Before I start my account I would like to share a problem I have in writing this at all. It may seem irrelevant at first, but the connections will become clear later, I hope.

I discuss the ministry course with sympathetic friends, and Annie, who was staying here till yesterday, on hearing of this writing project, said something like, "Oh, I suppose you'll knock something up in an hour the evening before it is due in". I replied that I probably would, but that that was the problem. I am quite good at “knocking up ” little bits of writing or essays, I quite enjoy it. I got straight A grades at A level with a minimum of work, and a reasonable degree with even less. I sort of know what is expected, what the examiner wants to hear, and I give it to them. It is a rather facile and superficial way of behaving, and it would be easy to do that here. Whether I can altogether avoid that I do not know, what I actually write would be virtually the same, it is just a question of whether I am really engaging in my subject, feeling and being open, or just going through the motions. Even as I write this I'm aware of a tendency to just write it, I'm distancing myself from it. There is a constant feeling of evasion in my life, as if I'm escaping from any real confrontation. This sort of awareness will come up when I relate my experiences of the mental health group.

So to the background. A friend of mine had been running a mental health group (on behalf of MIND - a national mental health charity in Britain) for some years, but had had to leave on the verge of a breakdown. This was mainly because a certain client had decided he wanted her job and had mounted a campaign against her and totally undermined her. Strangely, it was someone I knew well, he had stayed here for a while but it had ended disastrously with him threatening me and I lived in terror for some time. I would describe as an extremely clever and charming psychopath. So, she had to leave, there was no-one qualified to take over, and she asked me to do it on a semi-voluntary basis. It was o.k.ed by the trustees and I started work.

It was one day a week, and one evening. At first I was just worried about the practicals, getting there, opening up, making tea and coffee for everyone and cooking a meal. The latter was especially trying as the oven was inadequate and I never knew in advance how many people would turn up, between ten and twenty usually. There was once an angry complaint (correct) that the chips weren't done. Also I did not know everyone there and did not know who I could trust to help, various people gave advice and wanted to help, but it was initially easier to do everything myself. The person who had caused so much trouble was utterly charming, telling me how pleased he was I'd got the job and how we could work together. He'd totally convinced me, then five minutes later I'd stop and think "What the hell was all that about?" I had to be very much on my guard and keep a lot of thoughts to myself. I found this difficult (still do!!) as I could see alliances being made and insidious power bases being formed.

There was also a woman there that I was quite attracted to but she idolised the aforementioned villain and was sleeping with him on and off, and that made me very angry. I'd actually forgotten all about that until now, but I was fuming at the time. Now I'm trying to stop laughing so I can continue writing. Why do I find it so funny now? I used to think a certain black humour about myself was a saving grace, now I'm not so sure that it isn't another trap. Trying now to go back to the feelings I had then …………………………

No, I think my amusement is an appropriate response, I don't feel I could have altered the situation or changed my feelings. It is only a pity that I can't see the amusing side of situations sooner instead of getting caught up in things I cannot change. That would, I think, lead to a lot more non-attachment.

There was another encounter which I have actually thought about a great deal in connection with this assignment. There was an Indian woman going to the group, I think she was a Ugandan Asian, one of the refugees from Idi Amin, probably a bit older than me. She'd always arrive early and sit in the corner in silence doing embroidery, never speaking to anyone. I'd probably felt somewhat dismissive towards her because of her manner but one day I asked her the usual "How are you S.?" and she really opened up, telling me her life history. She had a first class honours degree in botany from London University, but had suffered a nervous breakdown afterwards and been on heavy medication for thirty years. I never found out why, what had happened to her and I don't think I tried. I was scared of closeness. There may have been good reasons for that, I mean if she was really attracted to me or overly dependent it would have been awkward to say the least, and I was certainly the only person she spoke to for the 3 months or so that I was there. But I can't help feeling that I failed her.

God, it's so bloody difficult sometimes. So often in the past I've befriended someone with difficulties and then felt stuck with them, ending up really resenting them. Earlier I was saying how I was laughing about my difficulties in one situation, now I am actually in tears. Well, at least my fears of not connecting to my subject were unfounded.

I'll stop for a bit. I want to go outside and render the chimneys but it is still chucking it down with rain. Right, a cup of tea and baked beans on toast and I'm composed again …., the Indian woman. I still see her sometimes, usually walking down the long hill that leads into the town near here. Always on her own (though she in fact lives with her sister who seems outward and well adjusted). She's always looking down at the ground in front of her and we pass without acknowledging each other. I just would not know what to say.

And how does all this relate to the “bodhisattva ideal in the contemporary world ”? O.K. I can see why David sets a theme like that, but I really have difficulty with the bodhisattva concept. It's a koan that doesn't have a logical answer, or at least can't be answered in the way I expect. If I seriously thought that anything I did had anything to do with being a bodhisattva I think I'd be in deep trouble. This is the way I see it now, so I'll try to look at it in a more theoretical way first.

Is it something that one can work at consciously? I'd say a bodhisattva is someone who is simply there for all beings – this is just a personal definition which may change – but in being there for all beings is not aware of it him/her self. Maybe that's wrong, but if one starts saying that one is being a bodhisattva it strikes me that that implies a great deal of egotism that negates the statement itself. Maybe I'm wrong. We would probably all consider the Dalai Lama as being close to being a bodhisattva. I think he's made a few mistakes, but I'd certainly go along with the definition to a large extent. So how aware is he of being a bodhisattva? The thing about him that impresses me most is his ordinariness, his humility. If I look at the two men I know personally who I consider well on the way to being bodhisattvas, Zen master Hogen and Douglas Harding, they both seem quite unaware of the effect they have, especially Hogen. They are very different personalities, but I am trying to see the common ground that motivates both. There is a phrase in Zen “choiceless awareness ” that comes to mind. They perhaps have little choice in the essential way they act, although both, like Amida, are deeply concerned with the world and showing an alternative way of being.

The essential, I think, is to know oneself at a very deep level, or to know who one isn't. A deep compassion will then arise as one identifies on a very basic experiential level with all beings. It is not sympathy, when there is a them and me, but a much more complete identification, hard to put into words. Like when the narrator in the song “Douglas Traherne Harding ” comes back to the marketplace after a period of alienation and sees all the people “and sees that their faces are none but his own ”. “One light, light that is one though the lamps be many ”. It involves a real dropping of self and ego, otherwise we just get those awful do-gooders who we've probably all met in Christianity and Buddhism who just do good to serve their own egos, and are often the most unpleasant of people. But they still have that light within them. It's difficult, as one can only talk in symbols to describe things.

On a practical level, I suppose, really it just comes down to the Buddhist training. Being aware. Periods of meditation, keeping precepts as far as one can, going deeply into things, letting go. If one does this enough, the answers will arise naturally, I think. This does not entirely help with the problem I described with the Indian lady or others when I've been in similar situations, but I think I also have to acknowledge that I am very inadequate in many ways and be aware of those limitations. I might get great transcendent insights, which are very valuable and valid at times, but most of the time I'm pretty confused.

Fear is another one – fear of getting out of my depth, being in a situation I cannot control, fear of looking stupid. There's a sort of negative self consciousness about most of us, I think. I used to think that we had to "love the self", be totally unaware of ourselves, but now I think we can be aware of self but in a much more healthy way, aware of our own needs and limitations. Not knowing those sorts of boundaries is a problem for me. I remember Douglas once talking about sunnyata, emptiness, no self and then ending with the statement “but I still pick out the best potatoes at the supermarket ”. A lot of my thinking has been a self denial, whereas in fact I think we do have to look after ourselves, and, paradoxically, what is really good for ourselves will also be good for other people. If someone is really irritating for me my tendency is to make allowances, ignore it, but in fact it could be that their behaviour is quite unreasonable (whatever that is) and it is in their interests as well for me to say something.

This would apply to other situations as well. I should not fear to get involved. If there was too much need for dependence from another person I should have the courage to say so.

If all this sounds a bit confused, it is because I do feel rather confused. The Dalai Lama has sometimes reduced the whole of Buddhism to something like “having a good heart ” and I suppose the development of that is really what the bodhisattva path is about. Being there, being open to everyone. I remember once going to see Zen master Hogen-san for dokusan when I was in a rather bad state. Usually I'd bow, say my piece, and he'd ring the bell for me to leave. On this occasion I didn't want to bother him with my troubles, so I talked more abstractly. He just kept looking at me and not ringing the bell. It seemed to go on for ages with him just watching me in silence so in the end I said I was upset and told him why. He just said, "Ah, now I understand, now I understand" and after a moment he rang the bell, I left. The point is, I knew he really did understand, there was nothing else to say, but two minds had really met.

That sort of understanding, and the power to convey it, can usually only come after many years of practice. It certainly does not have to be specifically Buddhist practice or even “religious ” at all – Douglas had his great opening before he became interested in religion or Zen to any extent, but a kind of absolute honesty and preparedness to investigate the nature of ourselves and the world around us seem to be essential, and it is only then that wisdom and compassion can arise and a bodhisattva can be born.

I think that's all I can say at the moment. I don't want to make this too formal or perfect – I struggle with thoughts and feelings sometimes and am happy if that is reflected in what I write. And the conclusions, if any, that I do reach are always subject to change, which is perhaps as it should be. I feel quite exhausted now, so if I have learned anything by this or said anything relevant I'll just forget it and throw it to the winds for the benefit ……….

G.I. Finley
November 2000