Indras Net Summer 2012

Indra’s NetJournal of the Network of Engaged Buddhists

Issue 52 - Summer 2012 - ISSN: 1468 1552

Environment

4 Finding ways to kneeland kiss the ground- Brigid Avison reflects on a day retreatexploring onnectionand disconnection

10 The trapped lamb- Kamalamani reflectson Ecodharma

14 There is no ‘f’ inenvironment - VenerableAmaranatho describeshis search for a lifelived in harmony

18 Camus, Santideva,Marx: ‘EngagedBuddhism’ andPolitics- Richard Winternegotiates paradoxthrough parallels

21 What is EngagedBuddhism? by Ken Jones- A review by Zara Rizvi

24 The Unspoken by Ken Jones

25 The 14th SummerWorkshop Retreat ofthe Network ofEngaged Buddhists- 30th Aug to 3rd Sept2012 at Eaglehurst,Chagford, Devon

27 More about NEB

2 Indra’s Net - the Journal of the Network of Engaged Buddhists

About the Network of Engaged Buddhists

UK Network of Engaged BuddhistsEngaged Buddhism

combines the cultivation

of inner peace with

active social compassion

in a mutually supportive

and enriching practice.

The network aims to be:

A discussion forum for the development

of engaged Buddhism, and a contact

point about it.

A support group for anyone who is trying

to combine social engagement with

spiritual practice.

A channel for organising and publicising

appropriate action in line with Dharmic

principles.

NEB membership

NEB annual membership costs £15 or

£10 for people on a low income. Please

send a cheque, along with your name,

postal address and email address, to the

Membership Secretary (address below).

Please make the cheque payable to

‘Network of Engaged Buddhists’.

Treasurer & Membership Secretary:

Melissa Meek

Parkers Flat 2

Market Place

Castle Cary

Somerset

BA7 7AG

Edited by Maitrisara & Brigid Avison

Designed by Stig (www.shtig.net)

Cover Photo (c) Christine Elliott

Published by the

Network of Engaged Buddhists

Printed digitally on 80% recycled paper

by Parchment Press, Oxford.

Indra’s Net

Indra’s Net is a metaphor

for interbeing which is

greater than mere

independence. At each

intersection of the net is a

light reflecting jewel. Each

and all exist only in their mutuality.

The magazine is not just for card

carrying Buddhists - rather it aims to

challenge and encourage all, whatever

faith they belong to, who share the

Network of Engaged Buddhists’ belief that

there needs to be an integration between

spiritual and social concerns.

The articles represent the views of the

authors and not necessarily those of the

Network of Engaged Buddhists.

For more details on the Network of

Engaged Buddhists, including regional

contacts, please see page 23.

Further information, including a

membership application form, can be

found on our website:

www.engagedbuddhists.org.uk

3Issue 52 - Summer 2012 - www.engagedbuddhists.org.uk

Editorial

Alienation is perhaps the

most deep rooted spiritual

obstacle. Alienation from

people, alienation from

other species, alienation

from the natural world. It is

a deeply painful state,

feeling marooned

somewhere inside your own

personal prison of self

reference – too fearful of

what engagement with

“other” might mean. Unable

to take any more bruising,

you can't risk it.

Sometimes suddenly, sometimes slowly

– a wish to re-connect emerges from within

yourself. If you can manage to keep

yourself company from deep within the

sense of alienation, a doorway might be

found. Sometimes, something or someone

touches you. Sometimes a person can – the

open heartedness of communication with a

stranger in a city. Sometimes, the

reaquaintance with the rhythm of the

natural world – cycles of light and dark,

warmth and cold, the vegetation, the

elements, non human life wakes you up to

the possibility that you are not lost, the

possibility of belonging.

This issue of Indra's Net explores the

possibility of how relationship with nature,

with the beyond-human world can bring

us the perspective of connection.

Brigid Avison gives an account of the

motivations for a day retreat called Wild

and Precious held at Charlbury in

Oxfordshire.

Dear readers

Disappointed by the

polarised atmosphere

whipped up at a national

rally on climate change,

Ally and Brigid planned a

day retreat to honour a

more congruent response to

our relationship with nature

and the suffering world.

Describing how the day

unfolded, they introduced

an intriguing listening /

speaking exercise in pairs

where the themes were

‘What is your experience of

disconnection?’ and ‘Tell me about

belonging’.

Kamalamani explores the meaning of

the term EcoDharma and picks up the

theme of how the Dharma might help us

heal our disconnection from “our more

earth-touching nature and our innate

knowledge that we, too, are creatures

made of the same stuff we see mirrored in

the world around us.” And you get to find

out whether the lamb made it!

Amaranatho explores his experience

living a monastic life and the environment

that supports his spiritual practice.

Richard Winter reflects on the

juxtaposition of our acceptance of our

limitations and the striving towards our

ideals – and whether by contextualising

our efforts within a wider social analysis,

the inconsistency between action and

vision is made greater sense of.

Maitrisara, Editor

Photo: (cc) Roswitha Siedelberg


Connection and disconnection

Finding ways

to kneel and

kiss the groundBrigid Avison reflects on a day

retreat exploring connection

and disconnection

In early May 2012, Ally Stott and I held a

day retreat in the Cotswold town of

Charlbury titled ‘Wild & Precious:

reconnecting mindfully with our natural

being’, during which we invited people to

explore their relationship with nature, and

their own sense of being, through a mix of

mindfulness and inquiry practices

including a walk of awareness. We took

the title from a poem by Mary Oliver, ‘The

Summer Day’, in which she describes a

day spend strolling through the fields,

observing with a childlike wonder what

she sees.

Tell me, what else should I have done?

Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?

Tell me, what is it you plan to do

with your one wild and precious life?

The genesis of the dayThe idea for this ‘Wild & Precious’ retreat

grew out of our experience of the

December 2011 Climate Justice march in

London. Before the march, we gathered

outside Tate Modern with other Buddhists

from a range of practice traditions to share

reflections and a meditation led by Kirsten

Kratz (a teacher at Gaia House, and

facilitator with Sanghaseva).

March for Climate Justice Photo: (cc) AdelaNistora / Campaign against Climate Change

There was space for the voicing of

personal intentions for the day, and a real

sense of honouring our own and each

other’s heart responses. We then walked

over the river to join the back of the march.

The atmosphere was peaceful, friendly and

focused.

By contrast, the concluding rally

opposite the Houses of Parliament seemed

more characterised by frustration,

irritability and divisiveness, with several

speakers resorting to pantomime-style

invitations to boo and hiss particular

‘villains’ (individual and corporate), and

cheer ‘heroes’. At one point, there was a

bad-tempered confrontation between the

rally’s main spokesman and a would-be

speaker who had seized the microphone.



The size of the rally was quite small,

Parliament was not sitting, and the

polarisation into ‘us (goodies)’ and ‘them

(baddies)’seemed to me a

desperate attempt to raise the

energy for action to counter a

disheartening sense of being

unheard, marginalised.

I felt torn between

wishing to show support

and gratitude for the speakers

and organisers, as well as other

marchers, for giving so much of

their time and energy to lobbying for

effective responses to global warming and

environmental degradation, while feeling

increasingly uneasy about some of the

means being employed. On the train back

to Oxford, Ally and I shared our concerns;

some weeks later, walking together in the

Chilterns, we began to explore how we

might engage in actions that were more

consistent with our aspirations for a life

based on the Buddha’s teachings of

interconnectedness and compassion.

The natural place to start was with what

we ourselves find meaningful and

liberating, our sources of wellbeing and

joy. In effect, we were following Rumi’s

wise guidance:

Let the beauty we love be what we do.

There are hundreds of ways to kneel

and kiss the ground.*

In our case, this was an exciting

opportunity to weave together our shared

love of walking, nature and meditative

practice.

Over the next few weeks we exchanged

ideas and intentions, found a suitable

venue that was accessible by public

transport (the Friends Meeting

House in Charlbury, cared for

by generations of Quakers),

got together an attractive

flyer (thanks to the skills and

generosity of two more

people), worked out the

practicalities of running the

day including how to handle

the finances, until finally, the

evening before the day retreat, we did

the intended walk one more time – only to

find an unexpectedly locked gate.

Fortunately, there was an alternative route,

and it was a good reminder not to take

things for granted!

How did we get here?Could it be that, at the heart of the crisis

faced by our species – and through our

actions by many other species – there is a

profound forgetting or ignorance? Our

existence, let alone our sense of wellbeing,

is completely interdependent, as fragile as

it is miraculous. Yet, as we all know for

ourselves, we so easily take things for

granted, whether it’s our health, the water

that comes out of our kitchen taps, our

present breath, our relationships, or the

many hard-won social and political

freedoms that we enjoy, and often only

appreciate them in retrospect when we’ve

lost them or they are directly threatened.

As Thich Nhat Hanh points out, we’ll

notice how our head feels when we have a

headache, but fail to notice it when we

don’t.

explore how

we might engage

in actions that were

more consistent

with our

aspirations

* From The Essential Rumi, trans.

Coleman Barks



Neurological studies have

provided evidence that our

brains are biased to scan for

immediate dangers – we are

the genetic inheritors of

organisms that were

hypervigilant (it was the

jumpy hominid, not the

laid-back one, who avoided

being eaten by that sabre-

toothed tiger). In Rick

Hanson’s phrase, our ‘brain

is like Velcro for negative

experiences and Teflon for

positive ones’ – we pay more

attention to, and remember more easily,

what we feel threatened by. It is much

more difficult to engage with the same

sense of energy and urgency with more

distant (in time or space) or less tangible

dangers. Television in particular has

bridged the geographical gap, and literally

brings home to us the suffering of those

we do not know, so widening the circle for

our natural compassion. But it’s much

harder to see how the way we live day to

day – our conditioned habits of behaviour

and perception – can be creating suffering

for many living beings, particularly those

in the future. Opening to such an

understanding is also opening to what

may well be perceived as a threat – to our

sense-of-self in particular.

As is now widely recognised, the

psychology of behaviour is complex, and

simply drawing people’s attention to the

link between human activity and global

warming, and the likely consequences, has

not produced the necessary shift in

priorities.

Even if we’re convinced of the seriousness

of the situation, we come up against the

habitual limits of self-interest, the skill we

have mastered to justify ourselves to

ourselves – why it’s okay to make that

particular flight, or to buy that particular

product, or to run the heating for a few

more hours.

So, not quite able to let go of the

delusion of what we need for a sense of

wellbeing, we remain unsatisfied, often

anxious, or close to overwhelm. The

chronic stress of our lives too often triggers

a reaction of withdrawal, resentment or

resignation. Consciously or

subconsciously, we act from that sense of

lack which Ken Jones has so eloquently

pointed out in his teachings on emotional

awareness, fixated on getting rid of the

unpleasant sense of ‘not enough’. In this

reaction, the familiar, which we therefore

so easily take for granted, is not

experienced as a resource, and we look

elsewhere for satisfaction.

Photo: (c) Christine Elliott



How does mindfulness help with this?One of the fruits of practising mindfulness

is that we become sensitive again to our

experience. We are invited to cultivate

‘beginner’s mind’ by deliberately bringing

our attention back to whatever is

happening with a friendly curiosity.

Instead of ignoring or dismissing the

‘everyday’, we see how it is to let go of the

judgements and beliefs that some – even

most – of our daily experience is trivial,

tedious, a time-consuming means to a

much more important end. We begin to

notice how something as ‘mundane’ as

washing up can be transformed

by the way we go about it –

opening to the direct

sensory experience,

letting go of the habit of

thinking of other things

while we ‘get it over

with’.

So mindfulness

offers us a way of

increasingly appreciating

our life, of re-cognising

what is already available to

us. It also, crucially, helps us to

learn different ways of relating to what

we find difficult to be with. To use Jon

Kabat Zinn’s image, instead of exhausting

ourselves in futile attempts to stop the

waves, we learn how to surf. As we

become more confident that we can ride

the tides of our emotions, we don’t have to

spend so much energy maintaining our

defences – and we dare to notice that ‘out

there’ is not so separate from ‘in here’.

Connecting with natureFor many people, and I include myself,

spending time outside connecting with

what we typically call ‘nature’ is a source

of both joy and perspective. It often feels a

safer way to connect with life, to shift our

gaze from our own concerns, than

connecting with other people. Trees, birds,

streams take us as we are, and we can tune

into an ease of being when we watch a bee

burrowing into a foxglove flower, or a leaf

whirling through the air in a gust of wind.

Life seems to be going on regardless of our

personal difficulties, and offers us lessons

in letting go of the urge to

control, as well as connecting

us to something much

larger than our sense-of-

self.

This is undoubtedly

a precious resource,

and can be very

healing – a number of

mental health projects

now offer contact with

nature, often through

gardening, as an aspect of

therapy. Yet it is also possible,

while appreciating the beauty and

wonders of the natural world, to relate to it

in a self-centred way – I vividly remember

realising once, while on retreat, how I was

noticing and preferring the sights, smells

and sounds that gave me pleasure, judging

and rejecting others, ignoring a lot in

between, and how exploitative this felt.

Again, mindfulness can help us to escape

the tyranny of like and dislike, and open to

a sense of wonder at the ‘suchness’ of each

encounter – a bit of broken twig, a patch of

drying mud, an aphid, a soaring lark.

As we

become more confident

that we can ride the tides

of our emotions, we don’t

have to spend so much energy

maintaining our defences –

and we dare to notice that

‘out there’ is not so

separate from ‘in

here’.



On our ‘Wild & Precious’ day we

included two periods of outdoor practice.

The first was borrowed from NEB

Chagford summer retreats, in which pairs

take turns, facilitated and kept safe by

their partner, to explore the sensory

environment with their eyes shut – using

their senses of touch, hearing and smell.

Simply moving from the dominant visual

channel to other channels helps us to move

out of automatic pilot into a more open,

inquisitive, playful way of being.

The other period, which absorbed most

of the afternoon, consisted of a silent walk

down roads, across fields and streams, to a

small area of woodland, followed by time

for each person to be on their own in the

copse before we came together in a circle

to share our experience, before returning

in silence. Simply taking time to meet our

surroundings, with nothing to do but be

aware, the boundaries between self and

other begin to dissolve, and we can touch

the tender joy of being alive, part of this

living world.

And yet… this living world is changing

with a speed and trajectory that has

already seen widespread habitat and

species destruction and is threatening the

lives of millions of people whose

connection with their natural environment

is immediate and intimate. While in

Copenhagen in December 2010 with Rob

Burbea and others, one of the most moving

sessions I attended was to hear the

testimonies of people from land-based

communities as far apart as Kenya, Peru,

the Philippines, Panama and the Canadian

Arctic of the degradation of their lands

and the social and spiritual as well as

economic damage that this was causing.

Connecting with ourselvesIf we have a deepening appreciation of the

natural world as a personal resource, the

threats to it come home to us even more

vividly. We can no longer take anything

for granted. This can bring up powerful

emotions – fear, grief, anger, guilt – and, if

we don’t practise ways of being with these

difficult states, we can become

disconnected with ourselves. Strong

unpleasant emotions all too easily

reinforce our sense-of-self and, with this,

our perception of separateness and

conflict. Action can become distraction, ‘no

time to feel’; we can become judgemental;

or we can feel overwhelmed and sink into

a dark well of despair.

So in order to make the shift in

awareness that is being asked of us,

currently the most powerful species on

earth, it seems that we need to become

more fully aware of both our existing

resources and our sense of lack, and more

skilful at taking care of them. With this in

mind, on our day retreat we included a

period of inquiry, inviting people in pairs

to listen to each other’s responses to the

questions ‘What is your experience of

disconnection?’ and ‘Tell me about

belonging’. As with other elements of the

day, this was offered as an opportunity to

listen deeply, not needing to arrive at ‘an

answer’, let alone ‘the right answer’.

Embarking on such an inquiry involves a

leap into the unknown, an act of courage

and trust.

And, in so many ways, offering this day

retreat was a leap into the unknown,

trusting that our intentions would be our

surest guide.



It was also an expression of appreciation

and gratitude: for the wisdom,

encouragement and kindness of our

spiritual teachers and mentors over the

years; for the custodians of the physical

spaces that we used, inside and out; for the

human capacity to push beyond the

known in the search for deeper connection

and understanding.

And we enjoyed ourselves!

Brigid Avison has been teaching

mindfulness-based stress reduction

(MBSR) courses since 2008. For

information about her and Ally Stott's

retreats, see www.Allystott.co.uk

Photo: (c) Christine Elliott


Ecodarma

The trapped lamb

Kamalamani reflects on Ecodharma

My thoughts about Ecodharma began on

retreat recently at Tiratanaloka in the

Brecon Beacons. One evening I'm

wandering back to my camper van after an

evening of peaceful yet stirring puja

themed around spiritual surrender. It's a

damp, dreich night and I'm looking

forward to snuggling up with my hot

water bottle.

I hear mournful bleating followed by the

cry of a young lamb. My heart sinks. I

notice fleeting resistance followed by a

sense of urgency to find the lamb. I

eventually find him trapped in the

boundary fence, tightly wedged between

an old five-bar gate and a new, tightly

wired fence, dangerously close to rusty

barbed wire and twisty tangled bramble.

As soon as he sees me the lamb freaks out:

frightened and struggling, head-butting

the fence so his nose bleeds, his near hind

leg jammed awkwardly over a rung of the

gate.

Once we've had a talk, stroke and

snuzzle he softens, calms and drops to his

knees. Several failed rescue attempts

follow. The lamb's too heavy to lift with

one hand whilst lifting the barbed wire

with another, and pulling him from the

other side of the fence won't work. Having

recently witnessed a fox tucking into a

newly killed lamb I can't face leaving this

one to that fate, especially not trapped,

without even a fair chance of running back

to the protection of his bleating mother

and flock.

It's dark, cold, I'm scratched, bleeding,

smelling of sheep poo and the house is in

darkness — my fellow retreatants have

gone to bed. Long story short, I wake up a

friend (in fact, the bodhisattva of lambs —

she used to live at Tiratanaloka and is

well-versed in lamb rescue) and after a bit

of yanking, cajoling and comforting the

lamb is freed and fine.

I lie in bed recollecting the themes of the

night: surrender, fear, vulnerability and

friendship. I call upon the bodhisattva Red

Tara, her ruby red form and her rite of

fascination embodying her desire: desire in

its most exalted form — the desire to

liberate all beings. The desire to liberate all

beings. The next morning in meditation I

feel an upsurging and transformation of

desire through contemplating the form and

actions of Red Tara, as if for the first time.

Photo: (cc) Caroline Brazier


Ecodarma

Brainwashed by reality TV and

celebrity culture we continue

to ignore (at our peril) the

pressing need to really

listen and heal wounds

— mine, yours,

wounds between

individuals, in families,

in tribes, between

nation states,

multinationals and

indigenous people — well,

everyone's' wounds. Not to

mention the vast human grief —

conscious and unconscious — in facing

how we've used and abused the planet and

our fellow species for our own ends in our

anthropocentric delusion.

Ecodharma matters because of its areas

of concern and because it draws in beings

from different backgrounds, with a range

of expertise, knowledge and experience:

ecologists, anthropologists, therapists,

community workers, gardeners, political

activists, educators, seasoned Dharma

practitioners who long to know how to

engage with global struggles, and many

others. It goes to a further shore than the

Ecopsychology work of which I am also

glad to be a part. And it 'talks' to those —

some of whom arrive in my therapy room,

with very little or no technical knowledge

of ecology and Dharma — who know that

something just doesn't feel right in the

times we're in, and it isn't just to do with

their pasts. This isn't only about healing

grief, it's about re-connecting with joy,

wonder and curiosity. We find our own

way into Ecodharma and our own

expression of it.

Something gives and shifts into

gear. Had I not met the lamb,

Red Tara and I wouldn't

have met in this way in

morning meditation.

The desire to liberate

all beings is my

gateway into

Ecodharma. That desire

and longing has always

been there, before I had

the words or knew of

Buddhism or Ecodharma or

liberation. Whilst my idealism

might have waned with the years, that

desire has strengthened and seasoned. My

desire to understand — to understand

suffering, my terror of suffering, desire,

the transformation of desire and, through

understanding all of that more clearly,

seeing afresh the human predicament. My

desire to relate to others (versus a desire to

sometimes run a mile, if I'm honest!) and

my desire to figure out whether to

respond, how to respond, when to respond

and the fear and regret of not responding,

of shrinking from the cries of the world

(and my own cries). The polarities of being

and doing, taking action and reflecting,

attracting and repelling, accepting and

protesting — to name but a few.

I'm excited by the movement

encompassed by 'Ecodharma', precisely

because it doesn't fit into a category. I love

that Ecodharma defies neat pigeon-holing

in a mainstream world in which we are

obsessed by regulation, standards,

competencies, tick boxes and having to

know the answer without looking at the

web of mutual causality.


Ecodarma

Yet we can only do this in the company of

friends and community, seeking to free

ourselves from greed, hatred and

unawareness so we can liberate ourselves,

all sentient beings and, in so doing, re-

discover our finely tuned relationship with

other life on earth.

Ecodharma matters because in my mind

it doesn't offer the quick fixes so beloved

of our mainstream culture. Instead it offers

the path of ethics, meditation and wisdom,

aided by the tools of the four sublime

abodes of metta, compassion, gladness and

equanimity, flying towards the freedom of

embodying the impermanent, insubstantial

and ever-changing nature of all

phenomena. It takes us beyond our

anthropocentric gaze so we see that as a

species we face very real challenges that

go beyond single causes and affect all that

lives and breathes. These challenges aren't

single issues such as the environment or

poverty or critical loss of biodiversity.

They're about all of these 'big' issues, their

interrelationship and our dawning

recognition of how our historical and

recent ways of life — fast

accelerated by capitalism — have

further alienated us humans,

particularly in the Global

North; how we've collectively

cut ourselves off from our more

earth-touching nature and our

innate knowledge that we, too, are

creatures made of the same stuff we see

mirrored in the world around us — earth,

water, fire, air, space, consciousness —

whilst societally we are still largely priced

and prized according to our wealth, status,

class, caste, appearance, ethnicity,

sexuality, culture and gender.

After years of thinking that sorting out

the world's problems was about being 'out

there' I've realised that it's about starting

from where I am every day, whilst still

looking to the far horizon and taking risks

in engaging with myself, others and causes

that matter. I was privileged to be an

overseas development worker for many

years. I loved and was very stretched by

the work, interpersonally, culturally and

physically (dust-matted hair and rattled

bones from travelling for hours in rickety

trucks on murram roads). Events of my

30s called me to find out 'who's at home'

in my embodied experience. This was

partly prompted by grief — a plummeting

into my depths and digging deeper in

going for refuge, fuelled by doubt and

faith — and partly prompted by training

for ordination into the Triratna Buddhist

Order, being ordained and starting work

as a counsellor and body psychotherapist.

Now I find myself in the midst of a

return journey, picking up the threads so

important to me from sustainable

development and therapy work and

seeing them through the eyes of a

going for refuge being. I was

delighted when an ecologist

friend pointed out that 'eco' in

Late Latin means home or

household. This made a lot of

sense to me in terms of how I

have been drawn to uncover my

hearth-dwelling facets in parallel with my

more outgoing huntress and lover myths

in sustaining my life, work and practice.

Hestia meets Artemis and Aphrodite.

'eco'

in Late Latin

means home or

household


Ecodarma

Personally I have become

more rooted, more at

home, through

researching and knowing

more intimately my

ancestral lineage and

physical place on earth. I

have explored and

continue to reflect in

more depth on my

karmic and samskaric

lineage through my

practice, therapy work

and, particularly more

recently, through writing

about embodiment and

meditation.

I have re-kindled a sense

of kinship with other life forms, so familiar

to me as a child (second nature, excusing

the unintended pun), and am now glad to

work with clients outdoors precisely

because of the importance of this wider

reconnection — healing splits — beyond

the sometimes narrow confines of the

therapy room. I feel freer to follow my

creative urges in life, some uncanny or

seemingly nonsensical, rather than the

well-grooved path of conformity and

convention. In this vein I often find myself

thinking about Siddhartha Gautama

leaving home, parting with his wife, child,

family, kinsmen and palace and venturing

into the wilderness. When I picture the

Buddha — Siddhartha, though now 'fully

awake' — I see a deeply wrinkled and

weathered old man in tattered, faded robes

with leathery feet. He has a sublime

presence and kind, courageous eyes. He

beckons me.

Recalling the vulnerability of the trapped

lamb, parted from his flock, I am reminded

of the choice I have, we all have, if I/we

remember, in every moment. As I practise

Ecodharma I constantly flirt with the

potential of the point of freedom through

full engagement with life and all other

beings. Faced with a situation in which life

is being full of itself, as it so often is, do I

choose to head-butt the fence like my lamb

friend, in a panicky, vain attempt to seek

escape and free myself or do I recall the

royal ease of Red Tara, perfectly poised —

one leg in meditation and one leg stepping

down to serve and liberate all sentient

beings?

Kamalamani is a Dharma-farer and body

psychotherapist living and working in

Bristol. Her first book 'Meditating with

Character' has recently been published by

Mantra Books (see www.mantra-books.net

/books/meditating-with-character)

www.kamalamani.co.uk

Photo: (cc) Max Pfandl


Living in harmony

There is no ‘f’ in environmentVenerable Amaranatho

describes his search for

a life lived in harmony

A lot of people say there is no F in

environment, meaning that there is no

future for planet Earth: we are reaching a

place of no return, where whatever we do

will not be enough to save it. For me there

is an F in environment and that F is silent –

it's one of freedom. Freedom gives choice.

The etymology of environ is to encircle,

surround. What is it you want to surround

yourself with?

I arrived at Amaravati Buddhist

monastery on my bike with all my worldly

possessions, having cycled three days from

the border of Wales where I was living in a

meditation centre. I chose to become a

monk because I wanted to live an ethical

life. I wanted to be surrounded by people

who keep at least the five precepts and

being a monk felt like the most ethical type

of work. I remember watching the then

abbot, Ajahn Sumedho, go about his daily

duties with remarkable ease; he seemed to

be happy, relaxed even though he had a

such a busy schedule. His relentless

teaching of awareness, attention, staying in

the present moment, trusting yourself,

listening and being open, and that you did

not have to be an exceptional person to

understand the Buddha’s teaching, started

to impact on me.

I began to apply what he was saying,

kept reflecting, listening, and opening. It

was pretty hair-raising. I got ill, I got well,

I got ill, I understood everything, I knew

nothing. Living in the monastery was a

cleansing experience I had not bargained

for. With hindsight I did not even know

what was happening to me because I was

too numb. Some sort of plan was

unfolding in front of me and my job

seemed to be to follow it. If I didn't do that

I suffered and I no longer wanted to suffer.

I knew that from when I was a teenager ?

no more suffering, lots more happiness.

A year into being a monk, I took over

running the family camp events, which I

led for the next ten years. I thought I was

doing this so that I could offer something

to the families, at least that's how it

seemed. Well, it went from that to

learning from them, to use learning

together. I can say with hand on heart I

have never received so much love from

any group of people. I also received fear,

hate, and confusion. As I opened up and

embraced more of life, I started to feel

alive and abundant. I learnt how to deal

with the shadow side, to understand

archetypical forces, Ken Wilber's integral

approach, spiral dynamics, pre- and peri-

natal psychology and the four noble truths.

Photo: (cc) Carl Jones


Living in harmony

I also started to notice that the circle of

the family camp and the circle of the

monastery did not overlap for me: what I

had learnt in the camp was not welcomed

within the monastery. I was the only monk

at Amaravati to work with a nun on an

equal basis in terms of shared leadership,

processing and developing openness in the

camp where the campers could offer

feedback (and where they also received

feedback from me).

One Christmas I wanted to go to London

to help the homeless and got turned down

by the community — we are not social

workers here, I was told. I wanted to cycle

rather than walk (because I wrecked my

back from carrying a heavy rucksack for too

many years and too much rigid meditation)

from Lands End to John O' Groats — but

no, Theravadin monks don't do that. The

Monastery did support me, though, in

working with the AFAN project (All Faiths

and None) to bring the big questions in life

from a faith and belief perspective to young

people. I also understand that living in in

the same community requires commitment

and work just to keep the place going.

I have had some of the best experiences in

my life at Amaravati, with such profound

stillness in the temple at 5 am — and some

of the worst arguments.

I guess it’s not surprising

I left after ten and half

years, still a novice monk. I

left the monastery with six

boxes of books, a laptop,

mobile phone and a begging

bowl and became a

wandering monk. What

does that mean? It means

no financial support from the

monastery, no place to live, and

everything to work out for oneself.

When I left the monastery, I was lucky

enough to be offered a chance to live on

an organic farm. I thought this would be

great. I moved back up north to a rural

setting, and started to plant and dig

(novice Theravadin monks can do this).

Wow, what a lot of hard work to get a

few carrots out of the ground, but they

did taste great. As I weeded — you do a

lot of that — I started to watch the mind:

what is the difference between a weed

and a vegetable? And I applied this to my

life: what do I like and don’t like and

why? I started to run meditation and

gardening retreats and because of my

Jewish background ran a weekend retreat

called the Monk, the Rabbi and the

Garden. I led the Jewish bit and the Rabbi

led the Buddhist bit, and we worked in

the garden on the Sunday, no work on

the Sabbath.

I learnt a lot living on the farm — you

have to be physically fit, disciplined and

there are so many factors to think about:

rain, soil, market, prices, ideals. We can

have visions of going back in history to

the good ol' days, and I think most of us

would just not be ready for that type of

life.

Photo: (cc) Julien Manteau


Living in harmony

I also noticed how far removed society has

come from nature and how things grow.

The same can be applied to what we want

to grow and nurture within ourselves, the

inner environment — how much we have

lost contact with what is important in our

lives, what we feed ourselves both

physically and mentally.

Our original environment was in

Mother, in a human body, where we were

a fish for nine months, living underwater,

before being born through a woman's most

intimate part of her body. The work of

Alice Miller, neuroscience, psychohistory,

epigenetics, now show unequivocally how

parenting, our birth processes, our

educational approaches, and the way we

treat mothers, shape ourselves and society.

Just as we need more organic farms so that

we can have the right nutrition, we need

more places where people can come

together to explore, share and understand

the conditioning process (this is something

I would like to develop).

When we start to become aware of our

conditioning — our environment in the

sense of `the condition in which a person

lives' — this allows us to notice our deep

sense of interconnectedness, the unity that

embraces the diversity, power with rather

than power over. It requires a very simple

act of paying attention to what Ajahn

Sumedho calls the `way it is'. Surrendering

so deeply that it breaks open every cell in

our body, allowing a reorganisation that

shines light on our unshakeability which

feels every movement. As we learn to

trust and recognise the voice of wisdom

rather than the ego, we learn to flow with

life, to know when it feels right to express

our joys or concerns.

While learning to recognise the

difference between the ego and wisdom

you can make plenty of mistakes. This is

the time to use the F again, to forgive

yourself and, if needed, forgive the other

person. The way that I have learnt to do

this is by staying in the body, learning to

make friends with it and not running away

from the feelings. When I cling to a fixed

outcome, or want it to be my way, then

there is no F in environment and it

becomes painful and lifeless. As I've

watched life unfold I've noticed that

everything changes, in both subtle and

gross ways, from a pain in the back to the

most refined of emotions; life becomes a

wave to surf. As we let things be the way

they are and trust in both wisdom and

knowledge, we start to notice we are not

who we think we might be. Then we can

respond to the situation through harmony

and recognise that silent F — Freedom.

To find out more about Amaranatho:

www.playfulmonk.net and

www.parentingwarriors.com

But the enduring

appeal of his vision suggests

a more longstanding and widespread

culture of despair concerning the

possibility of real progress in human

affairs. Buddhism, in contrast, offers hope.

A jug of water is filled by a sequence of

single drops; we can make genuine

progress, albeit through a series of small

steps — Sisyphus’s boulder does roll back,

but not quite to its previous position.

And yet, in Buddhism, the question of

progress is more complex than this. Yes,

we need patience as we note how slowly

we accumulate wisdom and skilfulness,

but there is also a fundamental ambiguity

in the spiritual process itself.


Engaged Buddhism and Politics

Camus, Santideva, Marx:

‘Engaged Buddhism’ and Politics

Richard Winter negotiates paradox through parallels

In our discussion group at the Cambridge

Triratna Buddhist Community recently, we

were discussing our experience of the five

‘hindrances’ that impede our spiritual and

ethical progress. One person said, with

more than a hint of sadness, that we never

seem to be able to finally banish them: the

next time we sit down to meditate there

they are again — craving, ill-will, torpor,

anxiety and doubt — and it seems as

though we have to start all over again.

This made me think of the myth

of Sysiphus, condemned by

the gods to spend his life

rolling a boulder up a

hill, only to have it roll

down again to the

bottom just at the

point when he

seemed to have achieved his goal. Albert

Camus saw this as a symbol of the

‘absurdity’ of the human condition in

general: lacking any divine sanction, our

efforts have no externally validated

meaning; our only source of happiness,

therefore, is that we can understand ‘the

whole extent of [our] wretched condition’.

Camus’s account of the Sysiphus myth was

written during what he calls ‘the European

disaster’ of 1940, when civilization seemed

about to be overwhelmed by an

unstoppable regime of systematic

brutality. Illustration by Mike Donahue



On the one hand there is the challenge of

trying to accept our repeated failures, as

we note the disquieting gap between our

spiritual and ethical ideal and our various

‘efforts’ — our thoughts, speech, actions,

livelihood, mindfulness and concentration

as we try to pursue the ‘Eightfold Path’.

This is the challenge of

maintaining metta —

avoiding irritation, anger

and disabling self-doubt.

On the other hand there

is the challenge of

sustaining our

confidence and trust

(shraddha) that this

‘acceptance’ is actually

part of an increased

understanding of our

experience and indeed

part of a forward

momentum: the

transformation of our

responses that constitutes our

spiritual and ethical development.

And indeed, the paradox of this

double emphasis seems not

entirely remote from Camus’s

suggestion that we attain happiness

through insight into the reality of our

suffering.

These complex strains implicit in the

Buddhist experience are dramatically

expressed in Santideva’s classic account of

the ‘Bodhisattva Way of Life’

(Bodhicaryavatara). Santideva begins by

celebrating the ‘Spirit of Awakening’: ‘the

striving for the complete happiness of all

sentient beings… the seed of the world’s

joy and…the remedy for the world’s

sufferings’ (I, 26, 27).

But then, despite being one of the very

icons of such awakening, he confesses his

own inadequacy: ‘Devoid of merit and

destitute … an ignorant fool, terrified of

suffering… due to delusion, attachment

and hatred, I have sinned in many ways’

(II, 7; 63; 64; 38). This agonizing

contrast between aspiration and

achievement is continued in

the next two chapters: on

the one hand, he aspires to

be ‘the medicine and the

physician for the sick…

a lamp for those who

seek light, a bed for

those who seek rest’

(III, 7; 18); on the other

hand, he remains

‘enslaved’ by the

‘mental afflictions’ of

‘craving, and hatred’ (IV,

28; 32). Can he, coherently,

‘liberate’ all beings when he

has not even liberated himself

(IV, 41)?

But the problem lies even

deeper: The theme of Chapter VIII

is the need for self-sacrifice,

compassion and generosity, the

transcendence of the self arising from

the recognition that one’s own being

cannot be separated from that of others.

But the difficulty of this aspiration is

compounded by the ‘unreality’ of all

beings, all suffering, all phenomena, and

all perceptions. Neither ‘atoms’ nor

‘feelings’ really exist, so ‘If no sentient

being exists, for whom is there

compassion’ (IX, 33; 86; 101; 75)?

Cartoon of Albert Camus

by John Spooner



Thus, the project of ‘engaged

Buddhism’ seems to be

threatened by a disabling

instability, because our hopes

for (and understanding of)

spiritual and ethical progress

are enmeshed in the

conundrums of all perception

and cognition: if all beings and

all engagements are ‘unreal’,

what can it mean to ‘engage’

our own being in seeking the

well-being of other ‘beings’?

So I am led to suggest that

the Buddhist understanding of

spiritual effort might helpfully

be supplemented by a Marxist

analysis of the processes that

create delusion, egotism,

craving and hatred at the level

of social, cultural and political

interactions and institutions. If we could

see the distinction between egotistical

delusion and compassionate

enlightenment as having parallels with the

distinction between egotistical oppression

and compassionate justice, we would have

a social focus for our efforts as well as an

internal and a ‘transcendental’ focus. In

other words, if our model of the reality we

share with others included more precisely

the reality of culture and politics, we

would have a more comprehensive (and

less paradoxical) framework for our

attempts to grapple with Santideva’s issues

of spiritual and ethical ‘progress’.

This overlap between the spiritual and

the political may be seen as exemplifying

one meaning of Indra’s Net: each

particular situation and experience

evoking the totality of the Dharma.

It might enable us to see more clearly how

mindfulness and compassion can give us

courage, patience and discernment in

combating the reality of egotism, delusion

and oppression in the world as well as

escapism and despair in ourselves. And

this might give us greater confidence that

the efforts of an engaged Buddhist

inspired by the Bodhisattva ideal can

achieve moments of unambiguous

practical significance, even though any

apparent successes will of course always

be provisional, conditioned and

impermanent.

Richard Winter is the author of Power,

Freedom, Compassion: Transformations

for a Better World (ISBN 978-1-4477-8706-

8). For more information, see

www.richardwinter.net.

Cartoon of Marx (cc) Raul Curbelo


Review

What is Engaged

Buddhism?

by Ken Jones

A review by Zara Rizvi

What is Engaged Buddhism? is an

introductory booklet written for the

Network of Engaged Buddhists by its

founder, Ken Jones. It takes the reader on

a journey, from ancient Buddhist

reflections on human suffering to the

modern day social and economic

structures founded on this struggle, the

rise of social activism and ‘alternative’

movements to counteract these - and

finally, full circle back to contemplative

inner work, and the “radical culture for

awakening” that can flower from it. It is a

practical and invaluable introduction to

engaged Buddhism and a reminder of the

need for a commitment to social change

which is firmly grounded in individual

practice.

The urgency for social engagement is

strikingly clear from the outset. Jones

addresses the unequal distribution of

resources across the world, the violent

struggles, the pressing challenge of

environmental sustainability, as well as the

incessant pursuit of wealth and its effects

on individual wellbeing.

“Today the developed world is an

emotionally hungry place, insatiable in its

wants and recklessly exploiting both the

rest of the world and the planet itself.”

The booklet proposes that the greed and

fear of individuals has mushroomed into

widespread social structures and

institutions, which both legitimise and

appear separate from the human

characteristics which underpin them.

Through it’s direct exploration of the

human condition, Buddhism is introduced

as a tool for examining delusive

projections and a way of beginning to

engage more responsibly with the root of

social ills.

“Evidently we need to look deeper,

beyond our attempts to change the

objective conditions of life itself.

Could it be that our root problem lies

there, and that an ancient (and yet

surprisingly ‘modern’) religion like

Buddhism can point the way forward?”


Review

Jones draws upon Buddhism’s teaching

of the ‘second arrow’ which identifies the

distinction between direct, tangible

affliction and our emotional and

psychological response to it. He comments

on the tendency of modern societies to

fabricate “quick fix solutions” to suffering,

and how in doing so they run the risk of

glossing over the deeper experiential

dimension. We are reminded that for

Buddhists such awareness is essential,

nurturing a more meaningful heart

response to the needs of this world and the

people within it.

For Jones, personal and social change

are inseparable.

Neither one is more important and each

informs the other. When both the “mystic”

and the “militant” come together, they

form a whole being, whose work is both

inner and outer.

The deepening of emotional awareness

through reflective practice is fundamental

to effective social action. It is all too easy

for our intentions to become clouded by

fanaticism, power or

righteousness. For Jones,

Buddhist practice anchors us

- from these dizzy heights

of ‘selfing’, a more flexible

and compassionate

response is possible.

Where appropriate, we can

become involved with other

organisations who share our

concerns without being drawn

into brutality or bias. He notes the

risks of one-size-fits-all literalism and the

place for “situationist” social action, which

is kindly aware and adaptive to individual

context.

His depiction of an engaged Buddhist

movement is a far cry from the heady

hippy utopia one may fall prey to

fantasising about. It is one which remains

intimate with reality, in touch with the

way things are. I felt my heart slightly sink

at his reference to the “disastrous”

culmination of communism. Such

reflection shakes the ‘fixer’ within me that

longs for a perfect solution, a solid

ideology for peace and equality which I

can grasp and aspire to.

Jones repeatedly reminds us that

Buddhist practice involves challenging

our ideological belief systems and

closely inspecting our inner

motivations. That is not to

say we neglect social

change – quite the

opposite. This deep “inner

work” has the potential to

unearth an authentic clarity

and inspiration which lies

beneath our exhausting self

need to defend one fixed view or

another.

“Here is a sense of liberative joy, of

gratitude, freed of the constant strain of

trying to shape our condition the way we

vainly desire it to be.”

When both

the “mystic” and

the “militant” come

together, they form a

whole being, whose

work is both inner

and outer.

Photo: (cc) sjoe


Social problems can no longer be seen as

something ‘out there’. This

booklet is a practical

examination of how we

can begin to transcend

our limiting self views

and respond to the

needs of our world.

As a new member

of the NEB, I found

What is Engaged

Buddhism? an

accessible and

practical introduction

to their work. It contains

comprehensive information

about existing Buddhist social

projects, movements and activities and is a

thorough and inspiring overview. I would

highly recommend it to members new and

old. Furthermore, it is available to all for

free as a PDF at


Jones makes our situation clear, society

simply cannot continue based on

its current value systems. The

constant pursuit for

material wealth and

production is

exhausting planetary

resources and

destabilising eco-

systems. Change is

needed and fast. Just

as the culmination of

human thought

created the social

structures of today, so too

can they create the future.

“What is needed is roadmap

on the way to start building the future

now. And the foundation for that

profoundly different future lies in radically

changing the way in which we experience

our daily world, shoulder our

responsibilities and act out our lives.”

society

simply cannot

continue based on its

current value systems. The

constant pursuit for material

wealth and production is

exhausting planetary resources

and destabilising

eco-systems. Change is

needed and

fast.

Photo: (cc) Vornaskotti


Poetry

When the self advances

the thousand things retire;

When the self retires,

the thousand things advance.

-- Zen Master Dogen

Hunched on the mountain wall, a buzzard,

that most meditative of birds of prey, eyes

me balefully. As I make my way

downwards through the gate some

compelling presence begins to grow upon

me.

Ancient oaks

they stand and wait

so much to say

It is unusual in such a high and lonely

place to find so many fine trees,

enlivening, too, a bright green pasture. It is

cropped by a herd of gwartheg duon, the

ancient Welsh Blacks. I recall there is a

Gaelic word for the sheen of sunlight upon

the flanks of black beasts. And so it is in

this morning of the world.

Neat coppices now grow wild. Paths and

tracks are hard to find.

Bright with May blossoms

where once the barley waved

the past finds voice

Here and there are the scant remains of

tumbled poverty. In an almost vanished

chimney nook a blackened kettle filled

with water.

Skeleton bed

lost in the bracken

the wreckage of a dream

Some homes have died so long ago that

their names live on only on the map.

“Farch-Ynys” . “Stallion’s Isle”? A mythic

beast ? An island far from any lake or sea ?

In the midst of a tanglewood I chance

upon an abandoned hippy squat. A broken

caravan filled with chaotic domesticity. On

the floor a scatter of children’s crayons.

Nearby is a large upturned boat, grass

through its stoved in timbers. And here a

van without wheels, scrawled with

Thatcher-era graffiti: “No Poll Tax !” All

abandoned in fearful or angry haste.

Beside their overgrown path, soon to

disappear and take their story with it,

three streams meet. A rare conjunction

this. And traditionally a magic place.

There good and evil are said to hang in

balance.

The flow of solitude

a stony stream

wanders on

Photo: (cc) Nigel Jones

The UnspokenKen Jones June 2012


Summer Workshop Retreat

The 14th Summer Workshop Retreat

of the Network of Engaged Buddhists

Thurs 30th Aug to Mon 3rd Sept 2012 at Eaglehurst, Chagford, Devon

How to do Engaged BuddhismThis year we shall address two questions

of the utmost importance. First, through

what specific activities can we best engage

with the needs of our world?. Secondly,

we shall have a go at the trainings required

to undertake those activities.

We shall use talks, small group

discussion, and experience specific

trainings together – and always with a care

for where each of us is at. As usual there

will be meditation, conviviality, and

everything else which makes “Chagford”

such a unique and valued experience. And

in a splendid mansion overlooking

Dartmoor.A warm welcome to old and

new friends from Ken, Joyce, Maitrisara,

Martin, Modgala and the rest of the team.

Cost per personRooms £150 (£110 concessions)

Cabin/camping £110 (£90 concessions)

Full details and directions will be

circulated by email about two weeks

before the start of the event.

Any immediate enquiries should be

directed to Martin Pitt by email:

[email protected]

Further details &

booking form overleaf >


Summary InformationArrival/ departure : start will be 7pm on

Thurs 30 August (arrival from 4pm) and

finish on Mon 3 Sept at 10am.

FoodCatering will be vegan, although other

dietary needs can be accommodated,

please explain when booking if you have

any special requirements. You are also

invited to bring favourite teas, biscuits and

the like.

Accommodation...will be in shared bedrooms (up to 3

sharing) in Eaglehurst - a spacious

Victorian house overlooking Dartmoor, 40

minutes drive from Exeter. A limited

number of outdoor cabins are available

and camping is also possible.

Travel Shared car and train use is encouraged and

participant emails will be circulated in

advance (where permission is given) to

facilitate transport arrangements.

To book, complete the booking slip below

and return together with cheque payment

to– Martin Pitt, Eaglehurst, Mill St,

Chagford, NEWTON ABBOT, Devon TQ13

8AR.

Bookings will be on receipt of £50

deposit only and confirmed by email. £40

refunds will be given for cancellations

made

at least fourteen days before the event

(after this no refunds will be offered).

Permission will also be requested to

share your email amongst participants so

that shared transport arrangements can be

made.

Please contact Martin Pitt (above) if any

further financial assistance is required.

Summer Workshop Retreat

Booking form:Please reserve ____ place(s) for me at the

14th Summer workshop of the Network of

Engaged Buddhists (30 Aug - 3 Sept 2012)

I enclose a deposit cheque for £50 per place

made payable to ‘M.A.Pitt’

Name(s): ________________________________

_______________________________________

Date: ___________________________________

Address: ________________________________

_______________________________________

_______________________________________

_______________________________________

Tel: _____________________________________

Email: __________________________________

Please specify preferred accommodation:

Residential Cabin Camping

Any special dietary needs: ________________

_______________________________________

Send form and payment to:

Martin Pitt, NEB Retreat, Eaglehurst, Mill St,

Chagford, NEWTON ABBOT, Devon TQ13 8AR.


The Network of Engaged Buddhists

Contacts

President: Ken Jones

Chair: Joyce Edmond-Smith,

32 Bentham Road, Brighton, BN2 2XD.

[email protected]

Membership Secretary: Melissa Meek,

Parkers Flat 2, Market Place, Castle Cary,

Somerset, BA7 7AG. T: 01963 359418

Secretary and Editor of Indra’s Net:

Maitrisara, 18 Bhandari Close, Oxford,

OX4 3DT. T: 01865 777297

[email protected]

Regional Contacts:

Devon: Martin Pitt, Eaglehurst, Mill St,

Chagford, TQ13 8AR. T: 01647 432202

Dorset/Somerset: Melissa Meek, Parkers

Flat 2, Market Place, Castle Cary, Somerset,

BA7 7AG. T: 01963 359418

East Sussex: Joyce Edmond-Smith,

32 Bentham Road, Brighton, BN2 2XD.

T: 01273 680705

Wales: Ken Jones, Troed Rhiw Sebon,

Cwmrheidol, Aberystwyth, SY23 3NB.

T: 01970 880603

West Midlands: John Newson, 32 Alder

Road, Birmingham, B12 8BS.

T: 0121 4493977

East Midlands: David Brazier,

Amida Trust, The Buddhist House,

12 Coventry Road, Narborough,

Leicestershire, LE19 2GR.

T: 0116 286 7476

Scotland: Larry Butler, 14 Garroich Drive,

Glasgow, G20 8RS. T: 01419 468096

What does NEB do?

Produce a magazine Indra’s Net to keep

us connected with each other and let

people in different Sanghas know

what it going on.

Run workshops at events such as the

Buddhafield festival, organise

weekend and day retreats and

workshops in different localities

around the country.

Organise protests, actions and joint

projects on issues of current concern

e.g.: anti-war demonstrations, arms

trade protest.

Represent the concerns of Engaged

Buddhism at national fora such as the

Network of Buddhist Organisations

and the Interfaith Network.

Host an active email based forum

nebsangha (see website) for

discussion of ideas, posting requests

for help and publicising events and

activities.

Joining NEB as a member

Please think about joining us and getting

three Indra’s Net per year posted to you.

Subscription details are on page 2.

There is an apppliction form on our

website.

Website


More about NEB

This edition of Indra's Net was inspired by

an interfaith initiative called A Year of

Service. NEB worked with the Network of

Buddhist Organisations (NBO) to focus

events within the month of July and on the

theme of the Environment. Other faith

groups chose other months and other

themes. Called Earthkind, the full moon

day was designated Buddhist Action Day

(BAD).

The initiative aimed to inspire different

Buddhist groups to organise events on the

theme and most of the events organised

are detailed here:

http://ayearofservice.org.uk/past-events.

Our hope is that Buddhist Action Day

(maybe on a different theme each year)

becomes an annual ecumenical and

interfaith event reflecting engaged

Buddhist approaches and actively

making a contribution within local

communities to address social

justice and environmental issues.

Indras Net Summer 2012

Documents

Transcript of Indras Net Summer 2012