What Happened When I First Visited My Local Buddhist Centre
How a desire to improve my meditation practice led to an unexpected sense of community
It was in late 2021, just after the Covid lockdown restrictions were lifted, when I started attending my local Buddhist Centre.
Initially, it was all about improving my meditation practice. I had been meditating for many years, but had recently started to feel a little disillusioned. It seemed the serenity of mindfulness had slipped away. Every time I took to the cushion my mind span out of control. I suspected it was something to do with the surreal life we had all been living, but I could not be sure. I had always meditated unaided, but in that moment of mental disarray, I sought the help of a meditation app. Even that failed to lift the spiritual funk however. Indeed, my bewilderment only grew as I was variously instructed to watch the passing thoughts. Then ignore them. Then feel them. Then watch them. Ultimately, it was a case of guidance overload.
After searching for local meditation groups, I learned that I lived near a Triratna Buddhist Centre.
The Triratna order was founded by an Englishman in the 1960s. As such, it had a distinctly Western flavour and seemed an easy entry-point into that most esoteric of faiths. A cartoon lightbulb flashed as I pictured myself on a plush cushion refreshing my lockdown-frazzled consciousness. I must admit, joining their no doubt jolly community was not part of the plan. A little empty chat with the attendees I could live with, but actual friendship was out of the question. My intention was to greet the nice (but likely weird) Buddhists, hit the meditation masterclass, then flee.
Only it didn’t go that way.
In fact, it was actually an engaging and sincere experience (heartfelt sincerity, that is, as opposed to the cringeworthy earnest kind). I sometimes find English politeness - lovely and well meaning as it - a little hard going. All that inoffensive patter about life’s inanities glides right over me. Perhaps that’s because I have always struggled with small-talk - likely the result of having foreign parents, both of whom are from energised cultures that cut to the core on every occasion. Not to say this is always a good thing, of course. An example being the time I visited my Asian mother after a particularly inactive summer. She looked me up and down and announced ‘you are fat’. Not that fat, I muttered. Without missing a beat, she countered: ‘son, your stomach is bursting.’
Lovely.
In the centre, I was pleased to find the conversations notably deep. After a few cursory words, a kindly older gentlemen asked me what I was looking for. I look this for a metaphysical question as opposed to a response to a confused-looking newcomer and we entered into what I now know to be a discussion about the Dharma (the Buddha’s teachings). Shortly after, we were called to attention by one of the Triratna order members who explained the format: group meditation, followed tea, and a talk on a Buddhist concept.
We adjourned to the Shrine Room where I was confronted by a larger-than-life Buddhist statue. This was the OG Buddha, Shakyamuni, the svelte former Prince - as opposed to the smiling, rotund monk. Some people bowed at the waist on entry, clasping their hands in a praying motion. Others, myself included, wandered in awkwardly. I felt the Enlightened One’s eyes on me as I searched for a perch. After a long moment, a young man in a Metallica t-shirt invited me to take up a comfortable position, either on a cushion or on a chair. Knowing the pain that came with kneeling for long durations, I headed for a wicker chair in the corner. Almost everyone took a blanket for a neat pile in the corner. Trying to feign familiarity, I did the same, and sat with it around my shoulders. Many wrapped their blanket around their legs, so I gave that a try, before going back to the shoulders, pulling it tight like some protective cocoon.
After much shuffling and fidgeting, we were gently called to order. The meditation was led a kindly, if slightly wizened, lady with a soothing voice. She sat at the font, cross-legged, with a simple standing bell (a small inverted bowl) before her. A soft ring flowed through the Shrine Room as she banged it three times. Time for enlightenment I thought with a giddy rush. The thrill of meditating with a clutch of seekers came on in technicolour. I looked at the golden Buddha - his slight, enigmatic smile said it all. Everyone that joins the Sangha - the Buddhist community - is welcome.
It cannot be any other way.
Admittedly, my expectation from that first meditation session was unreasonably high. Conversely, my expectation of the people, charming and open-handed as turned out to be, was shamefully low.
It seems community can be found anywhere. You just have to know how to look.