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.
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