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Akshobhya Buddha Sand Mandala: Jangchub Choeling Nuns Bring Peace and Wisdom to Bloomington July 30, 2024 18:39
If you prefer to listen to this month's offering, click HERE for the audio link.
Recently, a group of nuns from the Jangchub Choeling Nunnery in India visited TMBCC in Bloomington. This is their first tour to the U.S. They are raising funds for their nunnery as well as sharing aspects of Tibetan Buddhist culture along the way. They spent five days creating an elaborate Akshobhya Buddha sand mandala in the Kalachakra Hall. Akshobhya, which means unshakeable, is a Buddha whose blessings are associated with wisdom and understanding the true nature of reality.
The nuns started with an opening ceremony and blessing. Then, they carefully created the template for the design using compasses, rulers, and chalk-coated lines of twine.
Over the course of the next few days, they worked quietly, and they worked together, often in silence, each with a demeanor of focused, clear, and steady concentration. They were deliberate, they were mindful, they were measured, they were precise, and, most importantly, they were peaceful.
Prior to their visit, these nuns had trained in India for a full year to learn the skills necessary to create this beautiful sand mandala. This collective effort is a meditation practice in and of itself, and it requires unwavering concentration, focus, and precision.
They created this mandala with superfine, vibrantly colored sand, and they used tapered, tube-like funnels made of copper, called chak-purs, to apply the sand onto the template. They scratched thin metal rods against the ridged sides of these tubes, which created a vibration. This allowed the nuns to control the flow of the sand in a steady and controlled manner. It’s fascinating to watch, and even more soothing to hear. The sounds of the chak-purs remind me of cicadas singing their spiraling summer songs.
We had the opportunity to witness and share a beautiful practice of interconnection and interdependence, not only for the nuns who were creating this design, but for all the visitors who were able to observe the process as well.
Their practice is not performative, and it’s not meant to showcase or show off their artistic talents. There’s no place for ego in this meditative practice. Their intentions are clear, and their motivations are pure.
Day by day, layer by layer, the mandala took shape. Each symbol and color in the design has meaning. The nuns have studied the significance of every aspect of this design, and while creating it, they contemplate and meditate on the meaning throughout the process.
During their stay, I was able to visit the center a few times. One of those times was on a Sunday morning before the weekly Dharma teaching. I made a point to arrive early so I could walk to the Kalachakra Hall and observe them working. It was quiet, and there weren’t many visitors there at the time. The nuns were working steadily, and the cicada-like sounds of their chak-purs echoed softly throughout the building.
They had made significant progress since my last visit a few days before. Layers of bold, vibrant colors had covered most of the board. While they worked, I had time to sit and recite a few rounds of refuge ngondro mantras with my mala: “Nama Sanghaya, Nama Sanghaya, Nama Sanghaya, Nama Sanghaya…”
A mandala is a representation of everything in the universe. As the nuns carefully created their design, they also focused, contemplated, and offered blessings to everything in the universe as well.
Typically, after the mandala is complete, and after the closing ceremony, they scoop the sand into an urn and pour it into a body of water, sending with it all the blessings and messages of peace and compassion into the currents. Dissolving the mandala at the end is a reminder that nothing is permanent—even after all the dedication, study, time, and effort—nothing lasts forever—and clinging to anything is never helpful or fruitful.
Watching the creation of the mandala was a reminder that our intentions matter, that our efforts matter, and that collaborating with others is essential if we want to grow and cultivate peace.
Watching the dissolution of the sand mandala is an exercise in letting go—and allowing. It also underscores the importance of enjoying the creative process, and not clinging to the outcome.
The Jangchub Choeling nuns stayed at TMBCC for ten days. Then, they traveled to their next destination to begin the process again and create another mandala in another city. They will be touring the U.S. until early spring of 2025, and they will continue to spread peace, compassion, and beauty with every colorful grain of sand.
If they come to your town, please take some time to observe this practice for yourself and to support their efforts. You won’t regret it.
Below is the link to their website if you’re interested in sponsoring a nun or donating to their nunnery.
https://www.jangchubchoeling.org/
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When I taught English full-time, I was a big fan of the Transcendentalists. I enjoyed teaching the works of Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau.
One of my favorite Thoreau quotes from Walden was, “I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.”
Watching the nuns create this beautiful Akshobhya Buddha sand mandala made me realize that I didn’t need to run away into the woods to cultivate peace, and that living deliberately requires mindfulness, compassion, and sharp focus.
Thoreau lived at Walden Pond for two years, two months, and two days. His retreat was an experiment that led to the creation of a wonderful piece of literature—one that was created in solitude but was shared with the rest of the world.
Everything we have and do depends upon the skills and expertise of others, and we are foolish to think that anything we do is completely independent and isolated from others.
A meaningful life begins with a clear motivation—the intention to make the most of our precious human life—and moment by moment, day by day, we build our lives with all the textures and colors of our choosing—and share the lives we create with others before our own inevitable dissolution.
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Thank you for taking the time to listen or read this month’s blog offering. I hope the month of July has treated you well, and I hope August has even more blessings waiting for you. Please visit the Middle Moon Malas online collection. Each of these hand-knotted malas is a one-of-a-kind creation designed to inspire and support meaningful practice.
Jr. High Orchestra Saved My Life...and Inspired Me to Practice December 4, 2019 17:42
I happened to catch a film that I had seen bits and pieces of years ago. Hilary and Jackie focused on the relationship between Jacqueline Du Pré, who was an extremely talented and famous cellist, and her sister Hilary, who played the flute for a time.
Both were sisters, both were involved with music, and both supported each other in times of need.
Jackie was a prodigy and became a professional musician at a very young age. Unfortunately, her music career lasted only a short ten years before she was diagnosed with MS. She battled this devastating illness for 14 years before she died at the age of 42.
It was painful and heart-wrenching to watch her transform from a musical genius to a helpless invalid on film--but just as tender and heart-warming to see her sister nurture and support her.
Recently, I had an opportunity to present meditation and wellness practices to groups of educators at a local high school as part of their township's Professional Development Day. I was assigned to lead sessions in a 9th grade orchestra classroom. The acoustics were great, and the tiered levels of seats in a horseshoe pattern were ideal for these sessions.
While I was setting up for the first meeting, I noticed a chair and a framed photo mounted on the far wall of the room. When I walked over to check it out, I discovered that it was a tribute to a student who had passed away the previous year. Her name was Alex. She was smiling in the photo, caught in a slanting ray of sunlight. The chair had been hers in class, and her classmates had written warm, tender messages on the seat and backrest in silver Sharpie. This tribute was beautiful, moving...and devastating.
This was the third consecutive year that I had been invited to present stress-reducing breathing techniques, meditation, and movement strategies to overworked, exhausted educators. This was also the third year that I'd presented in this 9th grade orchestra room, which I appreciated. This room is calming, open, warm, and safe--it's also far away from the other sessions that take place at the nearby high school.
Being in this room reminded me of orchestra class at Stonybrook Jr. High. These were definitely not the Wonder Years for me growing up--far from it. At that time I was living in a tumultuous home environment. I was teased and bullied virtually every day at the bus stop, on the bus, and in the halls at school. The only place where I felt safe at this time in my life was in orchestra class. No one made fun of me there. I liked the teacher, and I liked playing the violin. Playing music with other students made me feel like I mattered...that I had something to contribute...that I was valued and appreciated. I belonged. Orchestra for me was an oasis from daily battles and struggles. I was safe there and part of a community.
Being able to offer simple, practical techniques to help teachers nurture and take care of themselves in this setting has been a pleasure for me. I look forward to these annual sessions, and I appreciate being invited back. It made me feel good to know that these sessions fill up, and fill up quickly. This year, we started with a breath practice similar to nadi shodhana, progressed to a somatic relaxation practice for the eyes. We did a little sounding--chanting the vowels--to stimulate the parasympathetic nervous system, a Feldenkrais-inspired shoulder exercise, followed by a body scan and a loving-kindness meditation.
Thankfully, I no longer live in a tumultuous home environment. I am no longer harassed and bullied on the daily at school now. I have found safety in my own personal meditation, japa, and movement practices, and I look forward to visiting this orchestra classroom every year. It's a safe place where teachers gather--it's an oasis from the demands of teaching, even for just a day. It's a place of connection and interconnection, shared joys, hard work, and sometimes sorrow. It's a place of support...where people uplift and hold space for each other...it's a place to practice...and a place to grow.
Interested in growing in your own meditation practice? Check out the one-of-a-kind, hand-knotted malas in the Middle Moon Malas online collection (middlemoonmalas.com).
Hitting the Reset Button: Retreat and Recharge April 3, 2017 13:46
The only thing that matters is this breath. The only thing that matters is slicing this apple. The only thing that matters is this step. The only thing that matters is this blue heron taking flight over a pond.
I recently spent three days in a secluded cabin at the Tibetan Mongolian Buddhist Cultural Center in Bloomington, Indiana, for a personal retreat. I needed a little time to unplug (literally and metaphorically) from the world and to reconnect with myself and my practice.
I stayed in a circular, yurt-inspired cabin. It had a small kitchen, a domed skylight , walls painted a soothing sea foam green, plenty of floor space for yoga practice, and a deck with a view of the woods.
During my stay, I made serenity a priority. I practiced yoga every morning before breakfast and every evening before going to bed. I wandered in the woods and grounds of the Center in between stints of light rain showers. I circumambulated the Kalachakra Stupa while chanting. I ate meals mindfully. I meditated on the deck. I strung beads on a mala. I chatted briefly with gray squirrels, attendants at the nearby gift shop (The Happy Yak), Geshe Kunga on his way to the temple, and an aging, but friendly pug named Norbu.
For three days, I paid close attention to sounds that I’m not accustomed to hearing—wind chimes, fluttering prayer flags, rain on the roof, squirrels skittering on the deck. I took time to enjoy food—to savor every bite—sliced oranges in a bowl, raspberry cheesecake, toast with Marionberry jam, Greek yogurt with spiced butternut squash and apricots. I watched the sunrise between the trees and the stars from the skylight.
No obligations or interruptions, no striving or planning, this retreat was all about allowing and being. My headaches (and hot flashes) subsided; my stress levels decreased dramatically. By releasing the usual day-to-day distractions, it allowed me to connect more deeply to myself and the environment.
I look forward to visiting TMBCC again for future retreats. In the meantime, I can choose to find stillness and serenity in this moment, regardless of where I am. I can choose to make my meditation/chanting practice a priority every day, beginning each day with recitations,instead of postponing it to the end of the day when I am mentally and physically fatigued. I can choose to unplug from the frenetic busyness of my day-to-day life for just a few minutes in order to reboot and recharge energetically.
The only thing that matters is this breath. The only thing that matters is this traffic light. The only thing that matters is this student who will deliver her speech in an hour. The only thing that matters is this sip of lukewarm chai tea.
Trigger Warning: How a Mantra Practice Can Help Manage Unsettling Emotions March 6, 2017 13:48
Triggers—we all have them. They can be situations, memories, specific sounds or smells, words and phrases, animals, or even certain individuals that can push us into a vortex of unpleasant emotions or mindsets. It’s easy, too easy, sometimes, to get caught up in this dizzying, unsettling flurry, and it can have a lasting impact, if we allow it.
Last week, I was chatting in the hall with colleagues after school. I like to laugh—a lot—unfortunately, I have a bold, loud laugh that can sometimes be misconstrued. At some point in our conversation, I let one of these bold laughs fly, and it triggered one of my colleagues. She had assumed that I was laughing at her, and that I was judging her, which was not my intention at all.
Even though I had apologized and explained to her that I was not criticizing or berating her in any way, I could tell that this did not completely pacify her. It still stung. She was triggered by my laughter—and I was triggered by her response. I felt awful about causing someone else pain, even though it was unintentional. Later on in the evening, it had an impact on my personal yoga practice. I couldn’t get that moment out of my head. I had trouble focusing, I didn’t enjoy my practice, and I started to second guess and berate myself as a result. What was the root of all of this turmoil?
Meditation can be an effective follow-up for my at-home yoga sessions, and it was perfect for managing the ripple effects of this particular situation. By incorporating the following steps, I was able to halt the negative self-talk, to recognize patterns, to answer lingering questions, and to offer compassion as an antidote.
Find a quiet place where you won’t be interrupted and sit so that you can be both relaxed and alert.
*Observe : Identify and name whatever reactions or emotions are associated with the situation. Where do you feel this reaction in the body? Are you holding tension anywhere? Notice what’s happening with the breath. Is your breathing ragged or smooth? Shallow or deep? Simply take time to identify, notice, and name what’s happening in the breath and body.
*Pause: Without judgment, and without taking these reactions personally, simply take some time to sit and acknowledge these reactions and feelings. They may be familiar to you—you may have felt this way before—and you may acknowledge patterns emerging. Whatever feelings or reactions that surface for you, be with them…without pushing them away….or looking for a distraction. Simply be still. Hold space for whatever you’re noticing.
*Reflect: Ask for guidance—what is this person, situation, etc. teaching me? What do I need to learn from this? What’s the message? Trust the information that you receive—and be patient—sometimes you won’t receive an immediate answer. This is usually the place where I begin a mantra recitation practice with a mala (japa practice). It’s kind of like waiting on hold and listening to music on the other end of the line—only the music doesn’t have to be annoying. Choose a mantra and a mala that resonate with you, and use this recitation practice to help you find clarity, direction, and calm. Again—without forcing an answer—without trying to manipulate or control your meditation session…simply allow…one bead, one recitation at a time.
*Release: Whether you choose to recite one round (108 repetitions) or multiple rounds with your mala and mantra, at the end of your recitation practice, offer yourself, the situation, and any other individuals involved compassion. Give yourself permission to release any fears, anger, frustrations, etc. that this situation may have stirred up for you. This part of the process allows for a sense of closure (at least for the time being), and it prevents this situation from hijacking the rest of your day.
Triggers in and of themselves can seem very small and insignificant, but they can explode into major disruptions if they aren’t dealt with or managed effectively. Using a mantra practice can help you notice patterns about yourself and be more mindful as you interact with others.
I still laugh—boldly, loudly—and although I may not be able to control how other people respond to my laughter, the more honest, clear, and compassionate that I can be in relating with others, the more we can laugh together.