(c) Western Chan Fellowship, UK, 1998. May not be quoted for commercial purposes. Anyone wishing to quote for non-commercial purposes may seek permission from the secretary wcf@child.demon.co.uk or Simon Child, 24 Woodgate Ave, Bury, Lancs, BL9 7RU, England UK. Printed versions of past and future issues [which includes all pictures etc.] can be obtained for the sum of 2.50 pounds sterling each, including surface postage, anywhere in the world. NEW CH'AN FORUM No. 16 Spring 1998 Dharma Adviser The Venerable Chan Master Dr. Sheng-Yen Teacher Dr. John Crook (Ch'uan-Teng Chien-Ti) Editors John Crook John McGowan Simon Child Price: 2.50 uk sterling TRAVELLING THE PATH In this issue we consider pilgrimage, a theme of importance in many so many spiritual practices. Pilgrimage may be an external activity or an internal process. In our quest for Enlightenment many of us practice both. Not only have several of us made major journeys in recent months visiting famous Buddhist shrines, meeting helpful teachers and exploring the Dharma in ancient lands but we are also starting on a new journey of our own as a brand new institution. We are happy to be able to announce that, after some months and much deliberation that the constitution of the new WESTERN CH'AN FELLOWSHIP is almost complete. It is out hope that the constitution will be finally decided in February. The growth of institutions such as ours reflects, we believe, an important time of change for Buddhism in the West. The question of what kind of institution we wish to found is central to the how we view our practice. In recent issues we have reflected on the many pitfalls of developing Buddhist organisations. These serve to remind us our involvement must be not only enthusiastic but also self critical and mindful . In this issue we have a number of articles and poems about some of our outer and inner journeys. Among the many contributions are accounts of a journeys to China by John Crook Mount Kailas by John and by Alec Lawless, to the Ganges by Iris Tute, to Scotland by Ken Jones, and to an enigmatic guru by Carol Evans. Julia Lawless and Avril Furneax also give poetic accounts of two very different kinds of pilgrimage. Also in this issue John gives a detailed account of the considerations that have led to the formulation of a constitution for the Western Chan Fellowship and Simon Child outlines the story of how the idea of the Fellowship has crystallised and some of the many practical and spiritual considerations along the way. Additionally we have included a summary of some of the main points of the WCF constitution. For those who wish to read it in its entirety copies are available on request. We hope you will write to us with any views and ideas you may have about this new venture. Feedback is essential in this ongoing process. A MIND LIKE SNOW Master Sheng-yen1 In day to day living, you may find it extremely difficult to settle the mind. It might seem that the only time the mind feels settled is when there is nothing to do. When something happens, either externally or internally, or when you encounter gain or loss, the emotions are encouraged and the mind becomes disturbed. Most of us wish to have peaceful, undisturbed minds and to be able to put down attachments. We may even have ideas on how to accomplish such clarity and offer our advice to others. Yet, when personal adversity strikes, often all this goes out of the window and we cannot settle our minds whatever we do. Recently, I visited Arizona and noticed that much of the vegetation in the desert had needles instead of leaves. Small plants had little needles, big ones had large needles. Even some of the flowers had needles. Someone told me they serve as protection from the heat of the sun by reducing the amount of evaporation suffered by the plants. The primary purpose was not to hurt anyone. I tell you this story because we too have our needles and thorns. We need not think of them as weapons to hurt others but rather as a device to protect or conserve energy. If you become disturbed, unbalanced, vexed or angry every time you encounter adversity you will undoubtedly lose a lot of energy. If you think others are wrong or the situation is wrong and you strive to avoid, reject or fix it, you will become unbalanced or distressed. Yet, before you fix it, you have already hurt yourself. First you are hurt by others, bad enough, but then you hurt yourself more by generating and clinging to negative reactions. So you receive damage twice, or even more often as the cycle repeats. On the other hand, if you maintain a balanced mind then there is only the first level of damage and you no longer add damage on top of damage. Better yet, you may reach a point where you no longer view the situation as bad at all. One of the reasons why we practice is so that we can maintain an undisturbed mind at all times. People seem to create more problems than they resolve. People who create problems have distressed minds. To them everything is problematic, and in dealing with their problems they inadvertently create even more of them. Notice how, in a traffic jam, some people lean on their horns even though they know it will not make the cars move faster, and then others honk their horns because the first honkers are annoying them. In the end everyone simply adds noise on top of noise. To me, the world often seems like this. Have you noticed how quiet it is when the snow falls? It is because snow absorbs sound. There is much to learn from snow. When you encounter adversity, instead of reacting negatively, allow your mind to absorb and dissolve the problem. In this way you will be undisturbed and at peace. You need to discover how to practice in such a way that any and all problems disappear. This is an excellent method for daily life. Remember the peace that arises in snowfall and "cool it". 1Given on November 14th 1993, published in Chan Magazine, Winter 1995. Presented here lightly edited with permission. CREATING A NEW ZEN INSTITUTION: THE WESTERN CH'AN FELLOWSHIP EDITORIAL FROM THE CH'AN HALL The scholars Melvyn Goldstein and Paljor Tsarong have argued that Buddhism is one of history's most ambitious and radical social and psychological experiments because it attempts to create a society in which ideals of non attachment, non-desire, material renunciation and transcendental wisdom are institutionalised. It tries to socialise recruits into an alternative set of norms for understanding and creating a world in which attachments are considered sources of suffering. But then they ask, "Is this successful?"1 The idea certainly appeals to the West. The spread of Buddhist institutions of many kinds has in the last decade been phenomenal. The number of Zen and Tibetan institutions now numbers over a thousand2 and one may argue that, apart from the venerability of vast old monasteries, Buddhist activity in the West far exceeds that within China and India and, even though understanding may often be poor, has a more creative and exploratory style than in the lands of its tradition and origin. Yet all is not particularly well. In recent years an embarrassing number of cases of sexual and financial corruption, particularly in US centres, has tainted this renaissance and the nature of some new institutions given cause for critical reflection. These have been the focus of several articles and debate in this journal.3 As we ourselves attempt to take a step forward in the creation of a charitable association of fellow practitioners, the move needs to be made with mindful caution. Study reveals that, taken together with the ethical inadequacies of certain teachers, the main problems in the USA arose from a certain naivet‚ in the followership of both Eastern and newly transmitted Western masters. I have argued that we need not doubt the significance of the original transmission to teach of these men4.The problem has been an exaggerated and uncritical acceptance by their followers that the implication of their "enlightenment" has been that Western teachers would behave in ways that would not merit reproach. Operating outside the traditional supervision and peer control of monastic organisations it seems that basking in the approbation of their followers simply went to these people's head. In the case of Easterners, a failure to understand the contemporary post-modern world of ethical and behavioural relativity appears to have contributed to their seduction by the self-indulgent permissiveness of our time. Spiritual inflation is a parent to corruption. The answer must clearly lie in creating an appropriately effective institutional organisation with in-built checks and balances which prevent this sort of stupidity from arising. This has been our endeavour in the two assemblies at the Maenllwyd and we have come up with the accompanying constitution for the Western Chan Fellowship. Some may ask why I should have proposed such a move. After all, the retreats at Maenllwyd were running well and, by suggesting these changes, I was giving myself a lot of trouble. It would have been easier to continue in the freestyle manner we had adopted and this could have meant that I could opt out and retire to the mountains (or the beaches) at any time. Maybe time will show that such an arrangement would have been more effective. A Zen teacher operates in many ways: remoteness, hidden practice and difficulty of access could well produce a more effective teaching even if it were limited to the few who took the trouble of tracking him down.5 I must tell you I find this notion attractive and may yet go for it. At some point, however, I was asked by Master Sheng-yen to lead orthodox Chan retreats in the UK. Subsequently, he passed the transmission of the Lin-chi lineage as descended through Master Hsu-yun to me as the second of his Dharma heirs.6 In accepting this truly great honour I was touched by Shifu's trust in me and resolved that I had to try and carry out his mandate, transmitting Chan down to the generations up coming in Britain. I am the same age as Shifu: both of us are in our mid sixties and there is no saying which of us will last the longer. The task is for now and cannot wait. When I asked Shifu how to do it, he merely remarked "Since this is your culture and you know it better than I, that is something you will have to find out for yourself!" At our first assembly7 I suggested an organisation that might be able to balance two essential requirements; the caring preservation of the lineage and the prevention of inappropriate behaviour in any teacher or master appointed by the fellowship. Given that we are a group of lay practitioners and not monastics under strict vows, a form of limited democracy seemed to be the answer. On the one hand the teacher, by virtue of transmission, has something especial to say and holds the traditional authority for saying it and transmitting it. No unqualified person can question the teaching as such, only request its more effective presentation. Scholarship and experience form the style of the one chosen to be a teacher and these cannot be arbitrarily altered if a lineage is to be sustained. Yet a teacher is only a human being and may suffer from defects in character. In past history these would have been balanced against his attainments through teacher and peer supervision. In the modern world, an Executive Committee elected by a lay membership must have some of this function and operate in contact with an advisory body of highly qualified non-members. Both teacher and members then have a court of appeal in the event of criticism or disputation. With such a democratic structure, an organisation of fellow practitioners is protected from the risks of inadequacy in the teacher and from the foolishness of individual fellows. This then is the prime feature of the constitution we have devised and which we put forward in this issue for your comment and criticism. The Fellowship is open to those who have some attainment in Dharma practice through attending retreats at the Maenllwyd. This ensures that, before joining, some realisation of the value of practice has developed, leading an individual to appreciate the importance of the Refuges, the Three Jewels and the Precepts. Knowing full well that lay persons do not have a taste for restrictions that appear to be imposed by doctrinal commandments, we debated whether these requirements were too strict. Yet to think so would be to misunderstand the nature of preceptual practice. The Precepts are guidelines to help one avoid karmic mistakes that will generate future retribution. They are not rules which it is sinful to break. The difference is psychologically significant and, once understood, the Precepts should not be seen as a barrier. Even so, we appreciate there will be some who, while favouring Buddhistic approaches to life, do not wish to commit themselves. At present we are not considering some category of associate membership. We wish to be a practice organisation. None the less "friends of the Maenllwyd", genuinely hesitant about calling themselves Buddhists, are of course welcome on the retreats we offer. It is vital to stress that the Fellowship does not exist simply for the benefit of fellows. In no way is the Fellowship a preserve for the exclusive advantage of those who opt to join us. Indeed the function of fellows is to support a programme of Buddhist education open to all. Starting with the Western Zen Retreat, practitioners qualify for more demanding retreats which they might not be able to undertake as beginners. To make the more intensive sitting retreats valuable one has to get used to the sitting posture; to understand the significance of sitting; to have some grasp of the essentials of the View; to have begun examining one's place in the Cosmos. Training is thus necessarily progressive, a beginner cannot start at the end. Literally a charitable organisation, we exist to help suffering humanity. Indeed we might well consider calling ourselves the Western Chan Sangha. One concern that has arisen is that the formation of an institution may be divisive. I cannot say but Krishnamurti's well known argument against institutionalisation is one I take seriously. He felt strongly that to create an institution was to produce an object of attachment about which, furthermore, people's opinions will vary thus creating pros and cons and hence social divisiveness. To Krishnamurti spiritual understanding undercut all that; no institutions; no favoured methods; no dogmas or doctrines to be believed; beware of the known and the conventionally believed, only insight counts. I consider Krishnamurti to have been the greatest Bodhisattva of our time and I am happy in my memories of having met him personally, yet I cannot help noticing that, without his presence, his teachings, stored in video, audio and the written page have lost their immediate urgency now that there is no vehicle to proclaim them. In Chan, the lineage is the vehicle by which insight is passed down through time in the form of a living, vibrant person, full of failings maybe, but one who stands for the View and presents it afresh again and again. We need therefore to face up to the undeniable risk of divisiveness as soon as options are created by the pros ands cons of institutional policy. Can we do this? Do we have the skilful means? Unfortunately, sectarianism and the formation of cult-like clubs around certain Buddhist charismatics already promote the kind of divisiveness between institutions that Krishnamurti saw so clearly. As Ken Jones has argued in our journal, there is no point in not arguing one's case.8 Buddhism is corruptible and in the post-modern environment of sloppy New-Ageism only too easily so. Everyone nowadays can invent or put together their own blooming religion and fail to notice the self-indulgence that entails. Yet, in such debate, compassion is absolutely essential. Even fools have merit. Within a carefully crafted institution there remain risks. Yet I have confidence. After several of our retreats we have allowed a more communal and sociable atmosphere to arise- just being together on a walk or mountain pilgrimage for example. I have noted that the genuine tolerance and compassion, even love, that develops on silent retreats and during a WZR can still hold up, in spite of the re-emergence of individual idiosyncrasies, if supported by a programme that sustains a quality of space and silence allowing frequent private renewal. Assemblies geared to silence thus have a chance of developing a sociable mindfulness and community coherence that allows tolerance, understanding and friendship to be maintained and our actions to be guided by kindness and wisdom. The best of monastic models can inform us here. At least, this must be our endeavour. In the coming months I shall, be considering very carefully the way in which teaching and practice within the fellowship may be presented. We will experiment with differing forms of retreat and meeting while always anchoring our practice on the orthodox Chan retreat and the WZR. I realise more and more that all the Mahayana meditation methods spring from a common root. We need to understand this clearly so that nobody supposes themselves to be practising with a superior or inferior method. Once the family relationships between them are understood the whole meditative process can be seen as one historical sequence. Similarly Indo-Tibetan and Sino-Japanese teachings all have their roots in the same Sutras and, in spite of some divergences, again take the form of fruit of the same tree. I will endeavour to teach from this perspective giving a broad understanding of the Mahayana and using a variety of methods to help individuals build their most personally effective way of being. The history of Chan has been markedly eclectic. Syncretism has proven useful and the broad scope of the teachings especially helpful to those in the West who react against narrower sectarian approaches. Now that Chan has arrived in Britain we need not feel tightly restricted to particular forms so long as the essential core remains clear and vital. Such an approach will allow us not only to adapt to changing conditions without risk of fossilisation but also to renew again and again the source of inspiration itself. Forms are empty and from our insight into emptiness we create forms. So long as we are clear in our pivotal perspective our institution will thrive. John Crook Chu'an Teng Chien Ti 1 Goldstein,M.C. and P.Tsarong.1985.The Tibetan Journal 10.1.14-31. 2 Rommeleure,E. 1997.Guide du Zen.Les Guides Selene,Paris.See also the advertising columns in Tricycle and Shambala Sun among other publications. 3 New Chan Forum 13 and 14. 1996-7. 4 Crook, J.H. Authenticity and the practice of Zen. New Chan Forum 13. 1996 5 See the opinions of the yogin Geshe Ngawang Jugne in Crook, J.H. and J.Low.1997 The Yogins of Ladakh. Motilal Banarsidass. Delhi p138 6 New Chan Forum 9. 1994. 7 New Chan Forum.14. p26-29. 1997. 8 Jones,K.New Chan Forum 14.p24-25.1997 THE BIRTH OF THE WESTERN CH'AN FELLOWSHIP Simon Child About two years ago in NCF No. 12 John suggested the possibility of establishing an organisation based on the work at and attenders of Maenllwyd. My initial reaction, and I suspect also that of many others, was something like "well, it could be all right, but I don't like the idea of the formalities and organisation and committees etc." It seemed a bit unnecessary as everything seemed to work out fine as at it was. I expressed an interest to John to be kept informed, but didn't feel any great excitement about it all. Quite a while later John called a meeting at Maenllwyd of some people whom he thought may be interested in exploring this further; mostly those who were regular or long term attenders at Maenllwyd. The proceedings of that "First Assembly" were reported in NCF No. 14. I think that after meeting we all felt more interested in the possibilities that we discussed: developing fellowship amongst the "sangha" (something that has been lacking for Maenllwyd retreatants unless they live near one of the local groups), charitable registration for fund-raising and further developments, establishing an organisation that can continue to provide Chan training even as John grows older, etc. But even so we were drifting somewhat. We left without any definite plans for future progression of the ideas, we had no method of communicating with each other, and in fact I did not feel that we were a cohesive group. Clearly John knew everyone there, but we did not all know each other. Whilst I had been attending Maenllwyd regularlyfor about fifteen years, and some others had been doing so for longer, there were some that I had never met and others that I had met but only under retreat conditions of silence. A while later I received the minutes of the Bristol Chan Group committee meeting, and it was noted that John was concerned that he was pushing something that nobody really wanted. This set me thinking. We had come round to understanding what John was proposing, and feeling support for the idea, but we were not cohesive and organised enough to further it ourselves. The only common point between us all was John himself. So whilst it was true that he was pushing the idea it was also appropriate that he should be the leader and "pusher" at this point. I decided to gather these points into a letter and write to the other attenders at the first assembly. However, I didn't have everybody's address! In fact I had a rather old copy of the NCF mailing list, and I had some more recent addresses from when I had been distributing Reb Anderson's retreat tapes, but I could only contact about half of the group. I later obtained more addresses and was eventually able to write to everyone, and later John called a "Second Assembly" for February 1997. Whilst John was "pushing" it nevertheless seemed that I/we should do what we could to progress things. I found that the Charity Commission provide a good selection of leaflets on their rules, model constitutions etc. and I obtained and sent a copy of these to John. John Senior produced the constitution of another Buddhist organisation that we could refer to as a model. I think that the Bristol Chan Group had further discussions. No doubt others made other contributions that I do not know about. John Crook meantime had contacted Chris Jones (who is a solicitor who has attended retreats at Maenllwyd) and they had discussions on structures and constitutions. John by now seemed more comfortable with the idea that it was appropriate for him to be leading and pushing the enterprise at this point. He first invited applications for certain roles and then later (perhaps there had been little response) contacted some people to ask if they would be willing to take on certain roles in the organisation. He asked me if I was prepared to be secretary (subject of course to the vote of the others at the meeting). The Second Assembly was much more purposive right from the beginning. We had background reading material from the Charity Commission, and Chris Jones provided us with a summary of these and an explanation of the different forms of organisation that we could choose e.g. company, trust, or association. The trust had the advantage of being a more rigid structure which could protect us against corruption of our original aims if there were unanticipated developments in the future. However it might not be flexible enough to respond to necessary change (e.g. removing a disgraced teacher). An association had the advantage of allowing democratic input but had risks. For example that the organisation could be taken over by "entryism" with the newcomers outnumbering the original members and voting to sack a satisfactory teacher and to change the nature of the organisation (perhaps to gain control of valuable property or cash reserves). If we wished to register with the Charity Commission to gain the potential benefits of being a charity, principally tax relief on donations and fund raising, then it was required that we have a formal written constitution or trust deed, and there were certain requirements as to the contents of that document. Could we design an organisation that was accountable and democratic, but avoided the risks of a standard association? Chris and John had prepared a draft constitution based on the Charity Commission model for an association, with some safeguards against alteration in the future (e.g. extensions to the standard clauses that could not be altered without the permission of the Charity Commissioners, and careful drafting of definitions). We discussed this line by line and considered the implications of each point particularly in relation to the overall structure of checks and balances. At the end of the second assembly we felt much clearer about our intentions and how it was possible to achieve them. We decided to regard the Western Chan Fellowship (WCF) as founded from this point, based on the draft constitution as amended, but subject to tidying up and clarification of the details of the constitution by the committee. The committee found considerable further amendments were necessary, not to the overall intentions or structure of the WCF but to ensure that our constitution was effective in meeting our requirements regarding the checks and balances. The flowchart opposite shows some of these checks and balances built into the constitution. We have subsequently presented the final version of the constitution to the "founder members" for ratification, and this is now the official constitution of the WCF. Well that was the easy part, what happens now that WCF is formally established? We have applied to the Charity Commission for registration, and it seems that they will accept the constitution subject to some minor modifications. Soon the Fellowship can gradually take over some of the administration from John (e.g. retreat advertising/bookings) whilst retaining and employing John as teacher. As we are now a more cohesive group there can be more fruitful developments which have arisen from our discussions e.g. different kinds of gatherings such as the forthcoming two week Chan retreat (one week formal retreat and one week of community living after retreat) and the possibility of other events and group activities which can develop the sense of sangha. For myself I already feel much more that I am part of a larger world than previously when I just visited Maenllwyd occasionally for retreats. I have met my fellow practitioners more outside of silence, both on my attendances at meetings and at short retreats, I have stayed at other's houses when travelling, I have attended a weekend retreat in Bristol for the first time, and on a couple of occasions others have travelled considerable distances to attend day retreats of the group that I lead in Bury. I have had telephone, letter, and email contact with practitioners whom previously I have not met or who have only been silent faces on retreat. Already the expressed intention to develop a sense of sangha and fellowship has become a reality for me, and hopefully will do so for others as the WCF becomes more established and grows. Whilst John intends to be active for at least as long as Master Hsu-Yun (who continued teaching to the age of 119) there will come a time when John is not able to take such a large part. Hopefully our organisation will be mature enough and effective enough by then to ensure that Chan training, and particularly our distinctive flavour of Chan and Western Zen Retreats, can continue to made available to serious seekers even when John is no longer able to take a part in the activities. THE CONSTITUTION OF THE WESTERN CHAN FELLOWSHIP On November 2nd 1997 an assembly was held in Bristol and the Constitution of the Western Chan Fellowship, on which several of us have been working for months, was finally adopted. It has been presented to the Charity Commissioners so that hopefully we shall soon be registered as a charity. As the constitution is a long, legally worded, document we resist publishing it here. It is however available for anyone to peruse and, furthermore, will be sent to anyone who wishes to join us as a Fellow. Some of its main points are summarised here. The objects of the Fellowship are to provide training in Buddhist meditation, philosophical insight and precepts by means of the teaching, practice and transmission of the Chinese Linji tradition of Chan as transmitted through Master Sheng-yen. In addition the Fellowship will provide supplementary training in the meditation methods of Tibet and facilitate the investigation and study of Buddhist theory, psychology and practice in its relation to contemporary Western thought. The executive committee in furthering these objects has the following powers: * It has the power to appoint a Teacher who holds the lineage of Linji Chan transmitted to him or her either by the Venerable Sheng-yen or by a descendent of him by transmission in the lineage. In determining who should be a teacher the committee has the power to make various enquiries and to consult relevant authorities. The Executive Committee (EC) also has the power to dismiss a Teacher should that person be incapable of performing duties, fails to perform them, fails to sustain the precepts or abandons the tradition. * Subject to the approval of the Teacher, the EC has the power to arrange retreats and to publish journals including works in electronic media. It may also organise a library, pilgrimages, local groups and the training of local group leaders under the supervision of the Teacher. It may also raise funds, buy or lease property and arrange various other matters. * The Teacher shall provide an authentic interpretation of the Chan tradition of Buddhism and may make use of and also teach other Buddhist and Western methods appropriate to Buddhist understanding. He/she will supply a programme of retreats and projects which he/she will conduct personally although some events may be delegated to other teachers suitably qualified. The Teacher will also arrange a programme of instruction for practitioners wishing to teach others and provide written authorisation for those qualified. This authorisation will remain in effect while the holder remains in training with the charity and can be cancelled by the Teacher for good reason. The teacher will also provide individual advice and guidance for Buddhist practitioners whether fellows or not and present event specific liturgies providing practitioners with opportunities to take precepts etc. * Membership (Fellowship) is open to any person (over 18) interested in furthering the objects upon payment of an annual subscription (œ25) and who has completed three retreats with the charity (including one WZR and one Chan) or has other equivalent experience. A Fellow must also have taken Refuge and follow the basic Precepts of Buddhism. A fellow will be expected to practice Buddhism and to attend at least one retreat organised by the charity in every three years unless unable to do so through age, injury or illness. Every Fellow will have one vote at the AGM and receive publications of the Fellowship. * The organisation of the Fellowship is similar to that of other such institutions with an Executive Committee of between 5 and 10 members elected periodically and retiring by rotation. Every year there will be an AGM at which appropriate elections will be held. * An Advisory Board will be appointed The names currently proposed include leading British Buddhists in the Chan and Tibetan traditions and two psychologists interested and involved in Buddhist practice. * The Venerable Master Sheng-yen is being approached with a request to be our Patron. A few comments on the above may be helpful. The programme of retreats as presented at the Maenllwyd and by the Bristol Chan Group will continue and John has been confirmed as our Teacher. The growing number of regional groups encourages the idea of providing training for leaders of these groups so that teaching of Chan may be raised to an effective and authorised standard, without however limiting the expression of Zen through the natural abilities of those concerned. The heart of the Fellowship's activities focuses on retreats taken by members of a diaspora of affiliated groups or cells. We believe this will provide a training in practice of a sufficiently intensive kind to make a real difference in the hearts and minds of participants: as indeed has been shown over the years at the Maenllwyd. The retreats are graded from those open to the interested public generally to others for which some prior training will be required. Fellows are retreat participants who, having become familiar with our training and practice, wish to join us in promoting the objects. Fellows are thus experienced practitioners who continue their life-long practice through training and involvement in our activities. To be a fellow is already a sign of some accomplishment in the Dharma and a willingness to persist in "the great matter". Past participants in retreats at the Maenllwyd may be approached with an invitation to consider applying for membership where this seems to be appropriate. Applications will be evaluated by the EC in conjunction with the teacher. We hope that many of our readers will wish to become fellows and the executive committee invites anyone with appropriate qualifications to apply. You may write either to Simon Child, John Crook or Tim Blanc (see addresses at the back), whether you may have received any other communication concerning this opportunity or not. We believe that the fellowship will begin with something over fifty fellows. The Editors. PILGRIMAGE In the main part of this issue we have a number of articles and poems on the theme of pilgrimage. We would like to think our many contributors for their diverse accounts of spiritual journeys. INDIAN PILGRIMAGE 1996 Poems by Julia Lawless and John Crook. The "Grand Tour of Buddhist India", a major contribution to our pilgrimage programme, visited nearly all the major sites of Buddhist history and archaeology in India: Elephanta, Kanheri, Bhaja, Karla, Nasik, Ajanta, Ellora, Sanchi, Sarnath,Bodhgaya, Rajgriha, Kusinagara and Lumbini, just over the border in Nepal. Along the way we wrote notes and poetry some of which we record here. Julia has prepared a memorial for Brian Beresford in which her poems appear and which was read at the Buddhist Art Exhibition, Bristol October 1997. Prologue India, India Oh wonderful India - such a lovley place With baskets on heads And cattle on streets I hope it will be like this forever. India, India Oh lovley India, my very true place With monkeys playing And women washing I could surely stay here forever. Natasha Caitlin Lawless (age 9)1 I rather like Natasha's spelling of lovley and have retained it. Ed. Buddhist Caves Kanheri Dry leaves crackle in the arid dust. Azure blue butterflies drift in the languid heat. Ancient steps worn through centuries of habitation all deserted now to snakes and monkeys. Only the fragrance of the Japanese magnolia lingers it's twisted roots clinging to the bare grey rock. JL Bodhgaya Marble floors surround the Bo tree, birds' calls, deep shade and fluttering leaves. Was I ever anywhere else? Dusk falling buffaloes, wandered home, feed from large bowls fronting the houses. Old ashram doors open over a river of sand. Smoke stacks hiding brickwork fires belch in the night, old clay to new homes, empty time moving. Paradakshina slowly pacing footfall on marble soft swish of passing robes around the square mandala of the lamp-lit temple grounds one side, citywards, noisy, the other not. Nirvana and samsara come up and fade away as round and round I go. Deep in the ancient cell below massive stones candles weave shadows where the still image glows in the bright silence - no one moves. JHC Initiation He scoops some water from the river in a battered ladle, aluminium with a broken handle, then, squatting on the deck, he sets it on the flame of a tiny bunsen-burner no bigger than a candle. Brown leaves ground to dust through poverty, he brushes the precious powder into a thermos flask... the rest shipped out in casks depicting saffron saris. "Who will drink some chai?" He passes me the mud brown liquid, all spice and sugar gathered once green from hills above Darjeeling now steeped in sweat and ashes: bloated corpses locked in stagnant eddies or bodies burning on smooth broad steps, where, in full view, you wash your laundry ..my dirty sheets.. while cattle wade through iridescent pools of oil and at first light your devotees meet. Mother India, condensed into a tea cup for convenience. Offered here, unceremonially.. life blood of the Ganges, heart of Asia for a thousand years: 'one taste' of eternity. JL Calcutta Today a thousand eyes met mine sitting in my high bus chariot viewing this mouldering city of cheerful faces, Bengali smiles monsoon washed with brown-eye brilliance down by the river throwing images of Durga into the rising tide. The bats are out in the darkening sky flamed rose and misted by greying dusts. Sitting on the swept pavement for their evening meal this small family feeds from brass bowls gleaming, our morning's gift. From our high balcony we saw them mother washing kids in the light of dawn folding the canvas awning of their shelter preparing another street-wise day. Seeing us far above them, Olympians, the children waved. No way could we not respond. Mother smiled, her pride a way of life Calcutta time. JHC PILGRIMAGE TO KAILAS: The Holy Mountain of Western Tibet. John Crook If a mountain trek may be described as an "epic" this surely was it. Almost every anticipated hazard and difficulty was encountered together with several that were unexpected. The plan was to enter Tibet by way of Humla (N.W Nepal) during a window of opportunity between the ending of the monsoon and the onset of the Tibetan winter. In 1997 the winter came early and caught us nicely exposed on the plains around Kailas and Manasarovar. As a consequence of the severe weather with snow around the mountain the yak men declined to take our equipment over the Dolma la since snow on the rough descent on the far side might lead to the yaks breaking legs. This meant we were unable to fulfil our aim of circumambulating the mountain. We did however succeed in placing the ashes of Lord Ennals and the hat of Bryan Beresford at the Dolma rock on the top of the pass. This was a prime function of my personal expedition and of several of the clients. A break in the weather had suggested a window of opportunity. Several of us walked up to the cairn at Drirapuk where the Sherpas did ser.kyem and others made offerings, mantras etc to the mountain, the remarkable north face of which appeared splendidly before us. This had been a long approach walk and I for one was very tired by the time I reached the cairn. I knew I would not have the strength to go on to the top of the pass that day. As the weather stayed improved I allowed Alec Lawless, our strongest walker who was keen to go, to make an attempt at reaching the Dolma rock on the top of the pass to leave Lord Ennals' ashes and the hat of Brian Beresford there. He set off after emotional hugs from the group. Sangye Sherpa, who had done the route before, accompanied him. I had a worrying four hours until Alec and Sangye arrived back in camp at dusk having completed their mission under very tough conditions, racing back to get in before daylight failed. I had felt like a Commanding Officer who had ordered men into action and didn't know whether they would succeed against the odds. Theirs was a fine effort allowing us to claim one success for the expedition. On returning we had seen four men descending the track on the far side of the river carrying a kind of stretcher. It looked as if they were bringing a body down. And so it turned out. Two Germans, apparently without a guide, had succumbed to exposure on the Dolma la the night before. Police had visited our camp while we were away checking on us. I was relieved when all of us were in camp again. The return trek into Nepal over the enormously intimidating Nara Lagna la proved hazardous with snow on the narrow track above steep precipitous slopes. I was extremely concerned lest a single slip or mis-step cause a damaging fall to an inexperienced trekker. I myself had the scariest few hours I can remember for many a year. Fortunately it was a bright day with sunshine. Had there been ice on the track I doubt whether we could have crossed the pass without accident. Even the sherpas remarked that it was dangerous for Western trekkers- especially rather elderly ones however fit. In spite of being a very heterogeneous party, morale was sustained throughout although some four members were very disappointed at not completing the kora, - even though three of these were not fit enough to attempt it. Most members had read little before coming, had little interest in the cultural aspects of the tour and were somewhat taken aback by the ferocity of the Tibetan climate and the demands of the trek but most greatly enjoyed the walking and responded well to the risks inherent in the adventure. The scenery was outstanding throughout and some of the walks the most wonderful I have personally experienced and well appreciated by the group. The temples at Tsaparang and Toling were formidably impressive. As trek leader I gave two lectures on history, Buddhist art and thought and a guided tour of the mural paintings at Tsaparang and Toling and could have said more but was somewhat disappointed by the apparent lack of interest in such matters within the party. Even so all members appreciated the magnificent scenery and weathered the alarming, anxiety provoking and sometimes downright scary times well. I was indeed quite impressed by the philosophical attitude to their adventure which became general in the group. This is not to say that there were not times when most of us would have preferred to have been back home in a warm bed! This was not a demonstrative group of people. Private in their feelings and attitudes I none the less sensed that the experience of hardship on this adventure meant a lot to them and that they were encouraged by their own fortitude and resourcefulness. On our return trek we stopped for lunch at Yangar Gompa and some of us with two sherpas visited the Rimpoche. He was very sympathetic regarding our trials in Tibet, saddened by the news of the Germans' deaths and impressed by our attempt at the kora and by the fact that we had left memorials on the top of the pass in spite of the conditions. He remarked that many great sages and spiritual persons had come to Kailas throughout history. When there is real spiritual intent there are always difficulties. The purpose of the kora is purification from the past so that one returns "reborn" in life. Often purification is difficult and this is expressed through encountering obstacles, sometimes inner, sometimes outer. What counts is then the way one struggles with obstacles. The Rimpoche told us that the way we had striven on the mountain more than outweighed our failure in not completing the circuit. Often indeed this struggle completes the purification itself, he said. We should not feel that we had failed but rather nobly succeeded. He was amused at the idea that we had done half a Buddhist kora and half a Bonpo one - thus making a full circuit with two aspects. Even sages with great wisdom never had an easy time on Kailas, he said. Only through such experience did they reach ultimate wisdom. He wished us well. As for me: I am deeply grateful for the experience of leading a group with whom I had rather little natural empathy but which I came to respect in their individuality and own right. I learnt that leaders cannot choose who they lead and must adapt to whoever they are placed among. My main resolve was to sustain a friendly distance and a tactful response to all and to sustain morale when difficulties appeared. Although often quite anxious about weather conditions and their implications, the vehicle problems and the Nara Lagna pass I kept this from the party and pretended a greater optimism than I sometimes felt. "You came for an adventure and now you have one!" was a useful refrain. This seems to have been effective and appreciated. Client briefings in some detail were held every morning after breakfast at the same time as a sweet distribution. Sometimes the Sirdar was also present. The actual trek in Humla was a demanding and a wonderful experience in country of exceptional grandeur. Tibet showed its fierceside which I knew about but had not experienced so directly. I thank Himalayan Kingdoms for offering me this opportunity. [Mount Kailas, photo by John Crook] WAITING FOR PORRIDGE Alec Lawless Looking back through the diary I kept on the Kailas pilgrimage I realise that there are many ways to describe the journey. The logistics, geography, geology, group dynamics, cultural, historical and anthropological sides could all make interesting and valid reading. However, the quality of subjective experience is what distinguishes a pilgrimage from other kinds of journeys. I have done several pilgrimages before but this one was quite different from the others. Firstly, the physical hardship was for me extreme and secondly one cannot decide to undertake a trip of this magnitude and be assured of success. There are too many variables which are totally outside of one's control (aren't there always I mutter to myself but somehow it was more obvious on this trip). Due to a five-hour flight delay we missed our connecting flight so arrived in Kathmandu a day late. I was suffering from cramps and diarrhoea courtesy of Pakistani Airlines. After preliminaries the conversation turned to the possibility of getting to Simikot from where we start the trek. Due to low cloud and the location of the airstrip at 9,400 feet it was only possible to land under favourable weather conditions. We heard many stories of parties waiting for several days or having to charter a helicopter at vast expense - others had even decided to try and drive in by a totally different route. The symbolism of what we were attempting to do started working for me at this point. I started building up an image of the path starting high in the mountains and the Gods would need to be with us if we were even to get that far. If we had to wait too long then our whole itinerary would need changing. We flew to Nepalguni from where the plane to Simikot would leave. I was sitting near the front in the 16-seater plane and could see from the altimeter that we were cruising at 8,000 feet above the plains. I was amazed to think that the airstrip was higher still. I spent a difficult night at Nepalguni. The atmosphere was humid, the bed damp and I lost count of the number of visits I made to the loo. At the airport we were told that the scheduled morning flight to Simikot was unable to land due to cloud cover. After an incredible flight on our chartered plane amongst cloud and mountain peaks we spotted the airstrip on a slope below. We landed amongst cheers and clapping and I'm sure we all felt the same elation that I did. After meeting our team the pack animals were loaded up with our gear and we set off. We walked for about four hours to the first nights camp. Just as I was arriving my cramp got the better of me and I shit myself - not really in control at all. Luckily there was a river by the camp and I was able to clean myself up. For the next few days we walked towards the Tibetan border. I was very pleased that we were able to walk at our own speed as this allowed space to experience the mountains and find the most comfortable pace. I loved being in the mountains. Everyday cares from my life faded and my mind became quieter than usual - I only had to walk. The smells in the mountains were wonderful. The scents of wild herbs and cannabis would mingle with the smell of pack animals, paraffin, pine and wood-smoke from villages. The days were sunny and the nights mild. Over the first few days I had established myself as the fastest walker. I was the second youngest in the group and am of lanky proportions. I had two dreams at this point, both were sporty (no not spice), and I decided that I was being too competitive about the walking. I decided to walk in company which I tried the next day but longed for space to experience the mountains fully. From then on I walked at my own speed again but tried to be mindful of my competitive trait. I also started noticing the altitude - getting short of breath, headaches and not sleeping well. We spent one night camping by a Nyingma Gompa. I enjoyed being silly with the young monks. They enjoyed my binoculars. I was struck by there taking turns with them patiently and their quickness in understanding how to focus them. This would not of struck me at all if their behaviour was not such a contrast to that of children in villages that we had passed through already on the journey. In the evening I made a small fire and sat up late watching shooting stars. I hardly slept a wink and felt dreadful in the morning. Porridge helped to bring me round and walking raised my energy. The following night we made camp on a barren plane above a river bed it was cold, windy and started to ruin as the tents were going up. Very pleased to get into my bag after supper. I woke up at about 4 a.m. and my right eye was stuck closed, as I opened it an old tear on the surface opened up again. I have had this problem (recurring corneal abrasion) several times and the cure is to keep it lubricated and both eyes closed for three days whilst it heals. This was hardly practical and the alternative is extremely painful. I wondered about going back to the Gompa a days walk away and waiting for the party to return. I put my damp and cold clothes on and packed my bag, my eye was sore and streaming. I used eye drops and put my sunglasses on to give some protection from the light. After breakfast there was a long climb during which I had my first experience of bliss I cried with joy as I became more acutely aware of the mountains and out of my tears emerged my life Koan. The soreness of my eye dominated my experience for the next few days, which involved some very difficult walking. The first view of Tibet from the top of the last pass was exhilarating and I was able to feel the silenceand the place for some moments before starting the descent. The final 3,000ft. Descent to the border went on and on and I dreaded having to walk back up on the way home. Our vehicles arrived to meet us at the border and we drove to Purang where we were delayed by Chinese officials consequently we did not have enough time to drive to lake Manasorova and camp as planned. We camped en route at 15,000 ft. At bedtime I started having trouble breathing. When I relaxed in order to sleep my breathing slowed down and I found myself so short of oxygen that I had a panic attack. I sat up and took about thirty deep breaths and lay down again - the process repeated itself. I felt like I was on the verge of fainting and was worried about becoming unconscious. I can honestly say that this was the worst night of my life. I sat up all night doing deep breathing, my eye was acute with soreness and stabbing pains and I was freezing, as my bag was not warm enough. The night appeared to go on forever as I waited for morning and porridge and the possibility of at least getting warm. I tried to let go into sleep a few times but I was too frightened. After breakfast at a cool -8 C we drove to Lake Rakshasta and saw Kailas for the first time. It was a moving and beautiful sight but I was feeling too pathetic to be very receptive. The next few days were spent visiting Tsaporang and Toling. When we returned to this part of Tibet to attempt the walk round Kailas the weather had changed from clear sunny days to snow and poor visibility. It was now very doubtful if it would be possible to do the kora. There were some very poor walkers in our party and it would not be possible for them to ride yak in the snow. We had been told that heavy snow had fallen and it was not possible to walk round the mountain. The best we could hope for was to get up to the top of the Dolma-la pass. The pass is considered to be sacred by the Tibetans and many tokens are left there by or for people hoping for good rebirths. It is also the place were pilgrims leave tokens of value to themselves as an offering and where one is supposed to symbolically die before being re-born. I was very keen to get to the top as I had two tokens that I had brought for the purpose - Brian Beresford's hat and a portion of Lord Ennals ashes in a House of Lords envelope. Two nomads arrived on the morning of the attempt with the agreed number of yaks to carry our equipment as we attempted the kora. After loading them up we set off in poor visibility and light snow. After only three hours walk we made camp. By this time the sky was clear, it was sunny and we had a beautiful view of Kailas. I felt frustrated that we had stopped so soon as we could have walked for longer and camped closer to the start of the climb. It turned out that the yaks needed to graze and further on there was too much snow. Some of us climbed to a nearby Gompa where many nomads had gone for the day and we joined them in their circumambulations. The following morning some of us left to attempt the climb up to the Dolma-la. After I had walked for about 3 hours I stopped at the agreed place for lunch and waited for the others. The walk had been almost level along the valley bottom but was made difficult by the altitude (approx. 16,000 ft.). There was a cold wind and the visibility was moderate - the top of Kailas was hidden in the clouds. Just before the lunch stop I had a moving close encounter with a lamergeier. The group was very spread out by now and we were all quite tired. After lunch John decided that only one of us was strong enough to attempt the climb and asked me if I felt like having a go. We were probably about two hours walk from the top which involved a 3,000 ft. climb we then had to get back to the tents before dark. I was feeling very strong and determined to deliver my parcels so I set off with one Sherpa - Sangye. The parting from the rest of the group was very moving. I was given tokens to deliver and much hugging took place. I did not feel any envy or animosity from anyone but only heart felt good wishes, which was very inspirational. The climb started almost immediately. I became very aware of the space in the mountains and in my mind and it filled with love. I was still feeling emotional from parting with the rest of the group but I also had a second close encounter - with two chi-chi (marmots) which reminded me of my wife and daughter. We had had a family encounter with marmots in France. Inner and outer started to merge and outer events were becoming symbolic statements about my inner processes. I mused how love was difficult like the climb. We reached a steep boulder strewn slope, which was covered in items of clothing abandoned by pilgrims, pieces of which were visible above the snow. It felt like a surreal battlefield still covered in corpses. It was now snowing and we climbed into a cold wind. It was getting progressively more difficult and I needed to stop more and more frequently for breath. I did wonder more than once if I could make it. I put my head down into the wind and walked. As I was crossing a puddle the clouds parted and the reflected sun shone in my face feelings of bliss arose. My determination increased - I was very aware of being an emissary for the group and of having Brian's hat and David Ennals ashes. I wept when I thought of Brian and the tragedy of his early death. During the last part of the climb I was taking two long deep breaths for each step and moving very slowly. As we got to the top Sangye looked at me and said, "you're a very strong man". I didn't actually feel like it at that point but his kindness and Asian sincerity moved me. At the top of the pass there was a large rock decorated by dozens of prayer flags beneath which were piles of tokens. Bottle green glacial ice was visible on a rock face across a ravine. I was aware that this ice could have been there for thousands of years. This gave an eerie feeling of remoteness, which turned somewhat quizzical when I pulled the House of Lords envelope from my bag. Curiouser it got when the clouds parted and the sun shone. We each made an arrangement of our tokens and said some prayers. I was too short of breath to sing. We stayed for about twenty minutes did one circumambulation and left. It was easier walking down hill but there was a cold wind and the snow had covered our tracks. We had to walk fast to get back to camp before dark. It took us four hours to walk back. We only stopped three times for five minutes. As we approached the camp the last bits of colour in the sky from the sunset were barely visible. Across the river we saw some figures as we got closer to them I recognised them as others of our Sherpas. The head Sherpa Dawo took my arm and also told me that I was a very strong man. I did have a sense of achievement but it was about to increase. I then went to find John in his tent and report back. He was very pleased to see me and even gave me Greek kisses. During my absence from the group the Chinese authorities had brought down the bodies of two Germans. We never discovered exactly what happened but we know that they did not have a guide and therefore probably got lost and exhausted. The trip was now over for me and I was eager to get back to soft warm beds, dry clean clothes and food of my choice. The journey back was quite tricky in places due to snow. Frost at night was to continue until we were well inside Nepal. I had also picked up a chill in one of my teeth due to heavy breathing of cold air this caused an infection, which spread up the side of my face and made several other teeth sensitive. I was very pleased to have four days resting in Kathmandu rather than having to fly back immediately. It seems funny in retrospect to have had so many physical problems on the trip and the Dolma-la seems like a dream. I did discover though that the illusion of choice is what makes life difficult. If there is no choice the mind is curiously free, settled and simpler. It was similar to doing a retreat - to voluntarily put oneself through extreme difficulty and to question why one does it. Would I do it again? - Only if I felt like it. DEFUSING AN ANCIENT CURSE: CLIMBING THE HILL OF THE HAG Ken Jones Among the glens, bogs and lochans of the western Highlands of Scotland the dividing line between the natural and the supernatural is thin indeed. Beside Loch Shiel A dagger and a ram's skull in the summer tanglewood no birds sing. That was the explanation why, several years previously, we had camped overnight on the trackless shore too weary to go further, yet each gripped by too much inner terror to communicate it to the other. That night we were tossed by identical nightmares. Unknown to us then, there was that curse in the wood, only a hundred yards away sitting atop the wall of a ruined cabin, the one grinning and the other rusty. This time, Noragh was able to get down to some ancient Irish and Scots Gaelic anti-curse procedures... But no way would she let me go back into the wood to have another look. Later, in the ascent of Beinn na' Caillach -- the Hill of the Hag, we had a more down-to-earth encounter with Celtic myth. Our base was in Knoydart beside Loch Hourn -- the loch of Hell. It is a snug little bothy of a place, running on paraffin and peat: In the pine lined room twin beds tongue and groove The day began fine, with a perfect reflection of the trees that cling to the steep lochside spring-green in the sunlight. With our host at the tiller, we putter the nine miles down this sea loch between tall mountains and steep glens: no roads, no houses, no people, only the occasional ruined cabin. Our wake sweeping the narrow waters of the loch morning calm At a six figure map reference, Wading ashore the loch cold in my left wellie Thence following a roaring burn up steep through heather, bog and tussock, we reach a rough plateau, the crag-bound gathering grounds of many streams, each eventually making its passage this way or that. Above bogs and lochans through snow and mist the Mountain of the Hag She is protected to left and right by steep cliffs and the only approach is over her nose, over black "boiler plates" and tumbled rock. Scrambling the last few yards we discover that The Hag is dignified by a rounded well built summit cairn, now fast disappearing in mist and snow. We have, however, safeguarded our way back through this blinding wilderness. Coming off the misty Mountain of the Hag our line of marker stones However, even the lower slopes are now full of whirling confusion. We stare through the mist, trying in vain to discern any outlines recalled from our ascent. White out -- now only the compass needle has anything to say Back down on the tumbled plateau, "I don't remember this. Do you?" "Me neither!". Nothing appears familiar. A lochan that should be on our return route suddenly is. Glory be! The Caillach relents. On the map Raindrops smudge my little arrows Finally off the plateau, the mist thins and the loch is visible hundreds of feet below. On the loch shore a sheep peacefully asleep on a rock. It is dead. The pick-up is well timed... slithering across the seaweed... brewing tea in the galley. And at last, at the end of the day, In soft lamp light starched sheets folded back. A Eucharist on the Ganges Iris Tute During our recent trip to India we spent one whole day in a rowing boat being taken down river to Banares. We had an early morning start from a sandy beach clutching our picnic boxes and water bottles to sustain us through the day. Blazing sunshine mellowed and warmed the coolness of the morning as we embarked to the amusement of the village onlookers. The river Ganga or Ganges is for Indians the mother of all rivers. Her life is full of mystery from oldest times. The significance of this river through the centuries is a symbol of renewal, birth and death, a vehicle to transport souls from "here in the living world to there, in the hope for the release of the spirit from endless rebirth." Its clear sources originate high in the Himalayas from mount Kailas (representing the spiritual heights) through the vastness of the Gangetic plain (where most ordinary men live). It collects and carries with it aspects of the every ongoing life cycle in the most vivid way amongst all rivers. To be cremated on its banks, especially in Banares, is the most treasured wish of many devout Hindus, unless you died of smallpox, leprosy or a snake bite, are a child under the age of 6 or a pregnant woman. Under these circumstances you do not need the fire to free and purify you but your body is sunk into the middle of the river bed. The water is said to have very special cleansing qualifies not only for the body, but also for the soul. There are very few boats on this wonderful vast river and it felt special indeed to be in this traditional rowing boat worked by four boatmen for our little group of ten adults and one child. We stopped twice on our trip. Once on the bank of a small village said to be inhabited mostly by a dangerous tribe and we were not to leave the boat. We waited and watched as one and then an other of the boatmen disappeared to return with what appeared to be special blessings for our boat shown by flower garlands draped on the stern of the boat and a mark of red paint on their forehead. A steadily increasing group of children stared at us and played and we looked curiously at them somewhat shy taking the odd snap shot. Women were doing their washing as usual on the bank, clad in brilliant coloured saris and then fixing in no time a large bamboo stand on the sand, hanging their garments to dry in the breeze and the sun. The intense light, the vivid colours the mystery held all of us in its spell as we moved slowly on down the river. Next stop was on a large sand bank in the river to relieve our selves and then we were playing like children in the brilliant light on the sands. Coming back to our boat the boat men started making tea for us with Ganges water! It was boiled for a few minutes, had some herbs, milk and sugar in it and was shared out to all. There we sat in our rowing boat on a bench around the edge of it sipping this offering, knowing what the water contained of bodies, effluent and industrial toxins. We also knew about this river's exceptional properties to cleanse itself, to deoxygenate quickly. At that moment, when we put our lips to the little cups I was suddenly reminded of the meaning of a Eucharist in a different context of belief systems spanning over our globe. Most of us drank it in the spirit of trust, aware of the uniqueness of the moment. I felt aware of "one body of humanity" of which we were each one a minute part on our journey from conception to death and floating on this endless symbol of renewal and drinking of it. The brilliant sunshine around us reflected in myriads of particles of glistening sand seemed to penetrate everything, the landscape, the water and all of us. When I think about it now, I can still feel the glow of light in my heart. No one became ill as a result of drinking it. This was just one memorable moment of this wonderful trip of four weeks, full of many amazing memories. January 1997 SAI BABA -THE MAN OF MIRACLES Carol Evans In early 1989 Carol Evans undertook a solitary journey through India visiting a number of important ashrams in the course of a courageous spiritual adventure, her first, but by no means her last, in the East. In this excerpt from her narrative, of which we intend to print more later, she describes her encounter with an mysterious Hindu guru - the famous Sai Baba. We are grateful to Carol for allowing us to publish this fascinating piece. I was travelling from Shantivarnam, the ashram of Father Bede Griffiths, via the temple city of Madurai to Bangalore, thence to Goa for ten days rest and relaxation by the sea. I found myself almost by chance in a charming old Raj style hotel run by a very elderly Indian gentleman who had been a Sai Baba devotee for many years. Most of the hotel guests too, were either on their way to or coming back from Baba's ashram in Prasanthi Nilayam - a five hour bus ride away in Andra Pradesh - a long hot rough journey by all accounts. Sat Baba's devotees seemed to live in a state of fevered uncertainty concerning his whereabouts and in excited anticipation of a long-awaited private meeting with him. He gave random and unexpected interviews to people at his ashram - some had waited weeks, months or even ten years in the case of one unfortunate Indian couple. The general pattern at the Ashram was for people to wait each morning at 7 a.m. and again at 4 p.m., lined up in a huge open courtyard, amongst five thousand others (25 thousand on special days and his birthday) in often unbearable sunlight and just see him for five minutes or so as he gave silent Darshan, stopping occasionally to take a letter or a petition thrust at him (hundreds held out, a mere handful accepted). It was then also that he might say a few words to someone, grant a few personal interviews, allow someone in a wheelchair to be pushed in to see him, or ask a select group of devotees to come into his small inner sanctum for a meeting with him. People had travelled from all over the world to see him and I think he tried not to let large groups who had come, say, from Australia or America to leave without some personal contact with him. But it was all very uncertain and unpredictable. Sometimes he would take off for Whitfield his other centre at Bangalore and the thousands would be left to chant bajhans - sacred songs - alone in the courtyard while he was away; chanting was the main form of worship. Sai Baba never seemed to teach 'live' anymore but there were many books and tapes of his teaching for sale at the Ashram. Whilst staying at the hotel in Bangalore I read 'Sai Baba - the Holy Man and the Psychiatrist' and 'Sai Baba Man of Miracles' - written by two intelligent Westerners - scientists, talking convincingly and lovingly of a Christ-like yogi, who performed miracles, healed the sick, fed thousands (multiplying the food) and seemed not only to possess these remarkable siddhis but warm compassionate heart as well. I began to feel intrigued, and allowed myself to be persuaded by a young woman who came and shared my hotel room, that I should return with her to the Ashram from whence she had Just come. She had been a Buddhist for ten years and was now a fervent Sai Baba devotee. Curious and excited I felt this would a good opportunity to experience Hindu Bhakti - guru devotion at first hand. I made the long hot bumpy Journey with her, sharing a taxi, lived for four days in a stifling, uncomfortable room with three other women in the Ashram got bitten by ants and mosquitoes at night and sat in the huge courtyard before the very attractive modern Hindu temple amongst the thousands twice a day, as Sai Baba 'floated' past. He has a dour face until he smiles negroid features and a huge halo of black 'Afro' hair. His body is so small and light he barely seems to touch the ground and the heart lifts as he goes by on his slow, light, measured walk around the courtyard. I became aware of the sincere adoration he inspires in people but also of the dangerous over-dependency that Guru devotion can give rise to in many people. There was an air or passivity, of childlike dependency on the 'holiness', 'saintliness' 'miraculous gifts' of Sai Baba. Spirituality was projected 'out there' and totally located in him and I wondered to what an extent such total devotion didn't actually impede the personal growth of many of the individuals I met there. I'm sure some confronting personal contact with their teacher might have helped them move on from what I saw as this passive state of worship, but where such numbers are involved such contact must inevitably be rare. After two days of sharing in this rather passive waiting, longing. 'hanging about' state I decided I'd had enough, would make a bid to see Sai Baba next day. and if it failed, leave and continue my journey. On the following day, during darshan, I found myself, surprisingly, only four rows from the front, instead of 15, or 24 as on other occasions. As he passed fairly close to it he said, 'I will see the group from London today'. Well, I wasn't exactly 'a group from London' but I was a solitary lady from Wales! This was my opportunity, and with heart thumping, because it was a bit of a cheat, I joined the scattered group of about 15 people who gradually emerged from different sectors of the crowd, to cross the vast courtyard to go into his little inner sanctuary. As I approached it I was quite prepared to be turned ignominiously back, by Sai Baba, as his astute eye penetrated my subterfuge. The group from London all wore a kind of white uniform with blue sashes to distinguish themselves as a particular SaiBaba society and I stood out conspicuously in a long floral skirt and rose tee-shirt. The women sat one side of the room, the men on the other. I was cramped in a corner so crossed over and sat by the men where there was more space. Sai Baba pounced and gruffly told me this wasn't the lax West and to get back over with the women! That was the turning point - I felt that if he wasn't going to throw me out after that faux-pas I could relax and stay! Again in his close-up presence the energy was light and subtle - I felt it moving through my heart chakra and up to the crown as he talked and joked with the group about how their society was progressing. He knew some of the people individually and inquired about their personal lives and problems. His manner was kindly, gruff, humorous, and sometimes challenging. The woman leading the group was giggling nervously and excitedly a lot of the time: "Am I being so funny, why are you laughing all the time?" he asked. He still manifests sacred objects from time to time, but more rarely than in the past since he wants his devotees to concentrate more on his teaching and less on his miraculous powers. But as a gesture of welcome for us, he created before our eyes from his bare palms, a mass of sweet Indian fudge "it is pure butter ghee" he said, which he then distributed amongst us all, it was warm and melting on the tongue, sweet and delicious. These things are just produced from his body, no concealment possible without there being any plausible scientific explanation. He transcends the known laws of matter. Later he gave each of us many small packets of vibhuti - the grey sacred ash used for healing, which pours seemingly at will, from his fingers and palms. He materialised a small locket on a silver chain (with his picture) for a small girl who was present, but other than that no spectacular miracles. He then took us in, three or four at a time, to a small private ante-chamber and spoke individually to each of us about any help we might need. I told him about an ear problem I have had since 1983 which neither orthodox nor complementary medicine seems able to cure. He talked to me about my propensity to be anxious and to worry and described my ear complaint in more detail, telling me that if ever an operation was suggested not to have one and that he would give me his blessing to heal it. Six months later I still have my ear problem, but I did not have a great deal of faith that it would be healed and apparently if Sai Baba decides that an affliction is Karmic, he does not interfere. An important piece of information to put into the balance against my own experience was that he removed a cancerous eye cyst from an Israeli woman I shared my room with and that the day after I left, my friend from Bangalore informed me, a crippled girl in a wheelchair who had waited weeks to see him, was seen, healed and walked away. A strange, intriguing man, I still find him an enigma. There were the Siddhis, the power, there was wisdom and skilful means but I did not get that sense great heart compassion radiating out that I have felt in the presence of his Holiness the Dalai Lama, Lamas Yeshe and Zopa and others of the great Tibetan teachers. But on the other hand he is building schools, advising the Minister of Education, creating hospitals and health centres, lives simply and does not have a single Rolls Royce! He serves India in an immensely practical and caring way. He is beyond my capacity to judge. I consider myself fortunate to have met such a great man dedicated to being of spiritual and practical service both to India and to his thousands of western disciples. STILL PILGRIMAGE Some pilgrimages are made without moving, Avril Furneaux, Zen practitioner, has been on retreat in a Christian community near Brecon since 1995. She has sent us the following poems. IDLE DRONING Since earnestly studying the Buddhist doctrine of emptiness I've learned to still all common states of mind. Only the devil of poetry I have yet to conquer - Let me come upon a bit of scenery and I start my idle droning. Po Ch-I 772-946 SOLITUDE A day closing, Solitude - evening star Dropping suddenly Springtime walking Fine rain in the hills My gumboot's got a hole in it Sitting reading Shade tree above Sunlight filters through Wasp alighting. HUT IN WOOD Moonlit night Bare stem sprouting snowflowers here today gone tomorrow. Oh how wonderful! Pheasants land, clunk on the roof Early spring morning. Eyes lighting on the blue Attention - inside clouds Now Fox, pheasant, rabbit Footprints in snow, Same path? BRECON BEACONS Rose dawn, snow melting Mountain tops from my window Whitened overnight. Birds scratching, hard snow, Last night's scattered oatflakes Frozen breakfast treats. Walking up the lane New snow scored with birdprints Laugh - belly smiles. Further up the lane New snow scored with birdprints Cat paws joining in- ALSO No need to write it No need to say it So simple - shut up! Avril Furneaux CH'AN REVIVAL IN MAINLAND CHINA John Crook Chan Buddhism is undergoing a marked revival in mainland China. Monasteries are renewing their fabric and providing services to the public. Meditation is starting again for young monks in the Chan halls. In July 1997, with my old friend Yiu Yan-nang as interpreter, I visited two of the most famous monasteries in southern China and was surprised by what we found. When I entered China from Hong Kong the customs officer barely glanced at the visa in my passport. I had held my breath at the crossing point expecting all manner of difficulties to arise. I began to realise that the new China really is undergoing extraordinary transformations. Fearing police supervision at every stage, thought controls on all we spoke to, and a deep official suspicion of my Western face, I had been unconsciously awaiting the type of experience I had had in Moscow during the Brezhnev era. Instead, I found complete indifference to my presence. Gradually I realised I was free virtually to do whatever I wanted - except perhaps talk politics. We had arrived at Shenzhen, a brand new electronic city where, less than twenty years ago, only farmhouses had stood. Emerging from the glossy station we overlooked a central square in the centre of which stood a vast television screen showing advertisements and propaganda and blaring forth the loudest of pop music. Hoardings proclaiming "Come to Marlboro county" and "Carlsberg" suggested the spirit now abroad. Around them cruised innumerable taxis implying a lack of public transport but ample funds for car hire. From the square, huge canyons of multi-storey buildings, punctuated by stylish skyscrapers, lined treeless avenues stretching as far as the eye could see. The shops were full to overflowing with every sort of merchandise and thronged by eager shoppers. The waiting room for our train into China was a huge space filled to the brim with seated travellers. No sign of poverty here, everyone wore well-made relaxing, even sportive, clothing with good shoes and carried ample baggage. Children looked fit and jolly. During the whole of our trip we only saw one, equally neatly dressed, beggar and even he was hardly pressing his trade. As the train drew out of the city we saw no slums: endless suburbs of high rise buildings stretched to the horizon draped in a pall of polluted air. We were travelling soft-seat first-class. The train was not overcrowded although all seats were taken, often by whole families travelling as a group. Comfortable reclining seats lulled us and attendants moved regularly up and down the corridors politely even charmingly offering sweets, drinks and other delights. Air conditioning protected us from the inebriating humid heat of mid-summer. Nobody took any particular notice of us although I was the only Westerner on the train, so far as I could see. I revelled in the absence of attention, the quiet acceptance of myself as just another traveller and the stress-free self-contained attitudes of my travelling companions. Everyone was "minding their own businesses" in a manner quite unexpected to one trained in the ordeals of travel in India. Even in the restaurant car, where my handling of fish-bones with chopsticks left something to be desired, nobody looked my way or made a comment. Yan-nang too enjoyed the train ride saying how much things had changed in Chinain a mere five years. Capitalist competition was promoting good manners from officials and attendants alike and he much appreciated the improvement. As we crossed the Pearl River delta towards Guangzhou (Canton) we looked out on a strangely patterned landscape in which the suburbs of small towns mixed with paddy fields, lotus pools and duck farms in an almost continuous unstructured urbanisation. There were many factories and, along one stretch of the route, a sequence of huge cement works stretched for miles emitting copious quantities of fine white smoke. A thin smog generated a visible pollution greater than that I have experienced anywhere. Spreading out high over the landscape it combined with other sources of city and traffic emission to hide the blue sky of a naturally misty and humid air, The price of China's economic advance will be deeply costly to the quality of the environment and peoples' health within it. Throughout our trip birdlife was prominent by its almost total absence. Now and again fast trains roared by smoothly. The train from Beijing drew in while we were at Guangzhou station. The first class sleepers looked very comfortable if not luxurious and all spaces seemed to be taken. Even hard seat accommodation looked bearable to this veteran of Asian travel. Twice an extraordinary express rushed past, a double decker serving the line between Shenzhen and Guangzhou. The service will soon be extended to Hong Kong. Beyond Guangzhou our line followed the North River, one of three that disgorge to the ocean by way of the delta. Gradually the pollution lessened, the river ran more briskly and cleanly and tall monumental mountains like those on old Chinese scrolls emerged and gathered closely around the speeding train. Lulled by comfort and untroubled by my fellow passengers the trip was truly enjoyable. After some hours, pollution reappeared as we approached the mining and steel smelting town of Shaokuan. The newly developing city was again spreading far and wide over the surrounding countryside. Vigorously active but charmless streets lined by new multi-storey buildings carried little traffic. The taxi driver was politely intent to secure our services in the following days. He told us competition was intense. We drove out of town into the countryside, paddy fields and traditional village buildings appeared and, after a short time, we suddenly found ourselves confronting an enormous monastic archway, an impressive gated entrance to a compound of ancient tree-shaded buildings. We had reach our goal, Nan Hua Si, the monastery where the famous Master Hui-neng (638-713 AD) had settled to teach. Nan Hua monastery The most surprising thing about this marvellous monastery is the fact of its survival. Although the monks suffered grievously and one revered master died, the property itself, although decayed, has remained basically unharmed. Chou-en lai, had ordered its protection from the Red Guards then seemingly intent on destroying the entire heritage of China's extraordinary history. We owe to Chou-en lai the preservation of several remarkable sites within Chinese territory, including indeed the Potala at Lhasa. Beyond the entrance gate lies a beautiful courtyard surrounded by trees beyond which one can see the sprung roofs of ancient temples. A bridge leads over a pool to a large arch with halls on either side containing protective deities. The figure of Wei-tou stands in the centre of the arch and here devotees make their first offerings of joss sticks. The second court leads to a further archway pavilion. On either side the central entrance the deities of the four seasons, giant figures perhaps twenty feet high, glare down inspecting all those who enter. In the centre of the entrance passage sits the fat smiling Buddha so loved by the Chinese. Again offerings are made and one passes into the main courtyard of the monastery. The array of antique buildings here is magnificent. Although many people may be passing through the court at any one time, the scene is one of tranquillity and peacefulness. Small trees, potted shrubs and other plants are placed thoughtfully around a bridged central pool in which large goldfish rise from time to time to jump or gulp in air. Among the flowers huge swallow-tailed butterflies of several kinds drift delicately, braving the dangers of webs slung between twigs by spiders quick to respond in the warm air of summer. On either side the court stand two large pavilion towers, the one to the right containing an ancient bell dating from 1167 CE and the one on the left a huge drum, both used to assemble the monks for ceremonies. The facing temple is the main Buddha Hall of the monastery where major ceremonies take place. The impressive frontage raised along the back of the court extends for eight deep bays between tall columns. Great statues of the Buddha and two attendants, each some 25 feet high, reach to the ceiling behind an ornate altar and gaze down majestically on the officiants beneath. Around the walls, and, again reaching up to the ceiling, is an extraordinary mural decoration. A stucco cliff face filled with grottoes from which peer the figures of hundreds of Buddhist saints, masters and worthies, stands above a wave-rolling sea. The variety and ingenuity of the figures knows no bounds. The entire temple in the Qing dynasty style was reconstructed under the direction of Master Hsu-yun in 1936. The mural decoration enshrines the idea that from the bitter sea of life you can find a hand to help you ashore if only you repent. Behind the Buddha Hall lies a further courtyard of two levels culminating in a library above a hall of remembrance. Behind that, in a further courtyard, stands a vast pagoda of great beauty dating from the eighth century. It dominates the whole complex providing a focus from whatever viewpoint. Behind this, in a further temple, one finds the embalmed statue of Master Hui-neng.1The whole complex rises from front to rear so that as one ascends there is a feeling of progression in depth. When we explored the woodland at the back of the whole complex we found a stream gushing from a spring and an unfinished temple dedicated to Master Hsu-yun to whom the preservation of the monastery is due. Our taxi driver took us round the back of the buildings and stopped outside the door of the Guest master's office, a roomy building with statues, heavy Chinese furniture and small buros opening off it. A tiny monk received us. Although we found him off-hand at first, he soon warmed to us, showed us to a large air-conditioned bedroom, gave us various instructions for our stay and finally presented us with several books in Chinese and English all, interestingly, printed in Hong Kong. Later he showed us round the complex and told us much about it. Although of great antiquity, the monastery has had a chequered history with periods of affluence alternating with times of stagnation and decay. The original foundation by the monk Zhi-yao San-zhang followed his discovery of this beautiful place below the spring of Cao-xi river in 502 CE. When Hui-neng began teaching here after his years in hiding following his secret transmission of the patriarchs robe and bowl, the monastery achieved fame and was reconstructed.2 Later however it again fell on hard times. In 1601 CE Master Han-shan arrived at Nan-hua and found that the nine-hundred year old monastery had been converted into a meat market. "Squealing animals were being slaughtered, dressed and butchered. Stinking piles of worm infected guts filled the stately courtyard"3 The few resident monks did nothing to stop the profanation so Han-shan approached the Viceroy of the province for aid. This was forthcoming and Han-shan went on to do major construction and repair work re-establishing the fame of the monastery. He himself was a remarkable patriarch and his revered statue stands together with others in the monastery. The present reconstruction and preservation of ancient relics is due to Master Hsu-yun who having collected funds repaired the ravages of decay in 1934. Although it was the prestige of this Master that probably caused Chou-en lai to preserve the buildings, various outrages none the less occurred. In one chapel we found the white marble statue behind glass of the revered Master Wei-yin. A photo beside the statue reveals a face of profound compassion and sweetness. He was beaten to death during the Cultural Revolution. The present abbot, Master Fo-yuan, now in his late eighties, was also severely treated but survived. Hsu-yun himself was beaten and only a miracle seems to have kept him going at a very advanced age (112 years) - eventually dying at 120 years in 19594. We were surprised by the excellence of our air-conditioned accommodation. A whole flanking wing of the complex comprises second floor dormitories opening off a gallery each containing four large hard beds, rush covered and equipped with soft duvets. We had one of these for our use. Along the gallery and outside the doors of several occupied rooms were stacks of paper money for offerings to Buddhas and local deities. The monastery was visited by many tourists and devotees who stayed overnight in accommodations of varying quality. Many devotees came to make use of the ceremonial authority of the monks in offering prayers and other services for the dead. Veneration of ancestors remains deeply embedded in Chinese life and benefits for the dead may be secured by burning offerings of paper money and other paper objects ritually in the large incinerators placed around the monastery. We felt that ceremonies of this sort must yield a substantial income for the monastery. Here the great tradition of Buddhism meets the ancient folk religion, itself a mix of Taoist practices, old superstitions and ancestor worship. The offering of these services in the august atmosphere of the monastery was clearly a source of considerable spiritual nourishment for the common people. Who were these? Mostly ladies of a very well-off appearance, business women of undoubted skill, independent minded persons very much the equal of men. This freedom of women must be one of the positive results of the Communist years. In the guests dining hall these ladies showed a great interest in us. They were extremely friendly, willing to help us in every way and to show us the inner workings of the monastery. They had considerable influence and through their kindness we met several leading monks and were twice driven in the monastery station wagon over to Yun men Si later in our stay. Each devotee has a "shi-fu" or master who is a spiritual advisor and to whom they give financial gifts. It seems these donations are quite unspecified, no fees are asked, rather one gives whatever one feels is appropriate. Judging by the willingness of the "shi-fus" to help the ladies we had little doubts that the formers' income could be quite substantial. There was no doubt about the genuine devotion of these lay believers to the Dharma, the Precepts, to their teachers and to the ceremonial rituals they enthusiastically supported. While we suspected one monk of avaricious motives, others seemed generous and open hearted in this curiously balanced relationship. We had a problem paying our accommodation bill because the same system operated. It was difficult to get an idea of how much we should pay. Nobody would tell us, saying it was up to us. Using several contrasting modes of assessment we hoped the sum we eventually handed over was appropriate. For groups of tourists there is however another system whereby fees and receipts are exchanged. One of our charming acquaintances offered to introduce us to her "Shifu". One evening therefore we met a burly young monk in his room. As the conversation developed and became a little technical, the ladies excused themselves and left us to it. The Venerable Zhen-de Shi began cautiously but soon began to talk freely as he saw the depth of our interest. He felt that the spiritual condition of the monastery remained poor. It was difficult to get good teaching and although materially the monastery was well off he doubted the quality of life led by the monks. Before meditation could become an important part of monastic life again, proper attention had to be paid to the Precepts, to a compassionate and tolerant life style free from petty corruption. Yes, the Chan Hall was used for meditation and there were serious winter retreats. However less than a quarter of the monks actually used the Chan Hall. Most were concerned with other tasks around the monastery and the offering of rituals to supporters. In terms of Chan these things could not alone promote much in the way of spiritual development. This was a Dharma-ending age, Zhen-de told us, and the best one could do was to preserve and perhaps develop basic values. He described how a Korean Master had visited the monastery with a large group of disciples. They had met with the monks for retreat. The teacher had suggested they should all solve the koan "What is it?" and to demonstrate he had held up a cup and shouted "EEEK - This is it! What else?" Zhen-de said that everyone had been confused and that, as head monk at the time, he had had to challenge the Korean master. He argued that such teachings were all very well when many monks were close to enlightenment through intense practice and the influence of great teachers but in China today that was nowhere the case. They had to begin with the fundamental teachings on the spiritual life as enshrined in the Four Vows and the Precepts. Zhen-de had himself undertaken a three year solitary retreat and admitted that where a monk devoted himself to such a practice spiritual discoveries could be made which might provoke the appearance of new enlightened teachers. He added however that things were very "difficult" and we took him to mean that opportunities for serious practice and teaching might be restricted. I was keen to explore his personal practice. He said he repeated the name of Buddha over and over; "Amitabha Amitabha Amitabha" continuously until a shift in awareness overcame him. I was interested to see this mantric Pure Land practice adopted as the activity in retreat of a Chan monk. I enquired whether he ever used the koan "Who is repeating Buddha's name?" He did not reply directly to this, remarking only that the sincere meditative repetition of the name did in itself induce clarity and purity. Master Hsu-yun had also considered such practice important. Zhen-de said it was an effective practice when carried out with devotion. Some older monks however had koans or other methods which they had used earlier in their lives. Everyone could use their preferred method when sitting in the Chan Hall, Zhen-de affirmed. He also remarked that simplicity of mind was an asset and that northern and southern monks differed in this respect. Northerners, among whom he counted himself, come from the poverty stricken regions of China, are used to dogged survival, and make good use of simple practices which work. Southerners, in their agriculturally rich homeland, can be devious, looking for short cuts or using complex methods for which there are no teachers available. The result can be a mental muddle. The Chan Hall at Nan-hua Si lies to one side of the main courtyards in a court of its own. The rooms of the monks are nearby. We sat twice in the cool dim atmosphere of this place. I was inspired to sit in so ancient a hall with five or so ancient monks. One old boy spent most of his time on his seat lolling over in slumber but he had been most annoyed, complaining bitterly, when the young disciplinarian had almost closed the door on him at the start of the hour long session. The monastic day begins at around five with knocking on a wooden board. This develops gradually until after some forty minutes the great bell begins sounding followed by the drum. Bell and Drum tower thunder forth their messages with increasing sound and speed as the monks and lay practitioners assemble in the Buddha Hall and stand in their respective ranks. In front of the altar a space is left for the leader of the ceremony. On either side of this there are rows of wooden boxes with an inclined top well padded for kneeling. Each person stands behind one. The chanting starts with the monks facing each other across the space. At times they turn towards the altar and bow or kneel on their padded boxes. The monks stand nearest to the Buddhas beaming down mindfully from above: lay practitioners wearing robes are placed at the end of the last row of monks and I was ushered to join them: after that come the laity without robes. The services early in the morning were deeply impressive. Some old monks had amazing faces like those on ancient Chinese scrolls. I was moved to think of the privations they must have faced during the years of oppression. Young monks behaved with lively discipline not without tricks and teasing as mistakes were made in the conduct of liturgy. On one morning an extraordinary offertory was in progress instead of the normal morning service. A temporary altar covered in gifts of fruit and flowers stood outside the door of the Buddha hall and all the monks and laity faced it. The chanting was rich and finely done, rhythmically accompanied by wooden fish and bells. The donors were led repeatedly around the grand exhibition of their donations. The offering was to the "Heaven of all the Buddhas". I reflected on how strange it was that after years of Communist indoctrination this magnificent ancient ceremony full of religious superstition, the "opium of the people", should be treasured so deeply and offered with such devotion and expense. Yun-men Monastery Due to the kindness of our ladies and the willingness of the Guest master to please them, we drove over to Yun-men Si in the new monastery Toyota Landcruiser and, finding the place delectable, decided to return for a stay of several days. We drove over in the company of a senior Taiwanese monk very neatly dressed in elegant robes. He had a kindly professorial air well used to the deference of his juniors. He was visiting the area to see work being done on monastic buildings being partially financed from Taiwan. Yun-men Si is laid out in a pattern of courtyards and temples similar to that of Nan-hua Si. As with Nan-hua Si the monastery had been restored from decay through the activity of Master Hsu-yun in the 1930s. He was evidently fond of the place and one of his poems, the characters of which were translated for me by Yan-nang, reads: Yun-men monastery heaves into view deep Buddha's throne in a high mountain. Green fields spread widely, the pine forest glows dark green, deep copper-verdant bowl and red wooden fish are calling, the flying waterfall pushes up waves singing. Lovely fairyland! Come here to attain the Chan mind. The monastery was largely destroyed during the Cultural Revolution and we were amazed by the scale and the success of the recent reconstruction, a truly vast undertaking. The buildings, in modern materials, lacked the atmosphere of antiquity prevailing at Nan-hua Si but the welcome given us by the Guestmaster and the disciplined seriousness of the monks was very encouraging and we rapidly came to revere the place. We were given a small room with poorly functioning washing facilities. The hot humid air was cooled by a ferocious fan and we missed the quiet air-conditioning of Nan-hua Si. How quickly one becomes spoiled by such luxuries - none of which I had expected when we planned this trip. The Guestmaster was a young man of charm and energy who, to my surprise, had also undergone training in Tibet for two years. We were able to exchange a few words in Tibetan but our pronunciation differed so greatly and my vocabulary was so small that in no way could be talk directly together. Yan-nang too found his dialect of Mandarin difficult and they took to writing down characters from time to time to make things clear. Ming Shu Shi was a source of joy for with him we were able to talk seriously about meditation training in contemporary China. The Yun-men school of Chan has always been exceptionally disciplined and strict. Master Yun-men was one of the greats among Chinese masters and his inspired teaching, his rough edged methods of investigation and confrontational style still seem to keep the Yun-men monks on their toes. We found that not only was there a scholarly school of Dharma teaching in the monastery but that the Chan hall was the active centre for a group of young monks undergoing intensive retreats in winter and, at this season, carrying out regular daily sitting. There were three sorts of monks at Yun-men Si, the Sutra students in the Dharma school focusing mainly on scholarship, the precept monks who were practitioners of a pure life and sustained the administration and the Chan practitioners, specialists in meditation in their search for enlightenment. About a quarter of the monks belonged to this last category but unlike Nan-hua Si they were mostly new recruits and as keen as mustard, well led by men only a few years older than themselves. There were also some remarkable older residents who had survived the cultural revolution. These grand old men often led the ceremonies and their faces, again like those of the ancients depicted on scrolls, carried signs of extreme psychological endurance, courage and a zany kind of wisdom. These elders seemed to do their own practice apart. I spotted one alone in the woods behind the monastery standing by a pool reading a scripture with rapt attention. I arose early in the mornings and, wearing my robes, attended the morning liturgy. The chanting was more disciplined that at Nan-hua Si and the monks behaved with great decorum. With no comment I was simply placed appropriately in the ceremonial hall in accordance with the robes I wore. No discussion or especial notice was taken of me and again I found this to be a freedom from attention I greatly appreciated. There seemed to be a kind of unspoken respect for everyone's individuality that took the form of simply letting persons be. Yan-nang and I attended the Chan hall regularly. We must admit that this was partly because, due to its air conditioning, the hall was the most pleasant place to be in the hot humid heat of the sticky summer season. As at Nan-hua Si the large hall was square. A long bench extended around its wall and here the monks took their places for meditation. Behind the bench on two sides of the room were raised sleeping platforms for use during intensive retreat. To the right of the entrance was the place for the disciplinarian with bells and clappers for signals set close by. In the centre of the room a statue of the Buddha sat in a glass case and to him one bowed on entry. Behind the Buddha, non-residents, both monks and laity, could find places to sit on either side of a sort of booth for the abbot should he wish to attend. Morning, afternoon and evening sits were being held. As the clappers sounded monks hurried to the hall for fast walking round and round the Buddha. After some twenty minutes, when all the monks were present, clappers sounded and we all halted, going directly to a chosen place. This sorted out who was going to sit where; for there was no other ordering of places. One simply picked a vacant one and collected blankets to act as a cushion and another to cover one's knees. After a pause, sitting in our places with our feet to the ground, there was another ten minutes of walking until the clappers cracked again. This time one carefully arranged ones shoes below the bench and sat facing towards the room with legs crossed in the correct style. Another signal started the session which was to last one hour. The door was shut and bolted with an intimidating crash. During sitting, a disciplinarian slowly, silently and gracefully circled the room along a marked track about three feet in front of the sitters holding an "incense stick", that is the baton for striking shoulders, high in the air, one end pointing at his ear. Occasionally an individual was struck, seemingly on account of somnolence, but there was no requesting its use on a regular basis. One lad got a fit of giggling and, as he would not shut up, the disciplinarian approached his place, struck the stick on the floor before him three times and the lad had to descend and kneel before the Buddha for about twenty minutes before he was allowed to return thus chastened to his place. The room, which had been cooled by four large air conditioners during the rapid walking, fell silent as they were turned off and the hall settled into a profound stillness in which an occasional movement or fidgeting could be clearly heard. The muffled sounds of the monastery came in as if from afar through the walls. I found these hours a wonderful experience. To be sitting with the monks under disciplined training in these traditional halls was inspiring. I sat within a deep inner repose and the still happiness of silent illumination grew within me. The hour passed by as if it were only a few minutes and my body never complained at all. Yan-nang was not so fortunate. Troubled by wandering thoughts he found it difficult but, by persistence, he held out without moving for at least half an hour in each sitting. He stretched his legs out for a few moments and then resumed meditation. The disciplinarian did not object and later Yan-nang said he had never sat better. Yun-men Si is situated at the base of a tall forested mountain and a rushing torrent originating high in the rocky wilderness cascades down one side of the buildings and provides the water supply for the place. Girded by high cliffs and near vertical slopes covered in dense vegetation, the mountain is accessible only along a built path that, starting from an intimidating flight of steps, twists and curls steeply up to a place where a beautiful waterfall drops down a surface of bare cliff. Yan-nang and I climbed the path: Bamboo forest voices sound in silence. Between trees monastic eaves ripple in green sunshine. Looking up the steps of the path disappear in the mountain. Somewhere near the sky a waterfall begins falling from heaven the torrent filling a darkening pool white water black rock polishing. Clear laughter people bathing naked babies pee. One afternoon we walked to the base of the steps with Ming Shu talking about meditation and the practice of the monks. Again he affirmed that the main method they used was repeating the Buddha's name. I queried whether it might not be better to ask who was doing this repetition and so gain an insight into one's own nature. Ming Shu said that some people might indeed use such a koan but, by using the method he had described, a diligent meditator would in any case eventually perceive the source of repetition in a great limitless space. In this way one discovers the origin, rigpa as the Tibetan say, he told us. But it needed great persistence and his own practice had not yet "shown him the nature." Ming Shu then said something that was to touch me deeply. "When you practice you need to have great faith in Kuan-yin5. Kuan-yin is universal compassion. While she is simply a symbol, the meaning is profound. When you see her as the kindness of the Universe offering all life's experiences to you then you find gratitude. You cannot be proud at such a moment. This teaching is profound and needs to be the background against which meditation is practised. Otherwise the practice is in danger of becoming something quite mechanical. "Our problem today is that we lack enlightened masters to guide us. We have to teach from books and from our reading. None the less we have found this allows some progress so we are persisting in our training. Who knows what may turn up?" During our first exploratory visit Ming Shu had taken us to meet Master Fo-yuan, the aged Abbot of Nan-hua Si who had rooms at Yun-men Si where he often stayed. Ming led us into a large apartment near the buildings of the Dharma School. An old monk was pottering about tidying things. He looked so ordinary and accepted our arrival with so little ceremony that at first we could not suspect this was the great master and abbot himself. None the less he quickly invited us to drink tea while he plied us with questions. Who was our teacher? What was his lineage? How did we practice? How was the Dharma in foreign parts? His main interest was in Master Sheng-yen and he took care to trace out his precise lineage from Master Hsu-yun. Master Sheng-yen is a third generation descendent of Hsu-yun while, at his advanced age, the late eighties, Fo-yuan was a first generation descendant. We were in the presence of the most senior master of Chan still living. Master Fo-yuan had a rather strange presence. At the same time interested and disinterested in us, he had a matter of fact manner, yet he was none the less pleased to hear of the Dharma going to the West. Lacking entirely social graces and mannerisms he spoke to us with great earnestness and directness. His eyes had an unusual brightness and a querying look that suggested a capacity for demanding presence. Afterwards I thought much about the times he had come through. He had been selected as abbot by lot in 1952 after Master Hsu-yun, who was retiring, had written from Beijing ordering that each of the seventy or so monks be given a lot. The drawing of lots continued for two days with all the monks standing in the front porch of Nan-hua Si. On the third day one name came out three times in a row. It was Fo-yuan to whom Hsu-yun had transmitted the Dharma the year before and who was by far the ablest of the monks. Whether the falling of the lot three times had really been coincidental seems questionable but the choice was considered by all to have been a sound one - made by Wei-to, the monastic guardian, perhaps!6 During the cultural revolution Fo-yuan, together with other senior monks, had experienced not only the desecration of his monastery and severe maltreatment but had also endured the tragic death of his fellow monk and friend Wei-yin (see above p. 35) at the hands of the Red Guards. Then, in recent years and at an advanced age, he had pushed through the most remarkable programme of restoration at both Nan-hua and Yun-men, and was doubtless responsible for the monastic organisation and especially the excellent training now available for the young monks at Yun-men. Yan-nang and I were fortunate to have met such a towering, almost legendary, figure in the renewal of Chan in China today. Yan-nang translated one of Fo-yuan's short poems in praise of the Buddha in the pavilion of the guardians at Nan-hua: Smiling mouth always open Everyone calls me laughing Buddha. Sitting shirtless fat belly on view Every thing about me wishes you an easy way. We repeatedly came across short poems hanging in strings of characters down columns in the monastery and in the pavilions hidden in the bamboo forest behind it. In the Dharma Cloud Pavilion we found the following. On the right hand pillar - The body is like a cloud empty come and empty go. Where then do you find attachment? and on the left hand side facing it - The mind is like flowing water no front no back no stop. Ming told us that the winter retreat was very demanding lasting for six weeks of intensive effort. It began at 4.45 in the morning and went on till 11 at night. He wrote down the daily schedule for us. It consists of meditation periods divided by periods for talks, short ceremonies, light meals or tea breaks. Meditation periods are preceded by quite long sessions of fast walking around the Buddha. Most sits last a hour but they become shorter in the evening. I asked whether visitors could sit with the monks on intensive retreat and Ming told us that was possible. Visitors would not be expected to sustain the whole programme but to do as much as they could. Ming welcomed the idea that I should bring a small party of Western sitters to participate in one week of a winter sesshin. So far only a very occasional Westerner visited the monastery and it would be good to have friendly contact with other organisations that took intensive sitting seriously. Retreats are held in winter when the climate is cold, the temperature going down near freezing sometimes at night. Since the monastery is unheated, rooms are cold and the monks wear padded garments. We would have to be properly equipped. Shyly, Ming mentioned one difficulty. Women were not allowed in the Chan hall. It would be possible, however, for them to sit in another room which would be arranged for them. I mentioned that this would not go down well with feminist Buddhists. Ming remarked that at present they felt the essential thing was to restore authentic celibate life as the core of Chan monasticism. Once a healthy practice had been revived questions of gender could be reconsidered. He knew of course that outside the monastery walls there was no discrimination between genders in the new China. There was a difficulty here that has been resolved by Master Sheng-yen in Taiwan where monks and nuns in his monastery live together under discipline and attend all functions equally. No doubt these developments will eventually occur in mainland China also but, for the moment, I respect their discretion. There is certainly an odd paradox here because women are among the most staunch supporters of the monastery. Admittedly their spiritual practices were focused on devotion rather than on the self-confronting tasks of meditation yet devotion, bhakti as the Indians call it, is a very significant aspect of religious life. Each of the monasteries had a nunnery attached and the relations between monks and nuns would form an interesting study. Traditionally nuns focus on the practice of the vows and precepts and there is no Chan hall among the buildings used by them. Yan-nang and I visited the nunnery near Nan-hua Si. The modern buildings in traditional style had a gentle charm basking in the late afternoon sunshine. The nuns smiled at us and let us explore the neatly kept buildings. I had the impression that their peaceful spirituality, even without a Chan hall, might be on a level equal at least to that of the monks and keyed to a natural humility and simplicity some of the monks seemed to lack. On our last day some of the Chan hall practitioners sought us out for conversations. They had noted that we sat well and this attracted them to us. One of them remarked on the shameful behaviour of the boy who had giggled in the Chan hall. I said that Master Sheng-yen taught that a teacher must be hard on a group but understanding of an individual. The monk contemplated this point but then affirmed that at Yun-men there could be no room for lax behaviour. It was a difficult task trying to re-establish the Dharma and the correct practice. Each and every monk had to be dedicated very seriously if the endeavour was to succeed in such changing times. Discipline should be kindly but firmly administered. Another young monk had been a sailor and had learnt some English which he wanted to try out. He was keen to know how the Dharma was fairing in the West and held the view that a strong western Dharma would help in the restoration of the practice in China where so much had been lost. I was deeply struck by the realism and seriousness of these young men. Chan in contemporary China Our visits to these monasteries hardly allow an assessment of the re-emergence of Buddhism in China. Certain things are however becoming evident. In Taiwan, Buddhism has become a very strong ethical force and, in Hong Kong too, there is great support for Buddhism. Compared with the alternatives, Communism, Taoism Confucianism and Christianity, Buddhism is winning hands down. When Master Sheng-yen and other major Taiwanese masters give public talks their audiences may run into thousands. While one may query the quality of much of this Buddhism there is a serious core that cannot be denied. It seems very likely that the effects of the failure of Communism in China have some resemblance to cultural themes arising from the partial demise of Christianity in Europe. In both cases a powerful view of life with strong ethical injunctions has failed to hold the attention of the people and a spiritual vacuum has been created which only materialism and the quest for wealth has filled. This materialism, focusing on fame and gain, is however the root of much social suffering and the divisions between new rich and new poor. It lacks an ethical and a human dimension and no touch of the spirit enlivens it. It is this that Buddhism can supply. The interest in Buddhism in Europe parallels its re-emergence in the countries of its traditional practice. The ancient superstitious liturgies and ceremonies for the dead touch a deep root in Chinese nature where the importance of the family and respect for ancestors and ancestral tradition form the roots of an enduring Confucian ethic of mutual respect. The magic and mystery of cult Taoism touches simple minds that cannot easily distinguish mummery from spirituality. The mixing of these old rituals with Buddhism provides some with an inner security that the changing times still demand. Sheltering within these trends are the serious questioners who are looking once again at the fundamental roots of Chan where the best of Buddhism and Taoism combine. Because these trends enhance social security the government does well to tolerate religious freedom and the restoration of those towering ancient edifices where the roots of religion lie. Yet the authorities remain ever watchful. The National Buddhist Association of China is formed from representatives from lay and monastic institutions but there is also a strong governmental presence. At the local level the regional government supervises the activities of monasteries and promotes national tourism generating a renewed pride in Chinese culture. Some of the entry fee goes to the local tourist office. The taking of precepts is recognised by the giving of a certificate by the National Buddhist Association but the number of people who may take precepts in a year has been limited. At the level of our own visit to southern China we saw no evidence of external control on ordinary folk engaged in everyday affairs. People spoke their minds with us freely but did not discuss politics nor did we trouble them with political questions. The result seems a paradoxical co-existence of freedom within a determinedly one-party state. Probably only the ancient Confucian instincts of the Chinese keep this in place. What the role of Buddhism may be in the times to come remains an open question. For now we may rejoice at the new found voice of the Dharma in China. 1 I understand that the original embalmed body was badly damaged in the Cultural Revolution and that the present effigy contains the rescued skeleton. 2 See Wong Mou-lam 1953.The Sutra of Wei-lang (Hui-neng) The Buddhist Society..London. 3 Cheung, R and C.Y.Shakya1993. The Autobiography and Maxims of Master Han Shan. HK.Book Distributor 4 Luk, C.1988. Empty Cloud. The Autobiography of the Chinese Master Hsu-Yun. ( see pxiv,138-139) 5 Kuan-yin is the Chinese female form of Avalokiteshvara, the Indian Bodhisattva of compassion. 6 See Holmes Welch 1967. The Practice of Chinese Buddhism 1900-1950. Harvard East Asian Studies 26. Harvard University Press.Cambridge, Mass. p 169-170 Postscript in response to Hsu-yun Dozing in the summer sun butterflies sip the temple flowers. Cloud water from the bamboo hills ripples through courtyards filling cool pools with limpid clarity. Soft gong and sudden clapper call us to the meditation hall. In dim light stillness falls distant cicadas humming in the pines. *** *** *** December 9th 1997 THE FENCELESS GATE (for Hughie) High in the hills of Wales somewhere above Ceredigion a fenceless gate swings in the wind. Bold spirit are you? A rugged glance, good boots or a 4 time 4 and you're away among sheep and ravens cloudwise among crags bogs and sudden mist a falling white-out lost in the desert chilly too coming down a valley no-one ever saw before the dead still sing in the Inn finding a way home not so easy then they make you welcome - see beer's good hard to get away and the company cheerful nothing to worry about - see the view in the rear mirror mark me fading, boyo - just you take care in Wales. fenceless gates swinging are saying more in the wind than you take them for. Having another are you? JHC Jan 1998 PROGRAMME AND EVENTS Journeys 1998-1999 LADAKH-SPITI. Journey among Yogins. August 12th. 28 Days. Currently booking, this journey takes us to the remarkable monasteries of Ladakh and then over one of the highest roads in the world through Lahaul to the remote district of Spiti. In these picturesque strongholds of Tibetan Buddhism set in landscapes of unrivalled splendour, many of the buildings are adorned with mural paintings of the Kashmiri school introduced to Tibet by the great translator Rinchin Zangpo. We will search out this ancient art in many of its most hidden away locations. Some of these monasteries are also training centres for yogins, although usually shy of contacts we may perhaps be able tactfully to meet some of them. John Crook will provide teachings and introductions to Tibetan Buddhism as part of the trip. We complete the journey by trekking out of the mountains (5 days camping) through the little known Pin valley. We emerge near Simla and enjoy this hill station, once the summer capital of the British Raj. Apply very soon if you want to reserve a place. Booking now: œ2000 inclusive. MONASTERIES OF SOUTH CHINA. Nan Hua Si and Yun Men Si, the monasteries of the famous Chan Masters Hui Neng and Yun Men. Winter 1998 or 1999 A remarkable opportunity has arisen not only to visit these most famous of Chinese Chan monasteries, now refreshingly refurbished and functional, but also to do a Chan retreat in a traditional Chan Hall. This invitation arises from John Crook's visit with Yiu Yannang to China in July 1997. Anyone interested should contact John soon so that some idea as to who and how many persons may like to come. Chinese speakers especially welcomed. This event is at the planning stage and we need an estimate of numbers as soon as possible. We hope to restrict the cost to œ2000. Duration around 18-20 days. Contact John Crook. Winterhead Hill Farm. Shipham. N Somerset. BS25 1RS for both journeys. Retreats We are listing the remainder of the 1997-1998 retreat programme. Maenllwyd Western Zen Retreats May 21st-26th 1998 Open to all. œ130. Leaders Retreat and Western Chan Fellowship AGM Feb 20th-24th 1998 The AGM will take place on the 21st of Feb (commencing 11 a.m.). Chan Retreat March 11th-18th 1998 Open to those who have attended a Western Zen Retreat or equivalent. œ160. Chan Community Experiment June 7th-21st 1998 The first week will be an orthodox Chan retreat. In the second week we will adopt a less intensive monastic style with both silent and convivial periods and a more relaxed programme of walks and outings. The emphasis will be on living in a Dharma community. Participants must attend both weeks except for additional retreatants booking for the first week only. œ250. Other Retreats Chan Retreat at Sharpham College March 28th-April 5th (Not open to fellows) Retreats at the Chan Center in New York For information about retreats in New York contact: Chan Meditation Center, Institute of Chung Hwa Buddhist Culture, 90-56 Corona Ave., Elmhurst, New York 11373, USA Tel: 00 1 718 592 6593 Fax: 00 1 718 592 0717 email ddmbany@aol.com CONTACTS FOR THE NEW CH'AN FORUM AND WESTERN CH'AN FELLOWSHIP John McGowan is retiring as NCF editor after this issue, and the editor for future issues will be Pamela Hopkinson, 7 Ember Lane, Bonsall, Matlock, Derbyshire, DE4 2AF, Telephone/fax: 01629 823590, email pamela@phopkins.demon.co.uk, to whom you can send any material for possible publication. Subscriptions: WCF Fellows receive NCF as a benefit of Fellowship. Others may subscribe at a price of œ7.50 per three issues (we aim for three issues per year) by writing with payment enclosed (cheques payable to Bristol Chan Group) to Peter Howard at 22 Butts Road, Chiseldon, Wilts, SN4 0NW, England, UK The WCF Secretary, (and also NCF picture editor to whom you can submit artwork, photographs etc for publication) is Simon Child, 24 Woodgate Ave, Bury, LANCS, BL9 7RU, Tel 0161 761 1945, Fax 0161 763 3221 (work), email wcf@child.demon.co.uk The WCF Treasurer and Membership Secretary is Tim Blanc, 26 Hinton Road, Greenbank, Bristol, BS5 6HB, tblanc@globalnet.co.uk The Chan Magazine from the Chan Center in New York. The Chan Center in New York publishes a quarterly magazine, which is available free and which they would like to distribute more widely. It is undergoing a redesign currently so the content and style may change a little, but typically it includes transcribed Dharma talks by Master Sheng-yen, retreat reports, poems, scholarly articles, news and events, etc. If you would like to be added to the mailing list then write to the Chan Center and ask them. The address is as above. They distribute it free of charge but like to receive donations to cover the cost of printing and postage. The cheapest way to send a donation, as long as you trust the postal system, is to obtain some dollar bills from the post office or from Thomas Cook's, and enclose them with your letter. A more secure way, but incurring higher bank charges, would be to send a bankers draft. ELECTRONIC RESOURCES Chan Centre Website: http://www.chan1.org/ Western Chan Fellowship Webpages: http:/child.demon.co.uk/wcf/ Maintained by Simon Child wcf@child.demon.co.uk WCF-L Chan Email List: Contact John McGowan at john@conyboro.demon.co.uk Groups BRISTOL MEDITATION EVENINGS The Bristol Chan Group continues to meet on Wednesday Evenings 7.30-10.00 at the Iyengar Yoga Centre, Denmark Place, Gloucester Rd., Bristol. John is available occasionally for personal interviews. Contact Caroline Paine on 0117 924 5332. DHARMA STUDY GROUP Tim Paine is co-ordinating this group running in Bristol. Contact him for more details on 0117 924 5332. BRIGHTON GROUP Currently meeting on Mondays. Contact John McGowan on 01825 840771 or Email john@conyboro.demon.co.uk. CARDIFF GROUP Eddy Street runs the Cardiff group which meets on the last Tuesday of every month at 19 Velindre Rd., Cardiff CF4 7JE. For further details contact Eddy on 01222 691146. EDINBURGH GROUP For details contact Frank Tait on 01721 721146. MANCHESTER GROUP Simon Child is running a group in Bury. For further details contact him on 0161 761 1945. STROUD GROUP Meeting on Wednesday evenings, for details contact Alec Lawless on 01452 814216. SWINDON GROUP For details contact John Senior on 01793 613940 or Dave Horsley on 01793 487402. YORK GROUP Contact Jake Lynes de Ver on 01904 728419 or James McCarthey on 01904 330977 for details. [end]