alchemical. After 19 years, I know how much I've benefited from my contact with the Dharma through this Buddhist movement. I am a product of that contact and it is where I live. I'll finish with a short piece of writing that I did at all for the door workshop about three years ago. It was during the time when I was trying to make up my mind about becoming the chairwoman at Tareloka. It provides, if you like, the cornerstone of my decision to do that job. It's called home. I close the curtains in my room. They belong to somebody else. The sister of the room, the sister of the woman I share that room with. Neither of us liked them and in that moment I realized it didn't matter. As those curtains were shut, I realized it mattered less to me how beautiful my room was. Something was compromised, yes, but not me. In that moment, as if through an open window, a cold wind blew through me. A wild wind in my mind that blew the dust around before it resettled. Although now, that dust would not settle in quite the same way. My life is more homeless. It matters less to me that I'm not dug in. I don't want to nestle. I want to work. I don't want to settle. I want to move on. There are landscapes in Scotland where that cold wind rooms and sometimes they're gone solitary there. And sometimes I fall in love and it's the cold wind in them that touches me. I walk downstairs. Rat Shuri inside me there's a cold wind blowing. She reaches for her poetry book and finds it. Not I, not I, but the wind that blows through me, DH Lance. May I live forever homeless and be entirely borrowed by that wind. Thank you. We hope you enjoyed today's Dharma Bite. Please help us keep this screen. Make a contribution at freebuddhistaudio.com/donny. And thank you. [Music] [Music] [Music] [BLANK_AUDIO]
