It is 8.30am on Saturday morning, the morning after the last night of door knocking on the appeal. Last night was magical in so many ways.
We hit the streets for our last night of fundraising believing that anything was possible. In one final night of fundraising the team made £205 in standing orders, that's £12,300 for Karuna in one evening. Put in real terms, that's fourteen - 14 - kids that are going to get places in hostels from the age of 11 to 18. They will be off the street, receiving love, care and attention, an education, and a way out of poverty. They will have every chance to have choices in life, build a home and a family, look after their loved ones, and stand tall, proud and confident. Despair will be replaced by faith for many of them, and they will make it through hopefully, to adulthood, and be able to contribute what they learn to their communities, families and beyond. They will have beaten the caste system in their minds, and that's half the battle. They will grow up knowing they are good enough to take their place in the world, that they belong, and this sense I hope for them will make all the difference. They will know that they belong, they can contribute, and they will have the sense that they are enough.
Before going out on the streets I feel intensely nervous all of a sudden. I think it is because everything is coming to an end. I still have a big target for the evening to make £57 in standing orders. I contact the part of me that wants to really enjoy this evening no matter what happens. I walk the streets feeling nervous, and it is showing on the doors. I feel a bit awkward when people I call back to say they've not read the booklet yet, and can I come back and I have to say no, that it's my last night, and ask them whether they've got time to go through it now, or at some point this evening, and I'll come back. Or I give them the forms if they seem genuinely interested, and an envelope and let it go, or I take the book back. It is hard to sit with the feeling that it is my last night, and somehow I'm having to talk about the end of my volunteering to these householders. It does not come easy.
After about half an hour, I realise I'm feeling full of doubt. I stand by a red letterbox and contact my feelings of doubt, really be with them. I close my eyes, take a step forward and step into love and giving myself a hug, and letting myself know it will be ok. I stand still and try to be with this. I take another step, into possibilities, and I contact the sense that it is possible for anything to happen this evening. I stand still and try to be with this. I take a step forward and contact myself and my connection with the universe and all it's magic. All of a sudden the universe turns the colour of yellow, the colour of abundance, and yellow forms are starting to flow around me. I smile, and move past the red letterbox. There is now a spring in my step, and I've dropped my feelings of doubt and insecurity in the letterbox, and posted them somewhere else.
The next house I knock on gives me a £6 donation...it's a start I think. When money is coming towards you, any money, it's been my experience that it's a good thing and bodes well. The next householder, Anthony, invites me in and we have a long chat, mainly about Buddhism, and about his job, he is a museum media consultant. He gives us a £100 donation. I try my best to make it into a regular standing order, but he's clear around his reasons for not doing anything regular, and I feel I was really able to explore it with him and then let it go. He also says that he never gives to religious charities, so I've had to help him with getting a good sense of what we do and answer any questions he's got about it. We part and he says he's going to look into Buddhism some more because he's really interested and loves our approach. I think to myself, that's quite a turn around.
A few doors later I meet a woman who is putting a small girl to bed. She is struggling on the doorstep to talk to me and meet the needs of her young daughter. I've never met this woman before face to face, my only interaction with her was behind the closed door, when she was busy, but from her voice I decided to ask her if I should post something through her letterbox, she said yes, and something in her voice told me that she was genuine about wanting to engage. When I called back the other night I talked to her babysitter. Tonight I make an appointment to go back at 9pm, when the little one will be in bed. I still have no real idea if she will sign up, but she's told me she's really interested, so I think it bodes well.
Later that evening, I contact despair on the streets again, I've not made any money and I let go again into this sense that it is Boddhisattva work, selfless work, and that there is nothing out here for my ego to grab a hold of. I feel genuinely happy to be doing this work for Karuna, and just keeping on going.
At 9pm I call back to the woman's house. It's her husband who comes to the door. He invites me in and looks friendly. Sabine and Ralf's house is colourful and full of children's toys. They clear away the seatee for me to sit on, and I sit down. They tell me they'd like to support us, which I say is great, but they say, the only thing for them is that they don't support religious charities. We chat about Buddhism and how I see it and they've clearly read the booklet thoroughly because they know that we only do Buddhist work with people that are already Buddhist. To try to "convert" people to Buddhism against their wishes (or "convert" them at all) is against Buddhist ethics for me. We explore a bit about Buddhism and that it's about people freeing themselves from the prison of self (I don't put it that way, but we talk in a way that we can all connect). Sabine asks me about the bracelet that I have on, it's made up of plastic skulls. I talk to her about impermance, and how it reminds me that everything changes, everything comes and goes, and that there is only really the present moment in our lives, and it's what we do with the present moment that really matters.
Sabine says she's quite interested in exploring meditation. Once they are satisfied that they can specify all their money will go to our social projects that are open to people regardless of religion, they sign up. Ralf fills in the form, they have decided to give £50 per month. I am bowled over, and let it in, and they start to ask me questions about my volunteering and how I feel on my last night. They bring me a big glass of fresh orange juice and we chat for a while about my experiences, and about where there money will be going and how I hope that they will have a good experience of giving to Karuna and get a lot out of it. They are a lovely couple, and their standing order totally amazes me, it's the most I've ever signed anyone up for, and I can't quite believe it's my last call back of the evening. I tell them that they have made my night, and that the team will be so happy when I return with the form.
As I leave, the full moon glows in the sky, and the Universe is absolutely full of magic in the dark night as I unlock my bike. Ten minutes later I realise that I've left my jumper in Sabine and Ralf's house and I go back to get it. They seem very pleased to see me again, and are grinning and feeling good.
As I cycle home I get off my bike on the road and pull over onto the pavement and double check the form for third time this evening. I want to double check the dates are all fine and the amount and the signatures, because a part of me cannot believe that they have just given this much money to us. It's all there, and everything is fine. I cycle home, my eyes sparkling with delight.
The final team totals read £1022 in standing orders, that's over £60,000 for Karuna. We are so chuffed. Abhilasa and Naomi both made over their individual targets of £270. Paddy is a while off his target but has just texted twenty of his friends to ask them for help. He says that he feels a bit ashamed about this, but I feel so proud of him. I've not had the guts to ask my friends for help on this appeal. I let him know that I'm so proud of him and that what he's done is fantastic, and that he's reaching out. There is part of me that knows that Paddy will not be satisfied until he's made more and more money for Karuna, and that targets mean nothing to Paddy, it's all about the work, and he'll be back making more money for Karuna in the future, and blasting through any target anyone dares to set him.
I made £260 and have decided that falling short of my individual target by £10 is by far made right by receiving £50 from my last call back and the elation of seeing the smiles on Sabine and Ralf's faces. I will just have to "let it go" and a part of me believes that one of my other householders that I've left a form with might send one into the office. You have to believe that the universe has this master plan for you, and that it's not quite been revealed to me at the moment, and all I can do in the present moment is let go and connect positively to all that has happened.
At 11.30pm we are dressed up and ready to go out. We hit our local bar, the Oak bar, Hackney's finest lesbian establishment. A part of me feels like I grew up in this bar, many of my friends, and dates, and girlfriends have frequented this place over the years, and it holds a special place in my heart. I've not been in for a couple of years. Tonight it's very quiet and the DJ's are (ironically) playing drum and bass, jungle and techno. This meets none of our team's musical tastes, apart from me, but we all dance into the early hours and have a great time just being together. Music and dance has been a huge part of the appeal experience for us.
When we return we eat gluten free snacks and drink cups of tea, and relax in the knowledge that we have given everything we have and more to these last six weeks, and we enjoy the feeling that tonight we are all heroes.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Friday, July 18, 2008
The matrix and the scoreboard
They have taken to calling me Neo, the chosen one, out of the film, the Matrix. Abhilasa is Morpheus, and Naomi is Trinity. Each night before we go out we talk to each other. Morpheus tells me that I should watch my back for agents out there. Trinity that she will guard me from the Sentinels. I put on my black glasses and my bike helmet and make my way to the garden shed where my bike awaits.
There is something about being Neo that deeply appeals to me. It's the hero's journey, that archetypal story. This appeal I have contacted the hero within at times, and I feel very positive about the whole experience of the past six weeks.
One thing I know about myself is that I love praise, I love affection and attention, I love affirmation. It's not that I don't like fundraising on Karuna appeals, I do actually love the experience. The interactions with the householders, the living in a community, bonding as a team, I love all of this. But at the end of the day, night after night, you do not always receive praise, and affection and affirmation from the householders. There is one thing for sure that you will receive, that is rejection, and people saying no. This is a constant and all that counts is how you work with it.
What I've tried to do more and more on this appeal is to love myself, be kind to myself and to be compassionate. I've found that the more able I am to do this, the more able I am to bring this into the space between the householder and me the more I experience positive mental states, and feel connected to love and compassion. I've also found that I've started to receive many of these gifts back from the householders. When people say no these days it's often said in a softer way, with a few more words attached, like: go well, god bless, it's great work you're doing, I wish you well. These words are beautiful and make it more likely that I will make money at the next door. I see more deeply how interconnected we all are. I do not think twice about speaking to strangers now. I said hi to the street cleaner yesterday, and she looked up at me and beamed this gorgeous smile back at me, she looked so pleased to be taken in. I felt genuinely warmed.
The scoreboard has loomed large for me on this appeal. Today it reads that we have £230 left to fundraise in standing orders tonight. I am in third place at the moment on the scoreboard, having raised £196 in standing orders so far, I desperately want to make it over the £200 mark. I realise I am measuring myself by the standards of my last appeal where I made about £210. It would be nice to go over this I think. But I'll have to let go in order to do that.
Abhilasa has met his target (£270), and Naomi is close to hers. I have to raise £57 in standing orders in order to make my target tonight. Paddy is close behind me, and so it feels that anything could happen in our final night. I think about the scenario where I come in last on the scoreboard, and although it feels painful to think about this, also somewhere I am grateful to Karuna for this opportunity. How many other jobs allow you to hide behind things? With this job, it's all there up front in front of you. You either make money or you don't and then you deal in a creative way with your experiences and emotions around it all. There is no place to hide, not here, not on the streets, not with the householders. It's all about being seen, in all our full human vulnerability, glory, frailness and brilliance. It's full of contradictions, full of ups and downs, such are our lives, they are truly reflected back to us on these appeals.
It is possible, anything is possible out there on the door steps as I have already experienced. But right now, it feels like a stretch, a big ask to make this money tonight. Last night I made £30 in standing orders. One woman signed for £20 a month, and another woman for £10 per month. It was a good evening, not because I signed people up (although that always helps) but because I felt loving and connected towards myself, and the universe felt full of possibility, of abundance, of opening, of love.
At 4pm we chanted several Ratnasambhava mantras and made as much noise as we could with our instruments...our singing bowls and shakers. At the end of my meditation, the room had turned yellow and was full of radiant Ratnasambhava light and yellow standing order forms. The energy in the room was glowing and freely flowing. I took this energy out with me onto the doors. Just trying to stay in the present moment. When people said yes, I let it in, was fully present, and then let it all pass through me, not getting intoxicated by it, moving onto the next "present moment". When people said no, the same thing happened, not attaching to it, I let it go through me and it left me. The evening felt beautiful, and I felt really connected to myself and the householders.
Today it's my intention to try to do the same thing, to feel this spaciousness and connection and love and metta towards myself and my experience. If I focus on the scoreboard some sense of tightness creeps into me, I see myself madly running around my patch trying to get people to sign up, you can't do it, ok, I won't pause, I'll run to the next house. This is what I want to avoid tonight. I don't want to base my experience on my "will" for me, which is to make money. I think about what the Universe's will is for me tonight, what am I supposed to be doing? To meet what arises with kindness and compassion, and openness and spaciousness. All of a sudden typing these words I feel more grounded and serene. Do I want my present moments to be full of angst, tightness and stress, or spacious and serene? I'll take the latter. I know that I'll have a better time out tonight if I try to use all my experience of my spiritual practice in order to just go out there and be of service tonight. I know now that the work we do is heroic, there are no feelings of shame left for me about this work. I know that it is an act of love to go out there, for myself and for others, to just try to genuinely open my door and connect. If I come from that place, I'll be held by the universe.
The team have now raised over £50,000 for Karuna and whatever happens tonight we can be so proud of ourselves. I have raised £11,700 personally for Karuna which I would say is a pretty good six weeks work. If I focus on this, I feel a sense of abundance, and I know that focusing on that will help me with raising the £57 in standing orders that is left for me tonight. On the other hand, I know if I don't get it, I can still be proud of what this amazing team have achieved, and that I've been a part of it.
There is something about being Neo that deeply appeals to me. It's the hero's journey, that archetypal story. This appeal I have contacted the hero within at times, and I feel very positive about the whole experience of the past six weeks.
One thing I know about myself is that I love praise, I love affection and attention, I love affirmation. It's not that I don't like fundraising on Karuna appeals, I do actually love the experience. The interactions with the householders, the living in a community, bonding as a team, I love all of this. But at the end of the day, night after night, you do not always receive praise, and affection and affirmation from the householders. There is one thing for sure that you will receive, that is rejection, and people saying no. This is a constant and all that counts is how you work with it.
What I've tried to do more and more on this appeal is to love myself, be kind to myself and to be compassionate. I've found that the more able I am to do this, the more able I am to bring this into the space between the householder and me the more I experience positive mental states, and feel connected to love and compassion. I've also found that I've started to receive many of these gifts back from the householders. When people say no these days it's often said in a softer way, with a few more words attached, like: go well, god bless, it's great work you're doing, I wish you well. These words are beautiful and make it more likely that I will make money at the next door. I see more deeply how interconnected we all are. I do not think twice about speaking to strangers now. I said hi to the street cleaner yesterday, and she looked up at me and beamed this gorgeous smile back at me, she looked so pleased to be taken in. I felt genuinely warmed.
The scoreboard has loomed large for me on this appeal. Today it reads that we have £230 left to fundraise in standing orders tonight. I am in third place at the moment on the scoreboard, having raised £196 in standing orders so far, I desperately want to make it over the £200 mark. I realise I am measuring myself by the standards of my last appeal where I made about £210. It would be nice to go over this I think. But I'll have to let go in order to do that.
Abhilasa has met his target (£270), and Naomi is close to hers. I have to raise £57 in standing orders in order to make my target tonight. Paddy is close behind me, and so it feels that anything could happen in our final night. I think about the scenario where I come in last on the scoreboard, and although it feels painful to think about this, also somewhere I am grateful to Karuna for this opportunity. How many other jobs allow you to hide behind things? With this job, it's all there up front in front of you. You either make money or you don't and then you deal in a creative way with your experiences and emotions around it all. There is no place to hide, not here, not on the streets, not with the householders. It's all about being seen, in all our full human vulnerability, glory, frailness and brilliance. It's full of contradictions, full of ups and downs, such are our lives, they are truly reflected back to us on these appeals.
It is possible, anything is possible out there on the door steps as I have already experienced. But right now, it feels like a stretch, a big ask to make this money tonight. Last night I made £30 in standing orders. One woman signed for £20 a month, and another woman for £10 per month. It was a good evening, not because I signed people up (although that always helps) but because I felt loving and connected towards myself, and the universe felt full of possibility, of abundance, of opening, of love.
At 4pm we chanted several Ratnasambhava mantras and made as much noise as we could with our instruments...our singing bowls and shakers. At the end of my meditation, the room had turned yellow and was full of radiant Ratnasambhava light and yellow standing order forms. The energy in the room was glowing and freely flowing. I took this energy out with me onto the doors. Just trying to stay in the present moment. When people said yes, I let it in, was fully present, and then let it all pass through me, not getting intoxicated by it, moving onto the next "present moment". When people said no, the same thing happened, not attaching to it, I let it go through me and it left me. The evening felt beautiful, and I felt really connected to myself and the householders.
Today it's my intention to try to do the same thing, to feel this spaciousness and connection and love and metta towards myself and my experience. If I focus on the scoreboard some sense of tightness creeps into me, I see myself madly running around my patch trying to get people to sign up, you can't do it, ok, I won't pause, I'll run to the next house. This is what I want to avoid tonight. I don't want to base my experience on my "will" for me, which is to make money. I think about what the Universe's will is for me tonight, what am I supposed to be doing? To meet what arises with kindness and compassion, and openness and spaciousness. All of a sudden typing these words I feel more grounded and serene. Do I want my present moments to be full of angst, tightness and stress, or spacious and serene? I'll take the latter. I know that I'll have a better time out tonight if I try to use all my experience of my spiritual practice in order to just go out there and be of service tonight. I know now that the work we do is heroic, there are no feelings of shame left for me about this work. I know that it is an act of love to go out there, for myself and for others, to just try to genuinely open my door and connect. If I come from that place, I'll be held by the universe.
The team have now raised over £50,000 for Karuna and whatever happens tonight we can be so proud of ourselves. I have raised £11,700 personally for Karuna which I would say is a pretty good six weeks work. If I focus on this, I feel a sense of abundance, and I know that focusing on that will help me with raising the £57 in standing orders that is left for me tonight. On the other hand, I know if I don't get it, I can still be proud of what this amazing team have achieved, and that I've been a part of it.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
I am powerless over standing orders and my life has become (temporarily) unmanageable...
I wake up at 7.45am. Naomi's alarm is playing it's delightful ring tone. It goes on and on as it has done every morning for the past six weeks, through the snooze functions and beyond. One thing I'm grateful for on this appeal is that her alarm clock plays the most delightful tune, it's like listening to delightful fairy music in the mornings.
I get up, put on my jeans, and wander downstairs. I make one cup of builders tea with soya for Naomi, and one cup of rooboish with vanilla and dairy milk for me. I creep upstairs again, leaving her cup beside her as she emerges from her deep sleep.
At 8am we salute the shrine, chant the Refuges and Precepts, and meditate for 40 minutes. In the mornings I've been doing body scans followed by mindfulness based breath meditation. At 8.5oam I do some reading and reflecting, just clocking that I'm a bit obsessed with raising money these last two days and if I focus on things that I can't really control (like whether people sign up or not) then my head can feel a bit unmanageable. I realise that all I can do is the footwork, and stay present in the present moment, and that the Universe has it's own plan for me. I surrender and think about what my intentions are for the day. To do my footwork, stay present and let go of the outcomes.
At 9am I eat breakfast and begin cooking one of my favourite dishes - Mexican chilli, how my Dad used to make it for us when we were kids. It's my turn to cook and on appeal we cook between 9am and 10.30am and eat our main meal of the day at 1.30pm. It feels like time in the morning is tight but I enjoy the cooking.
I had a good night last night out fundraising. I hadn't made any money on Monday or Tuesday and had sunk into a dreadful mood by the time I was ready to go out on Wednesday evening. Abhilasa tried to cheer me up to no avail, and the only thing that really cheered me up was having a good old moan and whinge to our trainer on the phone, my friend Jo, who has been a rock during this appeal. Always sending loving and supportive thoughts on text or words on the phone, it's great to know that someone is there for you when you are going through a tough time sometimes.
I knock on Clare's door, she says immediately, "Oh, I know your charity!" - she sounds excited, she says "Yes, I gave you some money a few years ago". "Oh, that's great, were you a regular supporter of ours?" I ask. She says, "No, I just gave you a donation". "Oh, great". "Come in", she says, "I really like your charity and it's approach". We sit at the kitchen table, her daughter who is around 10 years old comes to join us. Clare gets out her cheque book. "I'd like to give you another donation". "Great, that's really generous of you, can I ask what it is that you really like about our approach?". We talk for a while. "Can I ask if you would consider giving us £100 each year rather than as just a one off donation?" "Yes, I would" she replies and I get out the standing order form. I chat to her daughter, she's interested in knowing what happens after we've given some medical care and vaccinations to children in a slum in Pune, India. "Do they get ill again later?" she asks. I explain that our projects are more longer term and that hopefully many children will benefit over many years.
I leave Clare's house feeling like there is magic in the Universe afterall. I've not scored all week then I knock on someone's door and reap the fruits of a previous Karuna fundraiser. What a coincidence that I catch Clare in a good mood, remembering Karuna, feeling positive and immediately open to giving. I realise I don't know who the previous fundraiser was, but I thank them in my mind, and realise that there is more to the Universe than meets the eye. I also remember that I may well be warming people up for other fundraisers in the future.
I get to Stuart's house. He's in this evening, yes, he'd like to sign up, but he's looking after his small child. He asks if he can take some paperwork away with him. My desire for standing order success is too large for me to contain, and I realise that if I leave the form with him I'll probably not see it again, and he may well be out the next time I come round. I explain it only takes two minutes to fill in the form and ask if I should come in with him and fill it in for him while he is with his child. He says it's ok, that he'll fill it in, that his partner is in the flat too, so his child will be alright. We stand on the doorstep and he explains that he's really glad I'm coming around doing this work and he's really pleased to be able to contribute to Karuna. I feel all warm.
Several doors later, I realise that there are going to be no more yellow forms for me this evening. Still, I have one last call back I've chosen to make to a woman called Wendy. She has looked keen each time I've been to see her (about 3 times) but has never gotten around to reading the booklet each time. I knock on her door at 9.30pm. She answers and her dog, Bo, goes mental, barking loudly and excitedly as he has each time I've called. He leaps down the stairs past me, and Wendy panics, thinking that he's making a run for the road. I turn and check where he is. The door closes, with Wendy, Bo and me on the outside. Wendy exclaims, "Oh, no" I look at her. "I've locked myself out!" she shrieks. I look at her, her face is warm and friendly still but there is understandably panic in her voice. She is in her pjamas. I ask if there's something I can do. We check the neighbours, they are not in. I ask if I can phone someone for her. She says, yes, great, she'll phone her ex-husband, Steve, he has keys. She borrows my mobile phone. We sit on the step, Bo is roaming around the garden, barking now and again. Wendy tells me that Steve is on a date with a new woman. I ask her how she feels about that, she looks a bit mortified to have to interrupt them. I ask if they get on, her and Steve, she says that they're really good friends. I tell her that's good, so we're not waiting for an irate ex-husband this evening, and we giggle.
Wendy is from Edinburgh and split up with Steve a couple of years ago. She's a stand-up comedian and just written her show for the Edinburgh festival this year. She's doing a show at the Hen and Chickens in Highbury on Friday. I tell her when tonight is done and sorted she'll get some great material from it. She keeps saying to me, anyway, there's plenty of time to tell me about your charity now. I'm reluctant to talk about it, more interested in checking that she's ok. Her kids are inside, they are 2 and 6 years old. She's clearly concerned about them. I offer her my jacket that's in my bag, but it's a warm night and she says she's ok. At the third time of asking, I concede to talking a bit about Karuna, I figure maybe she's asking because she wants to focus on something rather than the situation. We chat, and get to know each other a bit more.
She says to come back and she'll read the booklet and give us some money. When Steve arrives he seems really nice. She's really apologetic, but he seems to see the funny side. I leave them to it and bid them good night.
As I cycle home I think it's good to have a sense of humour about the things that happen. I vow not to take door knocking so seriously, and to ease off in my ambition to keep so solely focused on my target. Santavajri's words of just staying present to what is there in each given moment ring in my ears. Today they hum a gentle giggly tune.
I get up, put on my jeans, and wander downstairs. I make one cup of builders tea with soya for Naomi, and one cup of rooboish with vanilla and dairy milk for me. I creep upstairs again, leaving her cup beside her as she emerges from her deep sleep.
At 8am we salute the shrine, chant the Refuges and Precepts, and meditate for 40 minutes. In the mornings I've been doing body scans followed by mindfulness based breath meditation. At 8.5oam I do some reading and reflecting, just clocking that I'm a bit obsessed with raising money these last two days and if I focus on things that I can't really control (like whether people sign up or not) then my head can feel a bit unmanageable. I realise that all I can do is the footwork, and stay present in the present moment, and that the Universe has it's own plan for me. I surrender and think about what my intentions are for the day. To do my footwork, stay present and let go of the outcomes.
At 9am I eat breakfast and begin cooking one of my favourite dishes - Mexican chilli, how my Dad used to make it for us when we were kids. It's my turn to cook and on appeal we cook between 9am and 10.30am and eat our main meal of the day at 1.30pm. It feels like time in the morning is tight but I enjoy the cooking.
I had a good night last night out fundraising. I hadn't made any money on Monday or Tuesday and had sunk into a dreadful mood by the time I was ready to go out on Wednesday evening. Abhilasa tried to cheer me up to no avail, and the only thing that really cheered me up was having a good old moan and whinge to our trainer on the phone, my friend Jo, who has been a rock during this appeal. Always sending loving and supportive thoughts on text or words on the phone, it's great to know that someone is there for you when you are going through a tough time sometimes.
I knock on Clare's door, she says immediately, "Oh, I know your charity!" - she sounds excited, she says "Yes, I gave you some money a few years ago". "Oh, that's great, were you a regular supporter of ours?" I ask. She says, "No, I just gave you a donation". "Oh, great". "Come in", she says, "I really like your charity and it's approach". We sit at the kitchen table, her daughter who is around 10 years old comes to join us. Clare gets out her cheque book. "I'd like to give you another donation". "Great, that's really generous of you, can I ask what it is that you really like about our approach?". We talk for a while. "Can I ask if you would consider giving us £100 each year rather than as just a one off donation?" "Yes, I would" she replies and I get out the standing order form. I chat to her daughter, she's interested in knowing what happens after we've given some medical care and vaccinations to children in a slum in Pune, India. "Do they get ill again later?" she asks. I explain that our projects are more longer term and that hopefully many children will benefit over many years.
I leave Clare's house feeling like there is magic in the Universe afterall. I've not scored all week then I knock on someone's door and reap the fruits of a previous Karuna fundraiser. What a coincidence that I catch Clare in a good mood, remembering Karuna, feeling positive and immediately open to giving. I realise I don't know who the previous fundraiser was, but I thank them in my mind, and realise that there is more to the Universe than meets the eye. I also remember that I may well be warming people up for other fundraisers in the future.
I get to Stuart's house. He's in this evening, yes, he'd like to sign up, but he's looking after his small child. He asks if he can take some paperwork away with him. My desire for standing order success is too large for me to contain, and I realise that if I leave the form with him I'll probably not see it again, and he may well be out the next time I come round. I explain it only takes two minutes to fill in the form and ask if I should come in with him and fill it in for him while he is with his child. He says it's ok, that he'll fill it in, that his partner is in the flat too, so his child will be alright. We stand on the doorstep and he explains that he's really glad I'm coming around doing this work and he's really pleased to be able to contribute to Karuna. I feel all warm.
Several doors later, I realise that there are going to be no more yellow forms for me this evening. Still, I have one last call back I've chosen to make to a woman called Wendy. She has looked keen each time I've been to see her (about 3 times) but has never gotten around to reading the booklet each time. I knock on her door at 9.30pm. She answers and her dog, Bo, goes mental, barking loudly and excitedly as he has each time I've called. He leaps down the stairs past me, and Wendy panics, thinking that he's making a run for the road. I turn and check where he is. The door closes, with Wendy, Bo and me on the outside. Wendy exclaims, "Oh, no" I look at her. "I've locked myself out!" she shrieks. I look at her, her face is warm and friendly still but there is understandably panic in her voice. She is in her pjamas. I ask if there's something I can do. We check the neighbours, they are not in. I ask if I can phone someone for her. She says, yes, great, she'll phone her ex-husband, Steve, he has keys. She borrows my mobile phone. We sit on the step, Bo is roaming around the garden, barking now and again. Wendy tells me that Steve is on a date with a new woman. I ask her how she feels about that, she looks a bit mortified to have to interrupt them. I ask if they get on, her and Steve, she says that they're really good friends. I tell her that's good, so we're not waiting for an irate ex-husband this evening, and we giggle.
Wendy is from Edinburgh and split up with Steve a couple of years ago. She's a stand-up comedian and just written her show for the Edinburgh festival this year. She's doing a show at the Hen and Chickens in Highbury on Friday. I tell her when tonight is done and sorted she'll get some great material from it. She keeps saying to me, anyway, there's plenty of time to tell me about your charity now. I'm reluctant to talk about it, more interested in checking that she's ok. Her kids are inside, they are 2 and 6 years old. She's clearly concerned about them. I offer her my jacket that's in my bag, but it's a warm night and she says she's ok. At the third time of asking, I concede to talking a bit about Karuna, I figure maybe she's asking because she wants to focus on something rather than the situation. We chat, and get to know each other a bit more.
She says to come back and she'll read the booklet and give us some money. When Steve arrives he seems really nice. She's really apologetic, but he seems to see the funny side. I leave them to it and bid them good night.
As I cycle home I think it's good to have a sense of humour about the things that happen. I vow not to take door knocking so seriously, and to ease off in my ambition to keep so solely focused on my target. Santavajri's words of just staying present to what is there in each given moment ring in my ears. Today they hum a gentle giggly tune.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Opening to love
It is day 2, week 6, all of a sudden I feel, on the one hand, the pressure and urgency of time (I have 4 more nights to go door-knocking, £136 in standing orders still to raise) and, on the other hand, I feel the expansiveness of the Universe, the diamond like quality of ultimate reality, ultimate truth, that is timeless, expansive, beyond.
How is it possible I wonder to hold these two diametrically opposed thoughts? Ah, I realise, they are just thoughts, and then I realise that it is "me" polarising them, and then I let go into something else. I let go into a sense that is difficult to describe, some felt sense of yearning, longing actually, to go beyond all this, all this that makes up our little worlds. A sense of longing for the void, for emptiness, for ultimate transcendence, for Buddhahood, for Enlightenment, for the freeing, cosmic, trascendental spirit of the awakened one. It is all I have ever known or wanted of life somehow, these spiritual questions that stir me into life, into living, into coming alive.
I make myself some decaf coffee. I wonder, how much do I really want to awaken that I choose decaf everytime? That watered down version...but it helps me so much more than the full on caffeine variety...that can give me a quick buzz and then a crash. I've tried life that way, and now I prefer the slow process of awakening, unfolding to what is there, and for now at this stage of my life, I don't want my coffee to speed this process up somehow, I want it to be there alongside me, witnessing, nuturing and encouraging my journey. I slurp coffee. Perversely, it hits me like a train crash that there is only ever this moment to practice in. To manifest our deeply held values. To take a risk. To open up. To be seen. To stand firm. To dance and play. To love and connect. To open. To open to love.
On the doors I feel it everywhere, it's around me and in me and in them and around them, the householders that is.
"Hello"
"Hello"
We smile at each other. Ah, breathe, breathe some more. He is smiling at me, ah, take that in, I'm smiling back, ah, breathe, he's smiling back.
I giggle, he laughs a little. Our eyes grow and sparkle together.
We have said hello. He knows that I'm either trying to sell something or am feeling nervous about asking him for something.
"I'm calling from a charity", the first bit I stumble over slightly, and catch myself. I've said this line hundreds of times over the past 6 weeks, but tonight, in the face of his smile, and his warmth, I stumble, then feel embarrassed. I feel self-conscious, and aware that I feel unable to really meet and be ready to accept his smile and his love and warmth towards me.
His eyes open a little, soften, they glisten in the early evening light, they are dark green, and his face is soft. He looks interested in me, attentive.
"We work in India".
"Ah, in India, that's great, can I have a look at your booklet".
"Of course, here you go".
"Have you been to India yourself?"
"No, but some of my flatmates have".
"Ah, do you live in a houseshare?"
"No, there are three families living here"
"Three families..."
We chat for a few more minutes, his name is Joel, I tell him mine is Jo. His smiles warm me, like the heat from a fire when you've been thoroughly numbed by the cold and your hands yearn for the warmth.
I am caring for myself these days, doing this Karuna appeal has taught me to be more loving and kind and tender towards myself and my needs. When I go to people's doors, it is like I'm able to be really kind to myself. Hello Jo, I say, how are you? How are you feeling today? Ah, sad, that's ok, Ah, tired, that's alright, it's ok to be tired. Ah, alive, mmm, that feels good doesn't it?
Then the householders answer the door and they look and sound kind to me, they often smile, and then relax quite quickly. They don't seem to be in a hurry to get rid of me, and I'm in no hurry to leave. After all, is my evening about these interactions with my fellow human beings or is it about ticking boxes and scribbling on forms, and receiving bank details? I realise instinctively that if it's not about the quality of my connection with myself and with others then Karuna appeals are about nothing at all.
I feel I have learnt to love myself, and in doing so, I've learnt how to open more to love in the universe. It feels as if this love was hiding all along in the universe- and sometimes it wasn't doing a very good job of hiding but I still managed to miss it anyway. The love of a partner, the love of a father, the love of a friend, of a sister, a mother, a brother, a child. In opening to their love I have learnt to give them more love, and I've learnt to think of us all surrounded by love, just dipping in and out of some universal pool. The things that stop me dipping my toe in and spreading this love around me and others are fear, and harshness, and cruelty, and disconnection, and harm. This is the other pool. I've always got a choice which pool I dip my toe in.
I call my father, I have some news to tell him, and an apology to make to him. He receives my news with kindness, even though I can tell that part of him is wounded slightly and uncertain and a bit scared for me. He tells me to take care of myself, and I tell him don't worry I'll look after myself.
Part of him is so open to love it makes me cry just thinking of him now, tears drop on my lap. I think of my father, and how loving he is, and how grateful I feel that he is able to show me his love, and that, finally, finally, I feel more open than I ever have to receiving it.
He receives my apology with great dignity, and openness, and immediately says to me, don't worry, I understand, things have changed, I understand that you need to do what you need to do. He is acceptance personified, and I babble a bit at him going on a bit even though he keeps saying it's ok, because ultimately I am not yet totally open to the acceptance that he shows me, time after time. It's painful thinking about how I block myself from him helping me with this strong need for acceptance. Today, I feel like caving in, and letting it all wash through me, allowing his love to touch me deeply.
Akasavajri calls, she asks how I am. I tell her that I love her and I'm really excited about seeing her later. She tells me that's all she needs to hear right now, and that she loves me too. We talk for a while longer then hang up. I think often these days about what I would do if today was the last day of my life in this body, and what I would want to do with my last day. The only thing that feels important to me when this awareness is with me, this awareness of what is important in the present moment, is that I tell the people that I love that I love them and am able to spend some time with them.
As the appeal draws to an end, I am much more aware of my interconnectedness with others, much more open to giving people an opportunity to express their love, and to receive it, and much more open to showing people my love for them. What a gift I think, and how grateful I am to receive it.
How is it possible I wonder to hold these two diametrically opposed thoughts? Ah, I realise, they are just thoughts, and then I realise that it is "me" polarising them, and then I let go into something else. I let go into a sense that is difficult to describe, some felt sense of yearning, longing actually, to go beyond all this, all this that makes up our little worlds. A sense of longing for the void, for emptiness, for ultimate transcendence, for Buddhahood, for Enlightenment, for the freeing, cosmic, trascendental spirit of the awakened one. It is all I have ever known or wanted of life somehow, these spiritual questions that stir me into life, into living, into coming alive.
I make myself some decaf coffee. I wonder, how much do I really want to awaken that I choose decaf everytime? That watered down version...but it helps me so much more than the full on caffeine variety...that can give me a quick buzz and then a crash. I've tried life that way, and now I prefer the slow process of awakening, unfolding to what is there, and for now at this stage of my life, I don't want my coffee to speed this process up somehow, I want it to be there alongside me, witnessing, nuturing and encouraging my journey. I slurp coffee. Perversely, it hits me like a train crash that there is only ever this moment to practice in. To manifest our deeply held values. To take a risk. To open up. To be seen. To stand firm. To dance and play. To love and connect. To open. To open to love.
On the doors I feel it everywhere, it's around me and in me and in them and around them, the householders that is.
"Hello"
"Hello"
We smile at each other. Ah, breathe, breathe some more. He is smiling at me, ah, take that in, I'm smiling back, ah, breathe, he's smiling back.
I giggle, he laughs a little. Our eyes grow and sparkle together.
We have said hello. He knows that I'm either trying to sell something or am feeling nervous about asking him for something.
"I'm calling from a charity", the first bit I stumble over slightly, and catch myself. I've said this line hundreds of times over the past 6 weeks, but tonight, in the face of his smile, and his warmth, I stumble, then feel embarrassed. I feel self-conscious, and aware that I feel unable to really meet and be ready to accept his smile and his love and warmth towards me.
His eyes open a little, soften, they glisten in the early evening light, they are dark green, and his face is soft. He looks interested in me, attentive.
"We work in India".
"Ah, in India, that's great, can I have a look at your booklet".
"Of course, here you go".
"Have you been to India yourself?"
"No, but some of my flatmates have".
"Ah, do you live in a houseshare?"
"No, there are three families living here"
"Three families..."
We chat for a few more minutes, his name is Joel, I tell him mine is Jo. His smiles warm me, like the heat from a fire when you've been thoroughly numbed by the cold and your hands yearn for the warmth.
I am caring for myself these days, doing this Karuna appeal has taught me to be more loving and kind and tender towards myself and my needs. When I go to people's doors, it is like I'm able to be really kind to myself. Hello Jo, I say, how are you? How are you feeling today? Ah, sad, that's ok, Ah, tired, that's alright, it's ok to be tired. Ah, alive, mmm, that feels good doesn't it?
Then the householders answer the door and they look and sound kind to me, they often smile, and then relax quite quickly. They don't seem to be in a hurry to get rid of me, and I'm in no hurry to leave. After all, is my evening about these interactions with my fellow human beings or is it about ticking boxes and scribbling on forms, and receiving bank details? I realise instinctively that if it's not about the quality of my connection with myself and with others then Karuna appeals are about nothing at all.
I feel I have learnt to love myself, and in doing so, I've learnt how to open more to love in the universe. It feels as if this love was hiding all along in the universe- and sometimes it wasn't doing a very good job of hiding but I still managed to miss it anyway. The love of a partner, the love of a father, the love of a friend, of a sister, a mother, a brother, a child. In opening to their love I have learnt to give them more love, and I've learnt to think of us all surrounded by love, just dipping in and out of some universal pool. The things that stop me dipping my toe in and spreading this love around me and others are fear, and harshness, and cruelty, and disconnection, and harm. This is the other pool. I've always got a choice which pool I dip my toe in.
I call my father, I have some news to tell him, and an apology to make to him. He receives my news with kindness, even though I can tell that part of him is wounded slightly and uncertain and a bit scared for me. He tells me to take care of myself, and I tell him don't worry I'll look after myself.
Part of him is so open to love it makes me cry just thinking of him now, tears drop on my lap. I think of my father, and how loving he is, and how grateful I feel that he is able to show me his love, and that, finally, finally, I feel more open than I ever have to receiving it.
He receives my apology with great dignity, and openness, and immediately says to me, don't worry, I understand, things have changed, I understand that you need to do what you need to do. He is acceptance personified, and I babble a bit at him going on a bit even though he keeps saying it's ok, because ultimately I am not yet totally open to the acceptance that he shows me, time after time. It's painful thinking about how I block myself from him helping me with this strong need for acceptance. Today, I feel like caving in, and letting it all wash through me, allowing his love to touch me deeply.
Akasavajri calls, she asks how I am. I tell her that I love her and I'm really excited about seeing her later. She tells me that's all she needs to hear right now, and that she loves me too. We talk for a while longer then hang up. I think often these days about what I would do if today was the last day of my life in this body, and what I would want to do with my last day. The only thing that feels important to me when this awareness is with me, this awareness of what is important in the present moment, is that I tell the people that I love that I love them and am able to spend some time with them.
As the appeal draws to an end, I am much more aware of my interconnectedness with others, much more open to giving people an opportunity to express their love, and to receive it, and much more open to showing people my love for them. What a gift I think, and how grateful I am to receive it.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Kshitigarbha comes to save me
It's the end of week 5 of the appeal, and I am sitting in my bed typing late at night. Today has been magical in so many ways. The team began with a checking-in session which lasted around 3 hours this morning. I was determined to bring myself and my experience more into the team dynamic this morning. I have this deep desire to connect with my team mates, and to reveal a little more of myself to them. When you live in Buddhist communities with people it's like there's a lot going on for people, and some of it is hidden below the surface. Some of it you catch glimpses of, and some of it starts to stare back at you, egging you on, to turn it over and look at it, like a precious stone, holding it up to the light and peering at it to see if it is really pure.
And so it was with some of my habits and character defects and assets today. I had some things to take responsibility for, some habits to break free from, and some apologising and making amends for harm I felt I may have done. The practice of turning myself over to the light and of trying to purify my intentions and reach out and connect with my team mates felt very cathartic and healing today. Everyone started to share some of their own little habits and tendencies and some of the pain of the team's lack of connection which had felt it's presence the night before when each one of us seemed to feel unable to support another.
We emerged feeling a lot more supportive and open and generous towards each other I think. Somehow willing to go a bit deeper, be a bit more open and vulnerable towards each other, and an intention to love each other more deeply. These intentions I feel will be invaluable for us as we go into our final week together and keep practising and going out there in order to collect money for Karuna.
Tonight it rained, and rained hard. I sat under a bush in a church yard and watched the rain fall, torrentially at times. It was the beginning of my evening and it seemed like the Universe was telling me to surrender, and let go. I phoned Santavajri, the appeal team leader at Karuna. I could not think of a better time to phone the fundraising guru herself, and I wanted to connect with my friend. In her seven years of fundraising on Karuna appeals, she has literally been there and done it, several times over. I feel that there is probably no situation that I find myself in, no mental state, which she has not experienced. Talking to her filled me with confidence in myself. I think it was the instant empathy that emerged when I talked about not making any money at all this week, and how despairing this was, and how I was on such a high last week, that made me feel warm and held.
I trudged around in the rain and met some householders, one of whom, called Stuart, was absolutely lovely and seemed to instantly connect with Karuna and it's work as he flicked through the pages of the book one by one and asked me about the work that each page was talking about and has pictures of. I'll go back and see him on Monday and hopefully he'll sign up. I felt lifted by our conversation. A few doors later and many people saying no I started to feel despairing, until at 8.30pm I thought I've had enough and stood under a tree, the rain pouring, and ate my sandwich, my dinner for the evening. People walked past, on their way to the pub, and out for dinner, and I wondered what a strange sight I must be, huddled under a tree, sandwich in hand, my umbrella and bag on the wall, no place to call home for me.
As I went through my call backs to householders who already have a copy of our booklet I realised that being Friday night most people were out and started to get really down-hearted. I gave up the thought of getting any money this week long ago (well, yesterday actually). As I started along Falkland Road at 9.15pm I realised that I was in despair and that actually I had given up. But really being able to be with my feelings of despair, something else let go, I think I was somehow letting go of some part of the ego that needs feeding and wasn't being fed. In this letting go emerged this realisation about the Boddhisattva nature of the work that we do. It's wet, I'm damp, it's cold, it's 9.15pm on a Friday night, nobody is at home when I call, and I'd rather be a million and one other places than here. Then it hits me, the Boddhisattva ideal, of gaining Enlightenment for the sake of all beings. There is no thanking for the ego in my night so far, this work has been purely selfless I realise, but I have never really connected with a felt sense of it. Sure, my friends have said kind things to me like that they're really proud of me, and that they couldn't do this work themselves, and that they're really pleased I'm doing work that helps other people, but I've never really taken their comments to heart, until now. Some softness emerges, and I feel like the aspiration to be a Boddhisattva is with me all of a sudden, and I realise that door-knocking for Karuna is about much much more than getting strange yellow forms with people's bank details on them.
At this point of despair, I feel an intense beauty and a connection with the longing for the will to enlightenment for the sake of all beings arising in the Universe. Later I realise that the card I found this afternoon in my papers of Kshitigarbha was there for a reason. This card happens to have been painted by Visuddhimati, whose door I'd knocked on by chance earlier this week. I had never met her before, and until tonight I had no idea that this card I have was painted by her. I don't believe in coincidence - I believe in sychronicity, and somehow I get this sense of our interconnectedness as beings in the Universe.
I believe that somehow seeing this card earlier and pulling it out and putting it on my desk, being drawn to it, somehow in my despairing hell realm this evening, a boddhisattva has made his presence known. Thirty seconds later I knock on Helge's door, a Danish guy I met a few nights ago. His son answers and I explain who I am. Santavajri's words about staying present to what it happening just in the moment, in the present moment, reasonate in my ears. The young son goes away and I can hear him talking about the Karuna booklet with his Dad. I wonder if they are going to give it back to me, or sign up. Helge appears and explains they'd like to sign up. He asks me if it will help me more if he signs up there and then with me, or if I give him a form and he sends it in. I explain to him that yes it will help me if he fills it in there and then. He smiles, and invites me in.
Later he tells me he was a bit hesitant on the doorstep because his dinner had just been served up by his wife in the other room. But he felt like because he knows I called the other day and he wasn't in, then he was keen to help me. I feel humbled by his consideration. At his doorstep I had let go of any expectations, and as we sit at the kitchen table, although I feel warmed by the inside of someone's house and also his generous intentions, I feel as if I have also let go of any expectations of how much he might sign up for. It's just not in my thinking at all. I'm enjoying the arising of the Boddhisattva image in my mind, and the sweet perfume of the lillies on his table. He asks me if £30 a month is ok, and I smile and reply that yes, it's great, it's very generous, and thank him wholeheartly and tell him he has made my night. This is the largest standing order I have ever received for Karuna and I believe it has happened tonight because I have really been able to sit with and let go into my despair. Somewhere amidst that, I have been shown that there is something else. There is a Boddhisattva sitting in there with me and for this reason only I will cherish this cold damp dark night for many year's to come.
And so it was with some of my habits and character defects and assets today. I had some things to take responsibility for, some habits to break free from, and some apologising and making amends for harm I felt I may have done. The practice of turning myself over to the light and of trying to purify my intentions and reach out and connect with my team mates felt very cathartic and healing today. Everyone started to share some of their own little habits and tendencies and some of the pain of the team's lack of connection which had felt it's presence the night before when each one of us seemed to feel unable to support another.
We emerged feeling a lot more supportive and open and generous towards each other I think. Somehow willing to go a bit deeper, be a bit more open and vulnerable towards each other, and an intention to love each other more deeply. These intentions I feel will be invaluable for us as we go into our final week together and keep practising and going out there in order to collect money for Karuna.
Tonight it rained, and rained hard. I sat under a bush in a church yard and watched the rain fall, torrentially at times. It was the beginning of my evening and it seemed like the Universe was telling me to surrender, and let go. I phoned Santavajri, the appeal team leader at Karuna. I could not think of a better time to phone the fundraising guru herself, and I wanted to connect with my friend. In her seven years of fundraising on Karuna appeals, she has literally been there and done it, several times over. I feel that there is probably no situation that I find myself in, no mental state, which she has not experienced. Talking to her filled me with confidence in myself. I think it was the instant empathy that emerged when I talked about not making any money at all this week, and how despairing this was, and how I was on such a high last week, that made me feel warm and held.
I trudged around in the rain and met some householders, one of whom, called Stuart, was absolutely lovely and seemed to instantly connect with Karuna and it's work as he flicked through the pages of the book one by one and asked me about the work that each page was talking about and has pictures of. I'll go back and see him on Monday and hopefully he'll sign up. I felt lifted by our conversation. A few doors later and many people saying no I started to feel despairing, until at 8.30pm I thought I've had enough and stood under a tree, the rain pouring, and ate my sandwich, my dinner for the evening. People walked past, on their way to the pub, and out for dinner, and I wondered what a strange sight I must be, huddled under a tree, sandwich in hand, my umbrella and bag on the wall, no place to call home for me.
As I went through my call backs to householders who already have a copy of our booklet I realised that being Friday night most people were out and started to get really down-hearted. I gave up the thought of getting any money this week long ago (well, yesterday actually). As I started along Falkland Road at 9.15pm I realised that I was in despair and that actually I had given up. But really being able to be with my feelings of despair, something else let go, I think I was somehow letting go of some part of the ego that needs feeding and wasn't being fed. In this letting go emerged this realisation about the Boddhisattva nature of the work that we do. It's wet, I'm damp, it's cold, it's 9.15pm on a Friday night, nobody is at home when I call, and I'd rather be a million and one other places than here. Then it hits me, the Boddhisattva ideal, of gaining Enlightenment for the sake of all beings. There is no thanking for the ego in my night so far, this work has been purely selfless I realise, but I have never really connected with a felt sense of it. Sure, my friends have said kind things to me like that they're really proud of me, and that they couldn't do this work themselves, and that they're really pleased I'm doing work that helps other people, but I've never really taken their comments to heart, until now. Some softness emerges, and I feel like the aspiration to be a Boddhisattva is with me all of a sudden, and I realise that door-knocking for Karuna is about much much more than getting strange yellow forms with people's bank details on them.
At this point of despair, I feel an intense beauty and a connection with the longing for the will to enlightenment for the sake of all beings arising in the Universe. Later I realise that the card I found this afternoon in my papers of Kshitigarbha was there for a reason. This card happens to have been painted by Visuddhimati, whose door I'd knocked on by chance earlier this week. I had never met her before, and until tonight I had no idea that this card I have was painted by her. I don't believe in coincidence - I believe in sychronicity, and somehow I get this sense of our interconnectedness as beings in the Universe.
I believe that somehow seeing this card earlier and pulling it out and putting it on my desk, being drawn to it, somehow in my despairing hell realm this evening, a boddhisattva has made his presence known. Thirty seconds later I knock on Helge's door, a Danish guy I met a few nights ago. His son answers and I explain who I am. Santavajri's words about staying present to what it happening just in the moment, in the present moment, reasonate in my ears. The young son goes away and I can hear him talking about the Karuna booklet with his Dad. I wonder if they are going to give it back to me, or sign up. Helge appears and explains they'd like to sign up. He asks me if it will help me more if he signs up there and then with me, or if I give him a form and he sends it in. I explain to him that yes it will help me if he fills it in there and then. He smiles, and invites me in.
Later he tells me he was a bit hesitant on the doorstep because his dinner had just been served up by his wife in the other room. But he felt like because he knows I called the other day and he wasn't in, then he was keen to help me. I feel humbled by his consideration. At his doorstep I had let go of any expectations, and as we sit at the kitchen table, although I feel warmed by the inside of someone's house and also his generous intentions, I feel as if I have also let go of any expectations of how much he might sign up for. It's just not in my thinking at all. I'm enjoying the arising of the Boddhisattva image in my mind, and the sweet perfume of the lillies on his table. He asks me if £30 a month is ok, and I smile and reply that yes, it's great, it's very generous, and thank him wholeheartly and tell him he has made my night. This is the largest standing order I have ever received for Karuna and I believe it has happened tonight because I have really been able to sit with and let go into my despair. Somewhere amidst that, I have been shown that there is something else. There is a Boddhisattva sitting in there with me and for this reason only I will cherish this cold damp dark night for many year's to come.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Fear of failure comes thick and fast
It's Thursday night of Week 5 of the appeal. So far this week I have raised no money in standing orders. My target of £80 in standing orders for the week looks elusive to me, and yet, all I know is that I just have to keep going out there and trying to connect with the householders, and trying to be creative.
Once again, I've had a pleasant evening. Some lovely conversations with people. I do enjoy connecting with people on the doorstep very much. One couple invited me in for a cup of tea and a biscuit. They gave me a donation of £10, and I thanked them heartily. At 9.30pm this evening I packed my books away in my bag, and sighed, the glass seemed half empty to me. This is all because for the third night in a row I've brought home no standing orders, and I missed yesterday because I was ill, and I feel like I've missed an opportunity to do a night's door-knocking and make some money.
As I reach inside my right hand pocket for the keys for my bike, my fingers touch five pound coins and a £20 note. It dawns on me straight away that in my focusing on the despair of not getting any yellow standing order forms from anyone, I have forgotten about the people who gave me cash donations tonight, about the cup of tea and the biscuit, about the connections with everyone, and about what a nice evening I've had.
At the beginning of my evening I wandered into this Catholic church that has become my new "bench" - a place to perch at the beginning of the evening, and to tune in to how I'm feeling, and to make contact with myself and then the wider universe before I go and knock on people's doors. Tonight I said a prayer that the Universe would help me contact it's will for me, and help me to let go of clinging to my intended outcomes of my efforts for the evening (namely, yellow bits of paper with people's bank details on). I prayed that I would be given help with contacting all that is rich and wonderful in the world, and let go of the craving for standing orders and the insubstantial validation that they bring my (substantial!) ego.
As I unlock my bike ready to go home, I have forgotten my earlier prayer and I am caught up in ego and disappointment once more. When I get home I find out that only one of the others has a standing order, and I feel pain and disappointment about finding myself nudged into bottom place on the scoreboard. I sigh, as I talk to Abhilasa about the disappointment I feel, and how I inflict even more punishment on myself by this feeling of competitiveness (with the others on the team) and disappointment that has set in for me this evening. I know as I type this that we all, everyone of us, on these appeals work with these same type of thoughts, and I know how quickly our feelings can change.
Abhilasa helps me with some visualisations and I imagine my disappointment as a small piece of coal within my body, I contact it and find out it's shape and size. I grasp it with both hands, and move it outside my body in my mind. It starts to shine, and it's silvery edges start to look beautiful. Before long there is a purple fluffy piece of cloth around it and it is looking resplendent in it's 'camp' cosy fluffy covering. It then transforms into silver, gleaming from the darkness. I realise that my piece of coal, my disappointment, is giving me the message that I am good enough, that my best is good enough, and that I'm a perfect human being, perfect in my imperfections.
I remember that everything is impermanent and that these mental states do not last, and that there is nothing like a Karuna appeal to show you how perfectly human you are. There is no place to run, no place to hide. Bhante said of fundraising that it provides: "Subjective feedback par excellence". I feel humbled as I contact feelings of warmth and tenderness towards myself, and realise that it's time to look after myself and retire to bed. Afterall, I know that tomorrow is another day, and that I am open to whatever magic and teachings it will bring.
Once again, I've had a pleasant evening. Some lovely conversations with people. I do enjoy connecting with people on the doorstep very much. One couple invited me in for a cup of tea and a biscuit. They gave me a donation of £10, and I thanked them heartily. At 9.30pm this evening I packed my books away in my bag, and sighed, the glass seemed half empty to me. This is all because for the third night in a row I've brought home no standing orders, and I missed yesterday because I was ill, and I feel like I've missed an opportunity to do a night's door-knocking and make some money.
As I reach inside my right hand pocket for the keys for my bike, my fingers touch five pound coins and a £20 note. It dawns on me straight away that in my focusing on the despair of not getting any yellow standing order forms from anyone, I have forgotten about the people who gave me cash donations tonight, about the cup of tea and the biscuit, about the connections with everyone, and about what a nice evening I've had.
At the beginning of my evening I wandered into this Catholic church that has become my new "bench" - a place to perch at the beginning of the evening, and to tune in to how I'm feeling, and to make contact with myself and then the wider universe before I go and knock on people's doors. Tonight I said a prayer that the Universe would help me contact it's will for me, and help me to let go of clinging to my intended outcomes of my efforts for the evening (namely, yellow bits of paper with people's bank details on). I prayed that I would be given help with contacting all that is rich and wonderful in the world, and let go of the craving for standing orders and the insubstantial validation that they bring my (substantial!) ego.
As I unlock my bike ready to go home, I have forgotten my earlier prayer and I am caught up in ego and disappointment once more. When I get home I find out that only one of the others has a standing order, and I feel pain and disappointment about finding myself nudged into bottom place on the scoreboard. I sigh, as I talk to Abhilasa about the disappointment I feel, and how I inflict even more punishment on myself by this feeling of competitiveness (with the others on the team) and disappointment that has set in for me this evening. I know as I type this that we all, everyone of us, on these appeals work with these same type of thoughts, and I know how quickly our feelings can change.
Abhilasa helps me with some visualisations and I imagine my disappointment as a small piece of coal within my body, I contact it and find out it's shape and size. I grasp it with both hands, and move it outside my body in my mind. It starts to shine, and it's silvery edges start to look beautiful. Before long there is a purple fluffy piece of cloth around it and it is looking resplendent in it's 'camp' cosy fluffy covering. It then transforms into silver, gleaming from the darkness. I realise that my piece of coal, my disappointment, is giving me the message that I am good enough, that my best is good enough, and that I'm a perfect human being, perfect in my imperfections.
I remember that everything is impermanent and that these mental states do not last, and that there is nothing like a Karuna appeal to show you how perfectly human you are. There is no place to run, no place to hide. Bhante said of fundraising that it provides: "Subjective feedback par excellence". I feel humbled as I contact feelings of warmth and tenderness towards myself, and realise that it's time to look after myself and retire to bed. Afterall, I know that tomorrow is another day, and that I am open to whatever magic and teachings it will bring.
Monday, July 7, 2008
I'm alive and it's raining cats and dogs
I sit on my bed in our den upstairs. It is Monday of week 5 - I have ten days of door-knocking left to do.
I think about my target and what I will have to do to reach it. I've raised just under £100 in standing orders and over £300 in donations so far. What that means is that I've raised just over £6,000 for Karuna so far. My target is to raise £270 in standing orders by the end of the appeal, which if I make it will add up to £16,200 in total for Karuna. This is it, the crucial week 5 - if we all have a good one then we will be well set up to raise our individual and team targets. We've all raised pretty much the same amount of money at this point. This is unusual I find myself thinking - I wonder what it means. We've set ourselves a weekly target of £80 each this week in standing orders to get, a team target of £320. We are revved up and ready to go.
It's been raining on and off all day. Not just drissle - it's torrential. As I sit here typing I hear thunder and lightening, and the rain splashing off the roof. In a few minutes I will put on my waterproofs, check out my trusty steed (alias bicyle) and head off to Kentish Town.
I was talking to Jo earlier on today about the fact that I've managed to do 10 weeks of fundraising for Karuna in total in the past year and a half and not once have I had to put up an umbrella because of the rain. I tell her I've got this image of me, sad and desperate, standing in the rain under my umbrella asking people to help me, and they just turn to me, and look at me with pitying eyes, and say, sorry, love, you'd best go home, what are you doing out in the rain anyway?
Jo suggests I think about "Singing in the rain" and Fred Astair and Ginger Rodgers, and Frank Sinatra and how they'd all love to be out there dancing and singing and jumping around in the puddles having fun. How they'd sing and laugh and smile. I realise that it's all an attitude how you look at the rain. I think about whether I'm a willing victim for the evening, or whether I'm prepared to go out there and contact my playful side, contact the showperson within me that loves to sing and dance, and laugh. I think about being invited into people's homes because it's raining, and how they will feed me dinner and tea and we will chat about Karuna, and they will sign up. I imagine it all, and the rain begins to stop.
It's time for me to hit the streets once more.
I think about my target and what I will have to do to reach it. I've raised just under £100 in standing orders and over £300 in donations so far. What that means is that I've raised just over £6,000 for Karuna so far. My target is to raise £270 in standing orders by the end of the appeal, which if I make it will add up to £16,200 in total for Karuna. This is it, the crucial week 5 - if we all have a good one then we will be well set up to raise our individual and team targets. We've all raised pretty much the same amount of money at this point. This is unusual I find myself thinking - I wonder what it means. We've set ourselves a weekly target of £80 each this week in standing orders to get, a team target of £320. We are revved up and ready to go.
It's been raining on and off all day. Not just drissle - it's torrential. As I sit here typing I hear thunder and lightening, and the rain splashing off the roof. In a few minutes I will put on my waterproofs, check out my trusty steed (alias bicyle) and head off to Kentish Town.
I was talking to Jo earlier on today about the fact that I've managed to do 10 weeks of fundraising for Karuna in total in the past year and a half and not once have I had to put up an umbrella because of the rain. I tell her I've got this image of me, sad and desperate, standing in the rain under my umbrella asking people to help me, and they just turn to me, and look at me with pitying eyes, and say, sorry, love, you'd best go home, what are you doing out in the rain anyway?
Jo suggests I think about "Singing in the rain" and Fred Astair and Ginger Rodgers, and Frank Sinatra and how they'd all love to be out there dancing and singing and jumping around in the puddles having fun. How they'd sing and laugh and smile. I realise that it's all an attitude how you look at the rain. I think about whether I'm a willing victim for the evening, or whether I'm prepared to go out there and contact my playful side, contact the showperson within me that loves to sing and dance, and laugh. I think about being invited into people's homes because it's raining, and how they will feed me dinner and tea and we will chat about Karuna, and they will sign up. I imagine it all, and the rain begins to stop.
It's time for me to hit the streets once more.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Emerging from a deep sleep
I realise that I have been sleeping my way through my life for the past few months. Karuna has begun to wake me up. Today we did training with Manjuka again. He asked us to think of the people we meet on the doors as a mere reflection of our own states of mind, and a reflection of what is alive in us at that moment when we knock on the door. If we are closed and shy we will meet shy people that tell us that no, they don't want to support us. He asks us to think about what kind of people we are meeting. We are all meeting different people.
The people I meet are divided into three camps. The first lot of people I'm meeting on the doors are householders that are really open to me. They are warm and giving and generous, and seem to smile at me instantly and then seem really interested in what I have to say. They take an interest in me, often showing me this through body language or eye contact. Often they invite me in for a cup of tea, or dinner even. I am amazed that there is such openness on these streets. These people are reflections of the part of me that loves myself and shows this love to others. The part of me that is able to reach out to others and take them in and hold them in loving appreciation. When I am in contact with these feelings, it is as if the householders are relaxed and at ease, and shining back at me. Often they give us money, standing orders or donations. It's been an excellent week so far money wise. I made more than my personal target for the week, and our team smashed it's weekly target tonight and we've got two nights of door-knocking left still. We are all very pleased. There is a while still to go on the appeal, and we have a lot of money still to raise, but tonight we're in jubliant mood.
The second set of householders I meet are people who are confused or uncertain. It is as if there is some fog between them and me. I realise that if I am able to stay with their and my uncertainty, then often the fog lifts. If I'm not able to stay with the uncertainty (which is the case more often at the moment) then I walk away from the encounters feeling bereft and even more confused.
The third set of householders I meet are people who are up for dancing with me. Sometimes I initiate the dance, sometimes I hang back and follow their lead. For me they often are saying no, and yes, at the same time. My habitual tendency is to panic a bit and to focus on the no, because it is safer, and I don't want to open up possibilities of yes's that eventually might end up in nos. I'd rather get the rejection over quick and proper like a short sting, rather than a painful lingering wound.
Of course one thing I'm realising is that to be a really good fundraiser it is these people that I must stay with and try to dance with. These are the people that will make the difference to whether I raise my target amount or not. If I can stay with the tension of the yes and the no, and open up possibilities for them and me then things will start to happen. Today I vow to dance more with people. To focus on being with my fear and to try to open things up with people rather than close things down. Tonight I have a good night and realise that I'm leaving a lot of space for the householder to come to me, rather than me go to them. It's a pleasurable dance, like somehow they are exploring whether they're interested in supporting Karuna, rather than me explore it for them in a more directive way. Today I focus on following, rather than leading interactions. Doors open, money is made.
The people I meet are divided into three camps. The first lot of people I'm meeting on the doors are householders that are really open to me. They are warm and giving and generous, and seem to smile at me instantly and then seem really interested in what I have to say. They take an interest in me, often showing me this through body language or eye contact. Often they invite me in for a cup of tea, or dinner even. I am amazed that there is such openness on these streets. These people are reflections of the part of me that loves myself and shows this love to others. The part of me that is able to reach out to others and take them in and hold them in loving appreciation. When I am in contact with these feelings, it is as if the householders are relaxed and at ease, and shining back at me. Often they give us money, standing orders or donations. It's been an excellent week so far money wise. I made more than my personal target for the week, and our team smashed it's weekly target tonight and we've got two nights of door-knocking left still. We are all very pleased. There is a while still to go on the appeal, and we have a lot of money still to raise, but tonight we're in jubliant mood.
The second set of householders I meet are people who are confused or uncertain. It is as if there is some fog between them and me. I realise that if I am able to stay with their and my uncertainty, then often the fog lifts. If I'm not able to stay with the uncertainty (which is the case more often at the moment) then I walk away from the encounters feeling bereft and even more confused.
The third set of householders I meet are people who are up for dancing with me. Sometimes I initiate the dance, sometimes I hang back and follow their lead. For me they often are saying no, and yes, at the same time. My habitual tendency is to panic a bit and to focus on the no, because it is safer, and I don't want to open up possibilities of yes's that eventually might end up in nos. I'd rather get the rejection over quick and proper like a short sting, rather than a painful lingering wound.
Of course one thing I'm realising is that to be a really good fundraiser it is these people that I must stay with and try to dance with. These are the people that will make the difference to whether I raise my target amount or not. If I can stay with the tension of the yes and the no, and open up possibilities for them and me then things will start to happen. Today I vow to dance more with people. To focus on being with my fear and to try to open things up with people rather than close things down. Tonight I have a good night and realise that I'm leaving a lot of space for the householder to come to me, rather than me go to them. It's a pleasurable dance, like somehow they are exploring whether they're interested in supporting Karuna, rather than me explore it for them in a more directive way. Today I focus on following, rather than leading interactions. Doors open, money is made.
Monday, June 30, 2008
A meeting with Tara
I met a woman, her name was Tara. She was 85 years old. She took her time coming to the door. When she came she said: "I'm so sorry, I have no money for you" and: "I'm sorry, I took such a long time to get to the door". And then..."But I tell you, young woman, what you are doing is amazing, you are amazing!". Her eyes reach out to me, it is as if they are larger than life, they come out to me, envelope me. She pulls my hand to hers, and she says: "You are fabulous, you are amazing, you are amazing, the work that you do". And I am challenged to open to her love, her appreciation, her affection, and her compassion. She is radiant, much more present than I, and I am challenged to open to her love. I do and I feel myself soften and lean in. She grasps my hand in hers and says for a final time: "You are fabulous". I thank her, take in her love and compassion for a few more moments and bid her goodnight.
In years to come, people will ask me what happened when I went fundraising for Karuna during the Summer of 2008. I shall say I met Tara, and that is all I will need to say.
In years to come, people will ask me what happened when I went fundraising for Karuna during the Summer of 2008. I shall say I met Tara, and that is all I will need to say.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Batman and Robin
I meet a guy called Robin, he leans out of his bedroom window, he has no shirt on. I am getting used to a lot of people leaning out of their windows, usually I feel a bit like I'm in a game, a bit of a chase...a bit like cat and mouse. It's like they're saying, you've rung my door bell, I've opened the window, what will happen next? Usually I go casual, like I'm relaxed with craning my neck up and talking about the charity a bit to them - they are usually so far away from me, maybe there is a degree of ease about this, for them and for me. A lot of the time I say: "I'm calling from a charity", they say: "which one", I say: "The Karuna Trust": "Oh, I don't know that one, hang on a sec, I'm coming down". When they open the door, usually they are really open, it's like somehow we've done all the getting to know each other from afar.
And so it was with Robin, he said immediately: "Will you come in for a cup of tea?". I say: "Yes, that would be lovely". When we're inside he opens his cupboard door: "What kind of tea do you like?" I see some decaf Tetley tea lurking in the corner of the cupboard. I say: "Ah, you have decaf tea, not a lot of people do, I'll have that please". He is still reeling off tens of different herbal teas. He says everytime he has a new girlfriend they leave a different type of tea in his cupboard. I ask him if he's had many girlfriends, he says "not really, but tea keeps for a long time doesn't it?"
He has decaf too, so he can use the teapot he tells me, then he realises he doesn't have any milk. "Are you alright sitting there while I pop out and get some milk". "Sure, I'll sit and get acquainted with Bonnie the cat, isn't she beautiful?". "Yes, and I'll turn up the music, this piece is just exquisite he says, it moves me deeply". Splendid, I think, and think to myself, how lovely it is that this man trusts me enough to walk straight out of his house leaving me in it when he's only known me for two minutes.
Robin and I chat and have tea for half an hour. When I leave I feel refreshed and nurtured for the journey ahead. I have never refused an invitation to go into someone's home, it's like an act of spontaneous generosity from them, and it feels that I want to meet it and receive it.
I call around to Simon, the last call of my night. The door is bolted, the curtains are closed, it's 9.20pm but I can see that the lights are still on. When I called at Simon's three nights ago he said that he'd never been to India and hadn't heard of the untouchables, but he told me to come back in three night's time. He unbolts his door and opens the curtains. I greet him and wait for him to talk to me. He says straight away: "I've decided to support you". "That's great". "Do you have a form for me or something?". "Yes, I do". "Great, you best come in then". "I've been looking at your website, and your finances, I'm concerned about how much money you spend in order to make money..." We chat about this and several other things. He then says, I can't give you that much money I'm afraid, as I'm already supporting others. I wait patiently, he fills in the form. He's decided on £15 per month. £15 per month supports the education and accommodation for one child in a hostel. He has given the gift of a child's education. I am moved and amazed as I type this and take it in some more.
We chat about cycling, he is a big cyclist, as is his wife he tells me. We chat about where I live, in Bethnal Green, and about the Radiohead concert that's just been held in the park there for the last two days. He tells me that he went for the Anti-racism concert about six weeks ago there and tells me he really enjoyed it. I explain that I was just coming back from a retreat that day so missed it, but didn't miss the crowds of people, it looked great.
We chat about Buddhism and my spiritual practice, volunteering for Karuna and he asks some basic questions about Buddhist philosophy and belief. I ask him about his beliefs, he's a Christian and we chat about how he practices this. I ask him to use his toilet before I cycle back.
It's dark outside and he's worried about where I'm parked as it's raining and I have a twenty minute cycle ride back. I tell him not to worry that I'm only around the corner and I have waterproofs. He sees me to the door, and I think, actually, you have provided a young Tibetan girl an education that may well mean the difference between a life of hardship and toil and a life full of possibilities and choices.
It is hard to take this in again as I type. That this man's money can mean an exact end to suffering for one girl or boy or woman or man somewhere. Tonight as I take my leave from Simon he is the hero, I am the conduit, and that young girl has been given a gift of an education. This is a privilege that I had access to and that I somewhat take for granted.
As I leave Simon's house, I look up at the darkness and the shape of the trees, and the light shining from his door. Earlier on in the evening I asked him what moved him about our charity and he said it was the hideousness of caste, and the fact that people just can't change what they are born into. He waves goodbye to me and says cycle carefully and as I look back I swear I see a bat hanging from the tree, and I realise Simon has become Batman, a superhero for me and that little girl tonight.
And so it was with Robin, he said immediately: "Will you come in for a cup of tea?". I say: "Yes, that would be lovely". When we're inside he opens his cupboard door: "What kind of tea do you like?" I see some decaf Tetley tea lurking in the corner of the cupboard. I say: "Ah, you have decaf tea, not a lot of people do, I'll have that please". He is still reeling off tens of different herbal teas. He says everytime he has a new girlfriend they leave a different type of tea in his cupboard. I ask him if he's had many girlfriends, he says "not really, but tea keeps for a long time doesn't it?"
He has decaf too, so he can use the teapot he tells me, then he realises he doesn't have any milk. "Are you alright sitting there while I pop out and get some milk". "Sure, I'll sit and get acquainted with Bonnie the cat, isn't she beautiful?". "Yes, and I'll turn up the music, this piece is just exquisite he says, it moves me deeply". Splendid, I think, and think to myself, how lovely it is that this man trusts me enough to walk straight out of his house leaving me in it when he's only known me for two minutes.
Robin and I chat and have tea for half an hour. When I leave I feel refreshed and nurtured for the journey ahead. I have never refused an invitation to go into someone's home, it's like an act of spontaneous generosity from them, and it feels that I want to meet it and receive it.
I call around to Simon, the last call of my night. The door is bolted, the curtains are closed, it's 9.20pm but I can see that the lights are still on. When I called at Simon's three nights ago he said that he'd never been to India and hadn't heard of the untouchables, but he told me to come back in three night's time. He unbolts his door and opens the curtains. I greet him and wait for him to talk to me. He says straight away: "I've decided to support you". "That's great". "Do you have a form for me or something?". "Yes, I do". "Great, you best come in then". "I've been looking at your website, and your finances, I'm concerned about how much money you spend in order to make money..." We chat about this and several other things. He then says, I can't give you that much money I'm afraid, as I'm already supporting others. I wait patiently, he fills in the form. He's decided on £15 per month. £15 per month supports the education and accommodation for one child in a hostel. He has given the gift of a child's education. I am moved and amazed as I type this and take it in some more.
We chat about cycling, he is a big cyclist, as is his wife he tells me. We chat about where I live, in Bethnal Green, and about the Radiohead concert that's just been held in the park there for the last two days. He tells me that he went for the Anti-racism concert about six weeks ago there and tells me he really enjoyed it. I explain that I was just coming back from a retreat that day so missed it, but didn't miss the crowds of people, it looked great.
We chat about Buddhism and my spiritual practice, volunteering for Karuna and he asks some basic questions about Buddhist philosophy and belief. I ask him about his beliefs, he's a Christian and we chat about how he practices this. I ask him to use his toilet before I cycle back.
It's dark outside and he's worried about where I'm parked as it's raining and I have a twenty minute cycle ride back. I tell him not to worry that I'm only around the corner and I have waterproofs. He sees me to the door, and I think, actually, you have provided a young Tibetan girl an education that may well mean the difference between a life of hardship and toil and a life full of possibilities and choices.
It is hard to take this in again as I type. That this man's money can mean an exact end to suffering for one girl or boy or woman or man somewhere. Tonight as I take my leave from Simon he is the hero, I am the conduit, and that young girl has been given a gift of an education. This is a privilege that I had access to and that I somewhat take for granted.
As I leave Simon's house, I look up at the darkness and the shape of the trees, and the light shining from his door. Earlier on in the evening I asked him what moved him about our charity and he said it was the hideousness of caste, and the fact that people just can't change what they are born into. He waves goodbye to me and says cycle carefully and as I look back I swear I see a bat hanging from the tree, and I realise Simon has become Batman, a superhero for me and that little girl tonight.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
I walk down a different street
I meditate at 8am with the team. In the stillness of my being arises a great sadness, and I am able to unfold a bit more into grief which suddenly strikes as if from nowhere about my grandmother. Who knows what strands of our psyche are interwoven and from where they come to the fore. So it is with grief, emotions come and you don't really know what's going on. I phone a good friend, Sarah, who I used to work in the Evolution shop with. I catch her before their regular Wednesday morning team meeting and she says she has ten minutes and would really like to give me her full attention for ten minutes, and for me to tell her what's going on. I really appreciate her directness, she's been on retreat the week before and we were in contact and she knew I was struggling. Sarah lost her brother around a year and a half ago now. It happened while we were working together in the shop. I am comforted by her presence, she seems very present with me, and I'm able to lean on her and ask for her help. I don't find this easy and she knows that about me. I am so grateful to have friends that really know me and have stuck by me inspite of our ups and downs.
I make a habit of reaching out for help when I need it today, it seems like the kindest thing that I can do for myself. I am lucky, surrounded by family and friends.
I go out on the doors in the evening. Before I begin I sit on a bench (my regular bench). After a couple of minutes a man arrives and announces that there's enough room for both of us on the bench. He squeezes in beside me, his leg almost on top of mine. I say to him that actually it's all a bit tight for me and I get up. He gives me no eye contact and I am left standing while he sits. A woman rolling a cigarette across on the other side of the bench says to me: "Oh, don't worry, would you like my seat, I can go sit somewhere else". I thank her and we nod and make eye contact, she smiles at me. I think, how kind of her, and she seems genuinely pleased to be giving up her seat for me.
Before I'm able to sit down in the space she left, the guy has started to put all his food out where she was sitting. I make a beeline for the end of the bench beside his food, and he shuffles it back a little bit into his rather large orbit that his "being" seems to need tonight. Inside I feel hurt, angry and sensitive. The stories in my head say: "How are you feeling Jo? Ah, hurt, ah, angry". Can you say something to this man, how can you meet his energy? You should stick up for yourself Jo, tell him how unpleasant you've found the last few minutes, how insensitive he's been. I mull it all over, and close my eyes. I think NVC language..."I'm feeling hurt, because I'm needing connection, empathy, kindness, ease...respect, sensitivity". Is there a request I want to make to this man? Nope. Is there a request I want to make to myself, yes, "would you be willing to talk to this man, Jo?" - Nope, I'm too angry. "Would you be willing to give yourself some love and metta in this situation? - Yes, I sit and try to soothe my hurt feelings. After 5 minutes I get up and walk away, leaving the man on the bench.
As I approach the road I've decided to knock doors on this evening, I walk down the street taking it all in and trying to recover from the bench incident and the man. I feel freer of it now that I'm connecting with my fundraising street. I knock on door 47, no answer, but a car pulls up. In it a woman is pointing her finger at me and mouthing something, almost shouting through the passenger seat. She looks so angry and she is wagging her finger at me screaming "No, No, No, No!". I am standing at her door with my booklets. I think to myself, gosh, she's angry, and gosh, I bet she thinks I'm selling something. And afterwards I think about her mental state and realise I have no idea what her day has been like and what might have happened in her life to put her in that mental state. I mouth to her and point to her house, and say "Is this your house?" - I know that she can't hear me through the car window. She is incensed with anger, and I feel the only thing I know I must do is try to hold her gaze, but in a soft way, so as not to exacerbate her anxiety. She slowly looks away and keeps looking straight ahead away from me. She's not getting out of the car, and I realise it is time for me to walk away from this woman, this other human being out there. I feel like I've shown her my humanness, and hopefully softened around her anger.
As I walk away I realise I'm in no fit state to knock another door straight away. I walk down the street slowly and tears come to my eyes. I think, what a world, and what are those two encounters all about, one after the other? Our minds create our worlds I think, and I think of karma. I realise how interconnected we all are and how much I still have to learn and practice. I have let both these beings state of minds affect mine, and I realise that my conditions for this evening so far have been pretty challenging. I look for somewhere to sit down and have a proper cry. The tears feel like tears for my grandmother and they need a resting place. I find a quiet street that I've never been on before. There is nowhere to sit down, but I can breathe more easily here. My tears dry and I take a look around. I think about giving up for the evening, then I remember Manjusvara saying to us earlier on today, the worst thing a fundraiser can do is give up. I look around, the houses don't look that bad on this street even though its not marked up on my map. I decide to warm up on this street, and give it a go. Part of the street is a great Karuna street, lots of people take booklets, I get into the swing of it. Afterall, I've walked down a different street.
After a while I realise I must go back and face my demons on the original street. I go to the women's house who was shouting at me from the car. I knock on her next door neighbours house. No one answers and then I move down the street. It's another good street, lots of people take booklets and I make a couple of really good connections with the householders.
When I get home I tell the guys that I feel I've had a tough night. I am met by warm glowing faces and an ease of communication and support that I've been longing for. They tell me I'm fab, and that they're sorry I've had a tough evening. I hear all about their evenings and I realise I am not alone, they have had similar ups and downs. Paddy says to me, whenever I'm out on the street, and anyone is giving me grief just bring him to mind, he will be my protector. I shy away from telling him that I already think about him especially when I encounter people who sometimes tell me to go away and want to close the door on me quickly. I think what would Paddy say, he would say internally to the householder "you can do better than that", "we can all do better than that".
I make a habit of reaching out for help when I need it today, it seems like the kindest thing that I can do for myself. I am lucky, surrounded by family and friends.
I go out on the doors in the evening. Before I begin I sit on a bench (my regular bench). After a couple of minutes a man arrives and announces that there's enough room for both of us on the bench. He squeezes in beside me, his leg almost on top of mine. I say to him that actually it's all a bit tight for me and I get up. He gives me no eye contact and I am left standing while he sits. A woman rolling a cigarette across on the other side of the bench says to me: "Oh, don't worry, would you like my seat, I can go sit somewhere else". I thank her and we nod and make eye contact, she smiles at me. I think, how kind of her, and she seems genuinely pleased to be giving up her seat for me.
Before I'm able to sit down in the space she left, the guy has started to put all his food out where she was sitting. I make a beeline for the end of the bench beside his food, and he shuffles it back a little bit into his rather large orbit that his "being" seems to need tonight. Inside I feel hurt, angry and sensitive. The stories in my head say: "How are you feeling Jo? Ah, hurt, ah, angry". Can you say something to this man, how can you meet his energy? You should stick up for yourself Jo, tell him how unpleasant you've found the last few minutes, how insensitive he's been. I mull it all over, and close my eyes. I think NVC language..."I'm feeling hurt, because I'm needing connection, empathy, kindness, ease...respect, sensitivity". Is there a request I want to make to this man? Nope. Is there a request I want to make to myself, yes, "would you be willing to talk to this man, Jo?" - Nope, I'm too angry. "Would you be willing to give yourself some love and metta in this situation? - Yes, I sit and try to soothe my hurt feelings. After 5 minutes I get up and walk away, leaving the man on the bench.
As I approach the road I've decided to knock doors on this evening, I walk down the street taking it all in and trying to recover from the bench incident and the man. I feel freer of it now that I'm connecting with my fundraising street. I knock on door 47, no answer, but a car pulls up. In it a woman is pointing her finger at me and mouthing something, almost shouting through the passenger seat. She looks so angry and she is wagging her finger at me screaming "No, No, No, No!". I am standing at her door with my booklets. I think to myself, gosh, she's angry, and gosh, I bet she thinks I'm selling something. And afterwards I think about her mental state and realise I have no idea what her day has been like and what might have happened in her life to put her in that mental state. I mouth to her and point to her house, and say "Is this your house?" - I know that she can't hear me through the car window. She is incensed with anger, and I feel the only thing I know I must do is try to hold her gaze, but in a soft way, so as not to exacerbate her anxiety. She slowly looks away and keeps looking straight ahead away from me. She's not getting out of the car, and I realise it is time for me to walk away from this woman, this other human being out there. I feel like I've shown her my humanness, and hopefully softened around her anger.
As I walk away I realise I'm in no fit state to knock another door straight away. I walk down the street slowly and tears come to my eyes. I think, what a world, and what are those two encounters all about, one after the other? Our minds create our worlds I think, and I think of karma. I realise how interconnected we all are and how much I still have to learn and practice. I have let both these beings state of minds affect mine, and I realise that my conditions for this evening so far have been pretty challenging. I look for somewhere to sit down and have a proper cry. The tears feel like tears for my grandmother and they need a resting place. I find a quiet street that I've never been on before. There is nowhere to sit down, but I can breathe more easily here. My tears dry and I take a look around. I think about giving up for the evening, then I remember Manjusvara saying to us earlier on today, the worst thing a fundraiser can do is give up. I look around, the houses don't look that bad on this street even though its not marked up on my map. I decide to warm up on this street, and give it a go. Part of the street is a great Karuna street, lots of people take booklets, I get into the swing of it. Afterall, I've walked down a different street.
After a while I realise I must go back and face my demons on the original street. I go to the women's house who was shouting at me from the car. I knock on her next door neighbours house. No one answers and then I move down the street. It's another good street, lots of people take booklets and I make a couple of really good connections with the householders.
When I get home I tell the guys that I feel I've had a tough night. I am met by warm glowing faces and an ease of communication and support that I've been longing for. They tell me I'm fab, and that they're sorry I've had a tough evening. I hear all about their evenings and I realise I am not alone, they have had similar ups and downs. Paddy says to me, whenever I'm out on the street, and anyone is giving me grief just bring him to mind, he will be my protector. I shy away from telling him that I already think about him especially when I encounter people who sometimes tell me to go away and want to close the door on me quickly. I think what would Paddy say, he would say internally to the householder "you can do better than that", "we can all do better than that".
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
The three demons and the pot of gold
Manjuka comes to do some training with us. He tells us about the hidden buddha behind every door and the pot of gold that exists somewhere within the heart of the mandala. Our job is to find the gold, but first we must enter the mandala via one of four gateways. The gateways are guarded by demons.
The first demon we encounter is the demon that tries to tell us to go away, that we are not even worthy of communicating with, that we are not even worthy of being alive. The second demon is apathetic, it is a demon of indifference. It says to us, yeah, yeah, I agree with you, those poor people in India, yes I should help you, but you know what, I'm not going to so there. The third demon is a perfectionist. It tells us that if we are excellent and good and perfect in every way and answer all their questions perfectly then it will allow us to gain access to the mandala and touch the pot of gold.
I think long and hard about which demon I encounter most on the doors - both inside of me, and also external to me in the householders that I meet.
I go out fundraising tonight and Manjuka comes with me, in order to help me with feedback on my fundraising. After I knock a few doors he asks me what's going on. I explain that I think that deep down there is this feeling that actually I'm not worthy of being here knocking these doors. I have not been aware of this feeling before, not truly in touch with it, but tonight I'm able to feel it and see it quite clearly. It's quite subtle because I go to the doors and I stand tall, I engage the householder, I acknowledge what's going on with them - I do all this without thinking, "I shouldn't be here" and then I go and say something like "you look busy" or "have I caught you in the middle of something", or "ah, I see, you haven't got much cash at the moment", and it's like I'm subtlely making my exit before I've even begun to entertain the possibility that this might go really well and that the householder is enjoying me being on their doorstep.
I hate hanging in there with the tension that they might reject me or that they might be unsure about whether to give or not. I want it black or white. I want them to say yes or no, none of this in between tension. When I talk to Manjuka about this, a great pain arises within my heart, and I realise that I am letting myself down badly, and that actually I'm being a coward. He says that we do these things because they make us feel safe, so it's ok. He says that the great thing is that I know what I'm doing, so I have great awareness and can train myself on the doors, he doesn't need to be there! I stumble somewhat as I feel I'm learning a humble lesson, and still can't quite believe that mid-way through my second appeal for Karuna, I still feel on a certain level that I don't belong on people's door-steps and that somehow I have no right to be there. I say this after having knocked many doors and gotten money off a lot of people. Fundraising for Karuna is humbling, we can only work with where we are at. Tonight I realise I'm still self-sabotaging, but that's ok, I'm working on it, it's a practice, a spiritual practice.
I call back to a couple of women, one of them called Harriet invites me in. We chat for around half an hour, and finally she says that she'd like to make a donation but she's not sure about a standing order. She's retired and feels that she can't afford it. She really likes our charity though and wants to give. We explore it some more and I ask her to help me. I suggest she takes some more time to think about what amount she could regularly give the charity, and what the charity can do with a regular amount from her, that we can't do with a donation. I also thank her for offering her donation, and reassure her that if she decides to do this then that is great. But, I challenge her some more to think about what she will get in return if she gives a little more. I feel like our relationship on this issue is down to trust, and essentially I'm asking her to trust me, and see how it might feel to give a little more. I leave the form with her, and make an appointment to go back and pick it up.
Another woman comes to her door, same story again, she really wants to support us but can't afford £10 per month, she wants to talk to her husband and daughter about it. Will I accept a donation tonight? I acknowledge her kind offer and again explain why a regular amount would be better for the charity and better for me, and I ask her in what way it might be better for her?She says she saw a colleague of mine many years ago and they knocked on her door, she can't remember why she didn't sign up then, because she really likes our charity. I wonder inside why she is thinking of passing up the opportunity again. I decide to help her out and see if she can change her mind and follow through on wanting to give us a regular amount.
I am asking her to help the people in India, and asking her to have a think about what that will feel like for her. She is very motivated and open about what we are doing in India, so again I ask her to have more of a think about it. I leave her the form, she says she'll fill it in and send it back to us. I am wise to this gatekeeper - I explain to her in a good humoured but serious way that I fear what will happen is that she'll take the form full of her good intentions which I'm seeing tonight, and that, like others have done before, she will not fill it in because life has a habit of intervening. I explain to her that if I call back that will make it more likely that she'll do it and then she'll have the satisfaction of knowing that she is giving to the charity and she has acted on her intentions. She agrees with me, and gives me a relieved smile and we make a date for next week.
I do not know if either of these women will give me their completed standing order forms, but tonight I feel like I've done everything I could possibly do to acknowledge their concerns, build trust, stay open to possibilities and offer suggestions. I also feel like I've asked them for their help and listened to them saying no, and then turned them around to consider that maybe they are not saying no to a standing order afterall. I feel more at my edge than I have before, and also I know that for today I have done all that I can, and that ultimately more patience may well be required when I visit them again, and also that I must let go of the outcome for today.
Today I faced some of my demons, and tried to tame them. Access to the mandala and the big pot of gold seems closer and more tangible than it did before.
The first demon we encounter is the demon that tries to tell us to go away, that we are not even worthy of communicating with, that we are not even worthy of being alive. The second demon is apathetic, it is a demon of indifference. It says to us, yeah, yeah, I agree with you, those poor people in India, yes I should help you, but you know what, I'm not going to so there. The third demon is a perfectionist. It tells us that if we are excellent and good and perfect in every way and answer all their questions perfectly then it will allow us to gain access to the mandala and touch the pot of gold.
I think long and hard about which demon I encounter most on the doors - both inside of me, and also external to me in the householders that I meet.
I go out fundraising tonight and Manjuka comes with me, in order to help me with feedback on my fundraising. After I knock a few doors he asks me what's going on. I explain that I think that deep down there is this feeling that actually I'm not worthy of being here knocking these doors. I have not been aware of this feeling before, not truly in touch with it, but tonight I'm able to feel it and see it quite clearly. It's quite subtle because I go to the doors and I stand tall, I engage the householder, I acknowledge what's going on with them - I do all this without thinking, "I shouldn't be here" and then I go and say something like "you look busy" or "have I caught you in the middle of something", or "ah, I see, you haven't got much cash at the moment", and it's like I'm subtlely making my exit before I've even begun to entertain the possibility that this might go really well and that the householder is enjoying me being on their doorstep.
I hate hanging in there with the tension that they might reject me or that they might be unsure about whether to give or not. I want it black or white. I want them to say yes or no, none of this in between tension. When I talk to Manjuka about this, a great pain arises within my heart, and I realise that I am letting myself down badly, and that actually I'm being a coward. He says that we do these things because they make us feel safe, so it's ok. He says that the great thing is that I know what I'm doing, so I have great awareness and can train myself on the doors, he doesn't need to be there! I stumble somewhat as I feel I'm learning a humble lesson, and still can't quite believe that mid-way through my second appeal for Karuna, I still feel on a certain level that I don't belong on people's door-steps and that somehow I have no right to be there. I say this after having knocked many doors and gotten money off a lot of people. Fundraising for Karuna is humbling, we can only work with where we are at. Tonight I realise I'm still self-sabotaging, but that's ok, I'm working on it, it's a practice, a spiritual practice.
I call back to a couple of women, one of them called Harriet invites me in. We chat for around half an hour, and finally she says that she'd like to make a donation but she's not sure about a standing order. She's retired and feels that she can't afford it. She really likes our charity though and wants to give. We explore it some more and I ask her to help me. I suggest she takes some more time to think about what amount she could regularly give the charity, and what the charity can do with a regular amount from her, that we can't do with a donation. I also thank her for offering her donation, and reassure her that if she decides to do this then that is great. But, I challenge her some more to think about what she will get in return if she gives a little more. I feel like our relationship on this issue is down to trust, and essentially I'm asking her to trust me, and see how it might feel to give a little more. I leave the form with her, and make an appointment to go back and pick it up.
Another woman comes to her door, same story again, she really wants to support us but can't afford £10 per month, she wants to talk to her husband and daughter about it. Will I accept a donation tonight? I acknowledge her kind offer and again explain why a regular amount would be better for the charity and better for me, and I ask her in what way it might be better for her?She says she saw a colleague of mine many years ago and they knocked on her door, she can't remember why she didn't sign up then, because she really likes our charity. I wonder inside why she is thinking of passing up the opportunity again. I decide to help her out and see if she can change her mind and follow through on wanting to give us a regular amount.
I am asking her to help the people in India, and asking her to have a think about what that will feel like for her. She is very motivated and open about what we are doing in India, so again I ask her to have more of a think about it. I leave her the form, she says she'll fill it in and send it back to us. I am wise to this gatekeeper - I explain to her in a good humoured but serious way that I fear what will happen is that she'll take the form full of her good intentions which I'm seeing tonight, and that, like others have done before, she will not fill it in because life has a habit of intervening. I explain to her that if I call back that will make it more likely that she'll do it and then she'll have the satisfaction of knowing that she is giving to the charity and she has acted on her intentions. She agrees with me, and gives me a relieved smile and we make a date for next week.
I do not know if either of these women will give me their completed standing order forms, but tonight I feel like I've done everything I could possibly do to acknowledge their concerns, build trust, stay open to possibilities and offer suggestions. I also feel like I've asked them for their help and listened to them saying no, and then turned them around to consider that maybe they are not saying no to a standing order afterall. I feel more at my edge than I have before, and also I know that for today I have done all that I can, and that ultimately more patience may well be required when I visit them again, and also that I must let go of the outcome for today.
Today I faced some of my demons, and tried to tame them. Access to the mandala and the big pot of gold seems closer and more tangible than it did before.
Monday, June 23, 2008
The magic of rebirth
The weekend passes by in a flash. On Sunday the team spends time with Jayachitta doing some movement and dance. I arrive late, and can feel my resistance. The first exercise she has us doing is throwing balls around the room and catching them. I immediately feel my resistance drop. Catching is one of my specialities and my enjoyment of the day just flows from there. The second exercise involves suggestions of areas of the body to focus on in movement. I let the music in. I curl up in a ball and want to hide. Slowly but surely I allow my body to begin moving, and I love the freedom that comes from being able to move in whatever way I want, and being able to hide and curl up in a ball whenever I want. I experience resistance when she asks us to focus on movement in our wrists. My wrists go limp and attempt a "door knocking" movement, my head says to itself "I never want to knock on anyone's door ever again..." I enjoy playing with the resistance and the fact that I can be so half-hearted in the movement of knocking on doors with my wrists in mid air.
I feel much more grounded in my body as a result of the workshop. We have been doing a lot of talking and communicating on this appeal, and for once, it is lovely to contact the earth and be in a space without words. I lap it up.
My grandmother died the day before, Saturday, the day of the Summer Solstice. I feel that the day signifies a time for things coming to fruition and also a time of change and new beginnings. I think about my grandmother's rebirth. Something that has come in for me very strongly during this period of waiting to hear of her death is a feeling that there is a transitionary process around death, and that there is clearly a bardo, a space between life and death, and that I feel all I can do is wish her well for the time she travels in this dimension. I feel as if my part is to be there in this world, in my body, and wish her well in her transition. I have been consciously cultivating karuna or compassion, and metta or loving kindness for her during my meditations and at other times. The day of her death we light a candle for her, and Vajrasattva appears and I silently say his mantras over and over in my mind. Today the team brings her to mind in our team metta practice in the afternoon and we wish her well in the bardo.
When I woke this morning it was as if something had shifted in my heart. Some of the communication and conversations I had with Akasavajri this weekend just resonated deeply within my heart and touched me on many different levels of my being. I realise that I feel full of warmth, love, contentment and confidence. I go out door knocking in the evening from this place. My fear feels small tonight, and I'm able to hold it like a microdot on a TV screen background that is somehow much larger and full of other emotions and feelings.
Every door I knock on people seem open and present with me, I leave a lot of booklets with a lot of lovely people. Even when people say "no" it is as if they are really present with me and they wish me well. I allow myself the thought that perhaps it is because I am being able to be really present with them. I notice that I am "in the zone", where I feel truly open and practically glide down the pathways to the doorsteps. I have no fear as I wait for the householders, I feel quietly confident and able to sense this flowing universe around and inside of me. Even when fear comes, somehow I'm able to greet it and it does not get in the way of my wish to connect.
I call back to a guy that I'd left a standing order form with early last week. I have been patient, and been to see him on four occasions. On one occasion last week, his daughter who is one and half years old was really ill, and I connected with the sadness and suffering in her eyes, and reached out to her and wished her well. On the next occasion that I go she is feeling much better and she says goodbye to me and her eyes beam. They say that you can never count on a standing order until it's firmly tucked away in your bag. Tonight, my first standing order of the appeal is, after a week and a half of door knocking, firmly tucked away inside my bag. It feels great to break my "duck", and also have such a great evening and day full of connection. When you have days like this on appeal it is as if the world is shining back at you and in the reflection you are able to contact love, warmth and connection, and feel truly alive. There is no other feeling like it and I feel truly able to be present with this feeling of aliveness and wellbeing. The day feels golden to me.
I feel much more grounded in my body as a result of the workshop. We have been doing a lot of talking and communicating on this appeal, and for once, it is lovely to contact the earth and be in a space without words. I lap it up.
My grandmother died the day before, Saturday, the day of the Summer Solstice. I feel that the day signifies a time for things coming to fruition and also a time of change and new beginnings. I think about my grandmother's rebirth. Something that has come in for me very strongly during this period of waiting to hear of her death is a feeling that there is a transitionary process around death, and that there is clearly a bardo, a space between life and death, and that I feel all I can do is wish her well for the time she travels in this dimension. I feel as if my part is to be there in this world, in my body, and wish her well in her transition. I have been consciously cultivating karuna or compassion, and metta or loving kindness for her during my meditations and at other times. The day of her death we light a candle for her, and Vajrasattva appears and I silently say his mantras over and over in my mind. Today the team brings her to mind in our team metta practice in the afternoon and we wish her well in the bardo.
When I woke this morning it was as if something had shifted in my heart. Some of the communication and conversations I had with Akasavajri this weekend just resonated deeply within my heart and touched me on many different levels of my being. I realise that I feel full of warmth, love, contentment and confidence. I go out door knocking in the evening from this place. My fear feels small tonight, and I'm able to hold it like a microdot on a TV screen background that is somehow much larger and full of other emotions and feelings.
Every door I knock on people seem open and present with me, I leave a lot of booklets with a lot of lovely people. Even when people say "no" it is as if they are really present with me and they wish me well. I allow myself the thought that perhaps it is because I am being able to be really present with them. I notice that I am "in the zone", where I feel truly open and practically glide down the pathways to the doorsteps. I have no fear as I wait for the householders, I feel quietly confident and able to sense this flowing universe around and inside of me. Even when fear comes, somehow I'm able to greet it and it does not get in the way of my wish to connect.
I call back to a guy that I'd left a standing order form with early last week. I have been patient, and been to see him on four occasions. On one occasion last week, his daughter who is one and half years old was really ill, and I connected with the sadness and suffering in her eyes, and reached out to her and wished her well. On the next occasion that I go she is feeling much better and she says goodbye to me and her eyes beam. They say that you can never count on a standing order until it's firmly tucked away in your bag. Tonight, my first standing order of the appeal is, after a week and a half of door knocking, firmly tucked away inside my bag. It feels great to break my "duck", and also have such a great evening and day full of connection. When you have days like this on appeal it is as if the world is shining back at you and in the reflection you are able to contact love, warmth and connection, and feel truly alive. There is no other feeling like it and I feel truly able to be present with this feeling of aliveness and wellbeing. The day feels golden to me.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Being patient and kind
We do some training with Jo. It is about checking in with ourselves and where we are at. One of the questions is about what I am learning about right now. My list flows, and I realise my edge is all about deepening connections with the householders. I want to be a good friend to the strangers I meet, and be in friendly relationship with myself. I want to be patient and kind, nuture these relationships. When I think about where I want to get to as a result of deepening my practice of fundraising in a buddhist context I think about wanting to move towards being more outgoing and confident. I can see myself in a couple of weeks time being able to embody the lover archetype more, cultivating loving, outgoing energy.
I also have this sense that the way through into this, my door, is about being more open and vulnerable and allowing the householder to see me more, being less one dimensional. I also realise I am open to making lots of money if it is the universe's will for me. I breathe, sleep, and go off to meditate before going out and trying to embody love and friendship on the doors.
I also have this sense that the way through into this, my door, is about being more open and vulnerable and allowing the householder to see me more, being less one dimensional. I also realise I am open to making lots of money if it is the universe's will for me. I breathe, sleep, and go off to meditate before going out and trying to embody love and friendship on the doors.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
The noble queen and the boundless sky
At long last, a day off. I spend most of it with Akasavajri, enjoying time to call my own. We talk a little bit more about the future. We both contact our fears and have a go at voicing them to each other. I am encouraged by this process and somehow rather than keep fear locked away, I feel we've given fear a chance to breathe. What follows from this is the unfolding of a space for love and faith to emerge between us and have a go at breathing too.
When I return home to the community, Abhilasa welcomes me as if I am a stately queen that has been thrown a returning home party. I feel like a queen as I contact the warmth and friendship that our appeal team has already managed to cultivate between us. I feel grateful for this, it makes so much difference when I'm getting ready in the evenings to go out on the doors, and also when I'm actually out there, knowing that they are too.
Before we head out I find myself expressing my resistance again. Abhilasa gathers us all around and we do a couple of visualisations, and then we do the "Earth Goddess" ritual. We stand in a circle around each other, one person in the centre, and we contact the earth energy then scoop it up with both hands and heap it on the person in the middle. We do this and take turns in the middle and at the end we all feel refreshed, full of energy, earthed and bonded as a group. Paddy says that now he feels like a complete hippy. We giggle at him, and I ask everyone for a group hug. We do this, and now it is confirmed we are all hippies. Naomi later remarks that we're like this Benetton advert doing hippy things together, diverse bunch that we are. We are still struggling to find a name for our appeal - something that bonds us together, we decide to sleep on it.
I walk down a "rich street" in Kentish Town. The first householder tries to swot me away like a fly or a lowly servant. I am a match for him though, having had training with Khemajala yesterday on "matching energy" - I match him and our conversation almost has a flavour of confrontation. Without knowing how he managed it the householder takes a booklet from me, and I agree to go back and see him next week. When I return to the pavement, I realise that this street is going to have the energy of the financially rich on it, who are sometimes very adept at dismissing door to door fundraisers. I steel myself, hold myself up straight, head held high, contact the noble queen in me, and think of Vandanajyoti and how she would fundraise this street. I set off on my noble quest. It goes pretty well. I decide to try wearing a smart shirt tomorrow in order to feel more the part.
When I get home there are drinks, crisps and a large chocolate cake on the table. Stevie Wonder is playing in the background, and Abhilasa is playing host for Adarsha's birthday party. Naomi has baked a cake which is gluten free and vegan (such are our team's dietary restrictions). The cake looks and tastes amazing, Paddy says it's the best he's ever tasted. We sing happy birthday, Paddy puts on his red dress and we dance to the tunes, and generally have a good old giggle. We draw pictures on our scoreboard and try to make it look creative and inviting, none of us got any standing orders tonight. Patience appears to be the name of the game. Khemajala and Adarsha remark that whenever they see us we always look like we're having this amazingly good time together, even though we're on appeal. We all grin and don't quite know how to answer that.
When I return home to the community, Abhilasa welcomes me as if I am a stately queen that has been thrown a returning home party. I feel like a queen as I contact the warmth and friendship that our appeal team has already managed to cultivate between us. I feel grateful for this, it makes so much difference when I'm getting ready in the evenings to go out on the doors, and also when I'm actually out there, knowing that they are too.
Before we head out I find myself expressing my resistance again. Abhilasa gathers us all around and we do a couple of visualisations, and then we do the "Earth Goddess" ritual. We stand in a circle around each other, one person in the centre, and we contact the earth energy then scoop it up with both hands and heap it on the person in the middle. We do this and take turns in the middle and at the end we all feel refreshed, full of energy, earthed and bonded as a group. Paddy says that now he feels like a complete hippy. We giggle at him, and I ask everyone for a group hug. We do this, and now it is confirmed we are all hippies. Naomi later remarks that we're like this Benetton advert doing hippy things together, diverse bunch that we are. We are still struggling to find a name for our appeal - something that bonds us together, we decide to sleep on it.
I walk down a "rich street" in Kentish Town. The first householder tries to swot me away like a fly or a lowly servant. I am a match for him though, having had training with Khemajala yesterday on "matching energy" - I match him and our conversation almost has a flavour of confrontation. Without knowing how he managed it the householder takes a booklet from me, and I agree to go back and see him next week. When I return to the pavement, I realise that this street is going to have the energy of the financially rich on it, who are sometimes very adept at dismissing door to door fundraisers. I steel myself, hold myself up straight, head held high, contact the noble queen in me, and think of Vandanajyoti and how she would fundraise this street. I set off on my noble quest. It goes pretty well. I decide to try wearing a smart shirt tomorrow in order to feel more the part.
When I get home there are drinks, crisps and a large chocolate cake on the table. Stevie Wonder is playing in the background, and Abhilasa is playing host for Adarsha's birthday party. Naomi has baked a cake which is gluten free and vegan (such are our team's dietary restrictions). The cake looks and tastes amazing, Paddy says it's the best he's ever tasted. We sing happy birthday, Paddy puts on his red dress and we dance to the tunes, and generally have a good old giggle. We draw pictures on our scoreboard and try to make it look creative and inviting, none of us got any standing orders tonight. Patience appears to be the name of the game. Khemajala and Adarsha remark that whenever they see us we always look like we're having this amazingly good time together, even though we're on appeal. We all grin and don't quite know how to answer that.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
I see you Mara
I see you Mara, I see you. I know you Mara, I know you. What have you brought for me today? An army full of beautiful maidens, adorned with jewels, long flowing locks, temptresses at my door. I'm not interested today, Mara, you go away and play with them. Ah, what have you brought now...some more doubt, some more insecurity, some more sadness. I see you feelings, I see you, I feel you feelings, I feel you. My feelings flow and wander back away with Mara. In the stillness I think I hear the nothingness reflected back at me.
Today I'm irritable, untrusting, fearful. I am bare as the day I was born. I am the incredible hulk, Jo with a green mask, I want to rip it, tear it, scratch it to shreads. I want to let the light shine upon me, through me, from me. I want to love, without fear.
Everything that comes from outside I do not trust today, like I want to protect myself from everything and everyone. It is a painful way to be. It's like I can't give people the benefit of the doubt. My universe narrows. I sit in meditation trying to be with the emptiness. Trying to dwell, trying to dwell, trying...I surrender. I turn my mind to surrendering, make a decision to do it, I surrender again.
I am scared and can let it in more than I have ever been able to. I want my life to be neatly packaged like some toffed up avacado from Sainsbury's. Why do I yearn for packaging around me? I want everything to be safe and bright, and known. No feelings for me that I cannot control, no bad things to happen to me, no withering, no death, no end of me and mine. I cannot function in this much suffering, my mind contorts and I decide to get a hour's sleep.
Who knows what tonight will bring?
Today I'm irritable, untrusting, fearful. I am bare as the day I was born. I am the incredible hulk, Jo with a green mask, I want to rip it, tear it, scratch it to shreads. I want to let the light shine upon me, through me, from me. I want to love, without fear.
Everything that comes from outside I do not trust today, like I want to protect myself from everything and everyone. It is a painful way to be. It's like I can't give people the benefit of the doubt. My universe narrows. I sit in meditation trying to be with the emptiness. Trying to dwell, trying to dwell, trying...I surrender. I turn my mind to surrendering, make a decision to do it, I surrender again.
I am scared and can let it in more than I have ever been able to. I want my life to be neatly packaged like some toffed up avacado from Sainsbury's. Why do I yearn for packaging around me? I want everything to be safe and bright, and known. No feelings for me that I cannot control, no bad things to happen to me, no withering, no death, no end of me and mine. I cannot function in this much suffering, my mind contorts and I decide to get a hour's sleep.
Who knows what tonight will bring?
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Easing into the softness
"I really don't want to go out tonight, I really don't want to go out fundraising." I say to Paddy..."Don't ever do a second fundraising appeal" I giggle...Paddy has already mentioned he wants to do a second appeal and he's only a week into his first! This man has many special qualities I think to myself.
On my first appeal last year in Leeds, I just sort of pushed myself out of the door and went for it each night, afterall I had no experience and nothing to lose, every experience was a bonus, a building block. On my first appeal if I'd have entertained thoughts of really simply not wanting to go out there and been fully with my resistance then I probably would have cracked up and never gone out there again. Instead I just pushed my resistance to one side and got on my bike and cycled up those huge hills to get to where I was going. On this second appeal it is different. Because I'm slightly more confident in some ways, and I'm a bit more familiar with Karuna in a certain way, there seems more time to actually take in and be with my emotions and experience, and then move out in the world from there.
Tonight I experienced severe resistance to going out at all, and then my kind team mate Paddy said to me in response to my moaning..."Just take one step at a time...just get to your patch first and see how it goes from there". Good advice, Paddy, good advice I thought, and I got on my bike and went to my patch.
I sat and contacted the softness and the fear again. Slightly more practiced at sitting and contacting softness within me, I felt like my mask needed to slip once more and I needed to go out on the doors and just be Jo again, connecting and showing an interest in others lives. The fundraising agenda shelved once more, I set off to make some new friends.
My grandmother is seriously ill and we were told by the doctors last week that she wouldn't make it to this week. It is now Tuesday and she is still with us, but I feel that she slips in and out of consciousness all the time, and in a sense is fully in a bardo between life and death. I bring her to mind a lot today and let myself dwell on her positive qualities, and wish her well. My tenderness has come from feeling in a spin and all churned up knowing that these are her last days. I have an image that all that I want to do is sit in a monastery somewhere with other monks and nuns in robes, and chant mantras in low tones, and count mala beads, mindful of life, mindful of death, I am praying and honouring my grandmother's life.
The streets could not have been kinder to me tonight. What a contrast with yesterday. Today I roll up to people's doors, I have no agenda other than getting to know them. One woman looks ill, I say hello to her, and then, you're not looking so well. She has a headache, but she says she wants to know what I'm there for, and then, interested, she starts to connect with me. There is no door between us, we are simply there giving each other our time and attention. I move onto another door, a woman looks flustered and tired. I say, you're looking like you're in the middle of something that taking up a lot of your attention and effort. She is packing for a weekend break in Barcelona. She is knackered. She is also fascinated and interested in Karuna. Our connection runs like a role play in the best training session ever. I say something intriguing and inviting, she dances back with something equally passionate, she asks all the right questions, I relax and just be myself, we end up chatting for ages.
Two guys in the street are hanging out after their run. I wander over to them, something that yesterday I would have run a mile from. I wander over and talk to them about running. I did a 10K run in Victoria Park on Sunday, they are happy to talk about their running. We chat about what I'm doing, what charities they support, I ask them what they work as, what they're passionate about. They talk about charities they volunteer for, one is an HIV charity I know well. We are connecting beautifully, I tell them I love their street, they seem to know everyone on it, they love their street too. They both take booklets and tell me to call back, they'd like to support us. I wander some more on their street, a couple of guys watching the football at different doors I see through their windows. I ask them who's playing, it's France vs Italy. It's a big match, we talk about the football, they seem very open to talking about the charity, and their girlfriends, and what they're doing at the weekend.
It doesn't get any better than this I think, door knocking for Karuna. Everybody I saw tonight seemed to want to move towards me and all because I was softer, more interested in them and open to them than I'd ever been before. Everything changes, everything is impermanent, but tonight my night was sweet.
We put up our scoreboard today with our targets on it. It was a bit daunting, even though I knew it was coming. It brings up my competitive instincts which I can't decide if I like about myself or dislike. We all came home with nothing to write on our board tonight...not even any cash let alone standing orders. We've had a few standing orders and/or bits of cash every evening we've been here, but not tonight. We rejoice in the irony and the timing of our first fallow night with the scoreboard now in full view. It's our team secret in-joke for one night only.
I talk to my friend Kath later in the evening. She is brushing her teeth. She mumbles when she picks up her phone. I say, are you in the middle of eating, she says: "mmno, I'm busshing my teef", I think how lovely that she feels relaxed enough with me to speak to me with a mouthful of paste and spit. We decide I'll ring back in two minutes, I do and she allows me to tell her how fearful I've been of late, I tell her about the illness in my family, about a new relationship that is bringing love into my life, about changing jobs, and moving into the appeal community. She reminds me that that's a lot of change. She listens and witnesses my words, she suggests that I think about giving myself some more compassion, have I thought about being more compassionate to myself? I grin inwardedly, Kath is not a buddhist and to my knowledge does not know that much about Karuna, but inside this woman really knows all about buddhism and karuna I think to myself. I tell her I'm so grateful that she was able to be there for me this evening, and that we were able to connect. She wishes me well, and let's me know that I can call again anytime.
On my first appeal last year in Leeds, I just sort of pushed myself out of the door and went for it each night, afterall I had no experience and nothing to lose, every experience was a bonus, a building block. On my first appeal if I'd have entertained thoughts of really simply not wanting to go out there and been fully with my resistance then I probably would have cracked up and never gone out there again. Instead I just pushed my resistance to one side and got on my bike and cycled up those huge hills to get to where I was going. On this second appeal it is different. Because I'm slightly more confident in some ways, and I'm a bit more familiar with Karuna in a certain way, there seems more time to actually take in and be with my emotions and experience, and then move out in the world from there.
Tonight I experienced severe resistance to going out at all, and then my kind team mate Paddy said to me in response to my moaning..."Just take one step at a time...just get to your patch first and see how it goes from there". Good advice, Paddy, good advice I thought, and I got on my bike and went to my patch.
I sat and contacted the softness and the fear again. Slightly more practiced at sitting and contacting softness within me, I felt like my mask needed to slip once more and I needed to go out on the doors and just be Jo again, connecting and showing an interest in others lives. The fundraising agenda shelved once more, I set off to make some new friends.
My grandmother is seriously ill and we were told by the doctors last week that she wouldn't make it to this week. It is now Tuesday and she is still with us, but I feel that she slips in and out of consciousness all the time, and in a sense is fully in a bardo between life and death. I bring her to mind a lot today and let myself dwell on her positive qualities, and wish her well. My tenderness has come from feeling in a spin and all churned up knowing that these are her last days. I have an image that all that I want to do is sit in a monastery somewhere with other monks and nuns in robes, and chant mantras in low tones, and count mala beads, mindful of life, mindful of death, I am praying and honouring my grandmother's life.
The streets could not have been kinder to me tonight. What a contrast with yesterday. Today I roll up to people's doors, I have no agenda other than getting to know them. One woman looks ill, I say hello to her, and then, you're not looking so well. She has a headache, but she says she wants to know what I'm there for, and then, interested, she starts to connect with me. There is no door between us, we are simply there giving each other our time and attention. I move onto another door, a woman looks flustered and tired. I say, you're looking like you're in the middle of something that taking up a lot of your attention and effort. She is packing for a weekend break in Barcelona. She is knackered. She is also fascinated and interested in Karuna. Our connection runs like a role play in the best training session ever. I say something intriguing and inviting, she dances back with something equally passionate, she asks all the right questions, I relax and just be myself, we end up chatting for ages.
Two guys in the street are hanging out after their run. I wander over to them, something that yesterday I would have run a mile from. I wander over and talk to them about running. I did a 10K run in Victoria Park on Sunday, they are happy to talk about their running. We chat about what I'm doing, what charities they support, I ask them what they work as, what they're passionate about. They talk about charities they volunteer for, one is an HIV charity I know well. We are connecting beautifully, I tell them I love their street, they seem to know everyone on it, they love their street too. They both take booklets and tell me to call back, they'd like to support us. I wander some more on their street, a couple of guys watching the football at different doors I see through their windows. I ask them who's playing, it's France vs Italy. It's a big match, we talk about the football, they seem very open to talking about the charity, and their girlfriends, and what they're doing at the weekend.
It doesn't get any better than this I think, door knocking for Karuna. Everybody I saw tonight seemed to want to move towards me and all because I was softer, more interested in them and open to them than I'd ever been before. Everything changes, everything is impermanent, but tonight my night was sweet.
We put up our scoreboard today with our targets on it. It was a bit daunting, even though I knew it was coming. It brings up my competitive instincts which I can't decide if I like about myself or dislike. We all came home with nothing to write on our board tonight...not even any cash let alone standing orders. We've had a few standing orders and/or bits of cash every evening we've been here, but not tonight. We rejoice in the irony and the timing of our first fallow night with the scoreboard now in full view. It's our team secret in-joke for one night only.
I talk to my friend Kath later in the evening. She is brushing her teeth. She mumbles when she picks up her phone. I say, are you in the middle of eating, she says: "mmno, I'm busshing my teef", I think how lovely that she feels relaxed enough with me to speak to me with a mouthful of paste and spit. We decide I'll ring back in two minutes, I do and she allows me to tell her how fearful I've been of late, I tell her about the illness in my family, about a new relationship that is bringing love into my life, about changing jobs, and moving into the appeal community. She reminds me that that's a lot of change. She listens and witnesses my words, she suggests that I think about giving myself some more compassion, have I thought about being more compassionate to myself? I grin inwardedly, Kath is not a buddhist and to my knowledge does not know that much about Karuna, but inside this woman really knows all about buddhism and karuna I think to myself. I tell her I'm so grateful that she was able to be there for me this evening, and that we were able to connect. She wishes me well, and let's me know that I can call again anytime.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Fears and rain
Red poppies and green stalks,
Blue bibles and champagne
These things go together
Like my fears and the rain
I walk down the street with my good friend, Santavajri. She has kindly offered to come out door knocking with me for the evening and give me feedback and support about how I am doing with it. I am happy to be with such a kind friend, and I know instantly that I can be myself with her. "How are you feeling?" she says to me. "Sad, vulnerable, scared". "Aha..." The way she says it I know that it is alright to be with her and that she will not wish my emotions away, in fact she will encourage me to be with them.
We walk down a street, I don't like it. It has lots of flats with high steps, I take an instant dislike to it. Later on down the street it looks a bit better, I decide I'm ready to start knocking on doors.
I ring a bell to a flat, an Indian woman opens her third floor window, she says something to me, I don't understand what it is. I try to talk to her, we don't connect, she sends her mother to the window, "No English, no English" - I say, "Oh, ok..." I feel a little silly that I didn't get the hang of that more quickly. I realise it takes me by surprise, and I feel slow and heavy-hearted tonight.
A few doors on and it's not going well, I realise that I am nervous and not liking my surroundings. Santavajri joins me in a bit and suggests we try the street further on. It's better, but tonight all the doors look like castles to me, and the gates feel like drawbridges firmly closed shut, the gardens and pathways feel like moats that swallow me up and I'm on the verge of drowning in them.
A man comes to the door, the dogs are going wild behind his door. "What is it Eric? What is it?" I hear from inside the house...someone sounds anxious. Eric comes to the door...he is very elderly and confused, suffering, and he shouts and points at me "close the gate, close the gate, it's the dogs, the gate!". I take my leave as he suggests.
Midway through the evening I check in with Santavajri. She has come with me to a few doors, witnessing my door knocking, fundraising and communication. I feel fear, sadness, vulnerability and grief within my belly. Santavajri suggests we walk down the street and I try to contact it some more. At the end of the street she suggests I stay in touch with it, drop my "Karuna business agenda" and just try to go to the doors and let the householders see me and all my sad vulnerability. I tell her it's the thing that I find least easy, but the thing that tonight I know I must take another step towards. She reminds me that fundraising is all about contacting how I am, and being with it, and then opening out from there. She tells me that I should forget about raising money and just try to take in others as human beings, some of whom might be sad and vulnerable tonight just like me. Just focus on trying to make the human connection. She leaves me and goes off to get tea, I'll join her later.
As I walk up the street towards the next doors some energy arises within me, the energy born of tenderness that I've been able to contact, and I feel closer to my vulnerability. I soften, let go, loosen my control over my "mask" that says: "I am in control, I am a fundraiser, I will make money". Tonight I practice just being Jo, Jo the human being that is sad and vulnerable and full of grief. It starts to rain, but I am there with it, no need to run and hide. I allow myself the practice of trying to let the householders see me as a human being. I try to let them in and see me, I feel more real.
It's just my fears and rain.
Blue bibles and champagne
These things go together
Like my fears and the rain
I walk down the street with my good friend, Santavajri. She has kindly offered to come out door knocking with me for the evening and give me feedback and support about how I am doing with it. I am happy to be with such a kind friend, and I know instantly that I can be myself with her. "How are you feeling?" she says to me. "Sad, vulnerable, scared". "Aha..." The way she says it I know that it is alright to be with her and that she will not wish my emotions away, in fact she will encourage me to be with them.
We walk down a street, I don't like it. It has lots of flats with high steps, I take an instant dislike to it. Later on down the street it looks a bit better, I decide I'm ready to start knocking on doors.
I ring a bell to a flat, an Indian woman opens her third floor window, she says something to me, I don't understand what it is. I try to talk to her, we don't connect, she sends her mother to the window, "No English, no English" - I say, "Oh, ok..." I feel a little silly that I didn't get the hang of that more quickly. I realise it takes me by surprise, and I feel slow and heavy-hearted tonight.
A few doors on and it's not going well, I realise that I am nervous and not liking my surroundings. Santavajri joins me in a bit and suggests we try the street further on. It's better, but tonight all the doors look like castles to me, and the gates feel like drawbridges firmly closed shut, the gardens and pathways feel like moats that swallow me up and I'm on the verge of drowning in them.
A man comes to the door, the dogs are going wild behind his door. "What is it Eric? What is it?" I hear from inside the house...someone sounds anxious. Eric comes to the door...he is very elderly and confused, suffering, and he shouts and points at me "close the gate, close the gate, it's the dogs, the gate!". I take my leave as he suggests.
Midway through the evening I check in with Santavajri. She has come with me to a few doors, witnessing my door knocking, fundraising and communication. I feel fear, sadness, vulnerability and grief within my belly. Santavajri suggests we walk down the street and I try to contact it some more. At the end of the street she suggests I stay in touch with it, drop my "Karuna business agenda" and just try to go to the doors and let the householders see me and all my sad vulnerability. I tell her it's the thing that I find least easy, but the thing that tonight I know I must take another step towards. She reminds me that fundraising is all about contacting how I am, and being with it, and then opening out from there. She tells me that I should forget about raising money and just try to take in others as human beings, some of whom might be sad and vulnerable tonight just like me. Just focus on trying to make the human connection. She leaves me and goes off to get tea, I'll join her later.
As I walk up the street towards the next doors some energy arises within me, the energy born of tenderness that I've been able to contact, and I feel closer to my vulnerability. I soften, let go, loosen my control over my "mask" that says: "I am in control, I am a fundraiser, I will make money". Tonight I practice just being Jo, Jo the human being that is sad and vulnerable and full of grief. It starts to rain, but I am there with it, no need to run and hide. I allow myself the practice of trying to let the householders see me as a human being. I try to let them in and see me, I feel more real.
It's just my fears and rain.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Cultivating passion
"Hi, I'm calling from a charity". "You best come in then, but I'm telling you now I'm not signing up for a standing order". I feel the warmth of the hallway and the house immediately, and realise that it is a little cold out there walking the streets. It is a familiar warmth to me, the warmth of being invited into someone's home, I am immediately grateful. My eyes scan the room, letters opened on the table, a work pass that says BBC on the counter. "Ah, you work for the BBC" "Yes", "what do you do there?" "I'm the World Services' Africa correspondent". Ah, I think, how interesting, we are going to get on well. "So, what do you want from me?" "Well, I'll tell you it straight there's no point in mucking around...I want a standing order...". I grin...he grins, "or a donation" I add, realising that this man is relatively rich and might give Karuna a big fat cheque.
"Right then, you best give me your pitch" "there is no pitch", we laugh. "But tell me, seriously, why are you different from all the rest of the charities out there, why should I give to you?". We talk about India, he's lived there for a year, he knows more about India than me, but I realise he's not asking me about India, he's asking me about why I feel passionately about Karuna. I relate my experience in the last ten years of working with people with HIV in the UK and other parts of the world, many of whom are from Africa. I say my interest is in discrimination and the "have nots" in our world. I say I'm a volunteer for Karuna, and I'm at the beginning of my journey of really trying to connect with the experience of the Dalits. I do it in the only way I know how, relate it to my experiences, and build links. I tell him that I trust Karuna because I know it's not easy to win the trust of marginalised people, it's not easy developing projects from scratch that are now run by Dalits for themselves. I say there's something creative and genuine in my experience of Karuna and what I know about it. He finds me very persuasive and tells me so. This is a compliment from this journalist who asks straight questions and I acknowledge it with as much grace as I can muster.
He tells me he had a Dalit cleaner when he lived in India. Tells me that the cook of the house said that if the cleaner was ever allowed in the kitchen of the house, she would resign as his cook. He tells me he hates Hinduism because it fosters this sense of when you're born you're screwed, you just have to put up with your lot. I don't know much about Hinduism, but I know that I believe that most religions are polluted and diluted by their contact with people on earth, that our societies have a huge influence on the way our religions are practiced. He nods and acknowledges viciferiously. We talk about conflict and Buddhism in Sri Lanka.
He talks about war and poverty, a bit about what he's seen. He wants to read me something, he says that it's about fighting and war so being a pacifist I might find it difficult. I give him a knowing look, and he understands I think that he comment is somewhat misplaced. He shows me a picture on the way out of two kids playing cricket outside a blurred Taj Mahal. He says he doesn't know what caste the kids are. Our eyes meet and we say goodbye.
He doesn't sign up. He says that I must trust him that he really will give something to Karuna, a one off donation in the future, but he acknowledges that he is saying that he can't help me now, with what I am doing tonight. As I type this I realise how much I enjoyed the warmth of his house, the opportunity to connect with another human being, and opportunity to talk with passion about my life and my connection with Karuna. I feel grateful for the opportunity to cultivate and develop my confidence and passion a little more. I have done the leg work on Karuna's behalf with him, and I must let go of the outcome around whether he will ever get around to giving Karuna any money.
"Right then, you best give me your pitch" "there is no pitch", we laugh. "But tell me, seriously, why are you different from all the rest of the charities out there, why should I give to you?". We talk about India, he's lived there for a year, he knows more about India than me, but I realise he's not asking me about India, he's asking me about why I feel passionately about Karuna. I relate my experience in the last ten years of working with people with HIV in the UK and other parts of the world, many of whom are from Africa. I say my interest is in discrimination and the "have nots" in our world. I say I'm a volunteer for Karuna, and I'm at the beginning of my journey of really trying to connect with the experience of the Dalits. I do it in the only way I know how, relate it to my experiences, and build links. I tell him that I trust Karuna because I know it's not easy to win the trust of marginalised people, it's not easy developing projects from scratch that are now run by Dalits for themselves. I say there's something creative and genuine in my experience of Karuna and what I know about it. He finds me very persuasive and tells me so. This is a compliment from this journalist who asks straight questions and I acknowledge it with as much grace as I can muster.
He tells me he had a Dalit cleaner when he lived in India. Tells me that the cook of the house said that if the cleaner was ever allowed in the kitchen of the house, she would resign as his cook. He tells me he hates Hinduism because it fosters this sense of when you're born you're screwed, you just have to put up with your lot. I don't know much about Hinduism, but I know that I believe that most religions are polluted and diluted by their contact with people on earth, that our societies have a huge influence on the way our religions are practiced. He nods and acknowledges viciferiously. We talk about conflict and Buddhism in Sri Lanka.
He talks about war and poverty, a bit about what he's seen. He wants to read me something, he says that it's about fighting and war so being a pacifist I might find it difficult. I give him a knowing look, and he understands I think that he comment is somewhat misplaced. He shows me a picture on the way out of two kids playing cricket outside a blurred Taj Mahal. He says he doesn't know what caste the kids are. Our eyes meet and we say goodbye.
He doesn't sign up. He says that I must trust him that he really will give something to Karuna, a one off donation in the future, but he acknowledges that he is saying that he can't help me now, with what I am doing tonight. As I type this I realise how much I enjoyed the warmth of his house, the opportunity to connect with another human being, and opportunity to talk with passion about my life and my connection with Karuna. I feel grateful for the opportunity to cultivate and develop my confidence and passion a little more. I have done the leg work on Karuna's behalf with him, and I must let go of the outcome around whether he will ever get around to giving Karuna any money.
Searching for the hero
I have a confession to make. There is a part of me that feels shameful about knocking on people's doors and asking them to talk to me and give me money. There you go I've said it. On the one hand, there is something heroic about walking these streets and knocking on strangers doors - it's not for everyone, so people say to me. On the other hand, the common images of people knocking on doors in our society are of people selling double glazing, pushy salesmen trying to rip people off or coerce people into buying stuff that they don't really need. What am I selling? myself? Karuna? people? love? connection? an opportunity? An opportunity to give and feel good about giving? I am selling something, but have I sold it to myself first? Do I feel that Karuna is an opportunity for me to give something, and feel good about giving it?
Shame kicks in, it's habitual for me, but these days I recognise it sometimes in a shot and I have ways of being with it and moving through it. What are my real motives for knocking on people's doors? Do I want to spread the dharma? Be creative? sometimes. Do I just want people's money? Why do I want people's money?
There is something deeply irrational about volunteering for a Karuna appeal...it has no logic to it whatsoever! Why would I want to go out there on the streets risking feelings of shame, humiliation, rejection, anger, - risking feelings of connection, openness, love, generosity, positivity. Sometimes I find the more positive feelings more difficult to open to. Take "Danny" that I met last night. I rang the doorbell, waited, waited some more, then walked onto the next house. I heard a window open, - hang on a sec, Danny peered down from three flights of stairs at me. He was a guy in his late 40s, he seemed soft. I craned my neck to see him. "Hi, I'm calling from a charity" "Oh, ok, which one?" "The Karuna Trust" - "Oh, the Karuna Trust, hang on a sec I'll come down". I felt instantly at home with Danny, so much so that I knew I should be sitting down on his wall when he came down, so that I could connect with my feeling of "at homeness", rather than standing waiting eagerly at his door.
Just before he opened the door I got up and when the door opened I asked him how he was, he asked me how I was, I said I was mid way through my evening, but having an ok evening. We chatted some more, he'd thought I said the Kerala Trust...he'd been to Goa...I've been to Kerala...we chatted some more. He knew about the Dalits, he didn't support any other charities, but would like to support ours. I wonder why it is that some people remain strangers to us and others we become firm friends with? It's a mystery. After my interaction with Danny I realised I was in no state to knock on another door straight away. The interaction was simply too lovely, too positive...it would phase me and I'd carry it and my expectations to the next door. It was time for my mid-evening break anyway, and there was something about my experience of Danny that I wanted to savour, mull over and delight in. I went to the pub and bought myself a cranberry juice. The football was on, I watched it from afar, and thought about the other side of the street I'd be knocking next.
As I was running around the park this morning, I bumped into a friend of mine, a woman called Lucy. It was a complete coincidence but she lives across the other side of the park. I turned around and we ran around together until she left at the other side to go to the gym. London is not as full of strangers as I thought. As I ran I thought of Padmasambhava, I listened to M People on my Ipod and thought about the heroic element of fundraising, and how to get in touch with the hero within me.
I thought, whenever I feel scared tonight, I will remember Padmasambhava's magic staff, and ask him to conjure it up to be held in my right arm as I knock on strangers doors, strangers who will hopefully become friends. For me the staff represents wisdom, love and courage, and desire to burn with these qualities from my heart's depths. I want to stand tall and proud with my flaming staff, a little bit of magic to make me remember my purpose. A heroic endeavour, just as my fellow human beings in India who make such good use of the money we raise, are also heroes, with their own battles to fight, their own love of life and of opportunity.
Shame kicks in, it's habitual for me, but these days I recognise it sometimes in a shot and I have ways of being with it and moving through it. What are my real motives for knocking on people's doors? Do I want to spread the dharma? Be creative? sometimes. Do I just want people's money? Why do I want people's money?
There is something deeply irrational about volunteering for a Karuna appeal...it has no logic to it whatsoever! Why would I want to go out there on the streets risking feelings of shame, humiliation, rejection, anger, - risking feelings of connection, openness, love, generosity, positivity. Sometimes I find the more positive feelings more difficult to open to. Take "Danny" that I met last night. I rang the doorbell, waited, waited some more, then walked onto the next house. I heard a window open, - hang on a sec, Danny peered down from three flights of stairs at me. He was a guy in his late 40s, he seemed soft. I craned my neck to see him. "Hi, I'm calling from a charity" "Oh, ok, which one?" "The Karuna Trust" - "Oh, the Karuna Trust, hang on a sec I'll come down". I felt instantly at home with Danny, so much so that I knew I should be sitting down on his wall when he came down, so that I could connect with my feeling of "at homeness", rather than standing waiting eagerly at his door.
Just before he opened the door I got up and when the door opened I asked him how he was, he asked me how I was, I said I was mid way through my evening, but having an ok evening. We chatted some more, he'd thought I said the Kerala Trust...he'd been to Goa...I've been to Kerala...we chatted some more. He knew about the Dalits, he didn't support any other charities, but would like to support ours. I wonder why it is that some people remain strangers to us and others we become firm friends with? It's a mystery. After my interaction with Danny I realised I was in no state to knock on another door straight away. The interaction was simply too lovely, too positive...it would phase me and I'd carry it and my expectations to the next door. It was time for my mid-evening break anyway, and there was something about my experience of Danny that I wanted to savour, mull over and delight in. I went to the pub and bought myself a cranberry juice. The football was on, I watched it from afar, and thought about the other side of the street I'd be knocking next.
As I was running around the park this morning, I bumped into a friend of mine, a woman called Lucy. It was a complete coincidence but she lives across the other side of the park. I turned around and we ran around together until she left at the other side to go to the gym. London is not as full of strangers as I thought. As I ran I thought of Padmasambhava, I listened to M People on my Ipod and thought about the heroic element of fundraising, and how to get in touch with the hero within me.
I thought, whenever I feel scared tonight, I will remember Padmasambhava's magic staff, and ask him to conjure it up to be held in my right arm as I knock on strangers doors, strangers who will hopefully become friends. For me the staff represents wisdom, love and courage, and desire to burn with these qualities from my heart's depths. I want to stand tall and proud with my flaming staff, a little bit of magic to make me remember my purpose. A heroic endeavour, just as my fellow human beings in India who make such good use of the money we raise, are also heroes, with their own battles to fight, their own love of life and of opportunity.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Opening to what is there
My first night of door knocking is under my belt and so I feel somewhat relieved but also I can feel the nerves starting to build again. It is 2.15pm and we are having our afternoon break. At 4pm we will meditate in the shrine room before heading out once more.
I feel close to the sky up here in the eves of the house. The sky outside is dark and brooding, the air has picked up, wind circulating and revving like a motorbike at the traffic lights. It wants to rain but it is barely managing it. I wish it would, then I feel like I might let go of the tension within me...like the weather, I just want to break free, go beyond, purify myself and my intentions, flow through, relax and unwind.
The nerves hit me again, and I realise that this is how it is on appeal. Friendship, laughter, connection - good food - and other things, nerves, feeling scared, feeling vulnerable.
Yesterday Abhilasa suggested that we do a metta bhavana meditation each day before we go out, sending metta to ourselves; to each one of us on the team; our fundraising patches; the people in India; then expanding out to the world. I was feeling a bit scared about my streets on my patch (the same ones I'd fallen in love with the day before), and just this simple act of wishing the streets well and warm thoughts, and wishing the people out there living in those houses well made a huge difference to me yesterday.
Fundraising yesterday was fascinating, my first time for Karuna in over a year. There were some nos, some yes I'll take a booklet, and some people giving me cash. I feel pleased that I returned home with a nice crisp £20 note to put on the shrine. It felt important and a good omen that I was able to bring home some cash for the team on our first night out. I placed it next to Ratnasambhava who is at the foot of our shrine. Abhilasa asked us to imagine the £20 growing into tens of £20 notes and then there would be hundreds and thousands of them, all within this shrine room I joined in...It feels important for me to think about and see money visually alongside our shrine which has all our favourite buddhas on it, and beautiful things. It is a beautiful thing people wanting to give to Karuna, and I thank Madame Fournel of Healey Street in North London for her generosity last night.
I think about money some more, and then look out of the window again. Perhaps the rain is saving itself until later for when I'll be out in it...you never know what's going to happen do you...when you're out knocking on strangers doors...
I feel close to the sky up here in the eves of the house. The sky outside is dark and brooding, the air has picked up, wind circulating and revving like a motorbike at the traffic lights. It wants to rain but it is barely managing it. I wish it would, then I feel like I might let go of the tension within me...like the weather, I just want to break free, go beyond, purify myself and my intentions, flow through, relax and unwind.
The nerves hit me again, and I realise that this is how it is on appeal. Friendship, laughter, connection - good food - and other things, nerves, feeling scared, feeling vulnerable.
Yesterday Abhilasa suggested that we do a metta bhavana meditation each day before we go out, sending metta to ourselves; to each one of us on the team; our fundraising patches; the people in India; then expanding out to the world. I was feeling a bit scared about my streets on my patch (the same ones I'd fallen in love with the day before), and just this simple act of wishing the streets well and warm thoughts, and wishing the people out there living in those houses well made a huge difference to me yesterday.
Fundraising yesterday was fascinating, my first time for Karuna in over a year. There were some nos, some yes I'll take a booklet, and some people giving me cash. I feel pleased that I returned home with a nice crisp £20 note to put on the shrine. It felt important and a good omen that I was able to bring home some cash for the team on our first night out. I placed it next to Ratnasambhava who is at the foot of our shrine. Abhilasa asked us to imagine the £20 growing into tens of £20 notes and then there would be hundreds and thousands of them, all within this shrine room I joined in...It feels important for me to think about and see money visually alongside our shrine which has all our favourite buddhas on it, and beautiful things. It is a beautiful thing people wanting to give to Karuna, and I thank Madame Fournel of Healey Street in North London for her generosity last night.
I think about money some more, and then look out of the window again. Perhaps the rain is saving itself until later for when I'll be out in it...you never know what's going to happen do you...when you're out knocking on strangers doors...
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
