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Let's Talk About Practice: Sangha - Diana Clark, Tanya Wiser

Introduction

Tanya: Hello, beautiful people in YouTube land. Welcome. I sometimes talk about it as the people on the other side of the camera—like we're on this side and they're on the other side.

We wanted to create a space to talk about practice together. For the four weeks of "Let's Talk About Practice," this week the focus is talking about Sangha^[1]. Next week will be effort, the week after would be mindfulness, and the week after, concentration. Diana will give a talk, and then I will share as well. But tonight, I'm going to focus mostly on incorporating and moving into discussions using mindful speaking and listening. So I'm glad you're here, my dear Sangha—Diana, Sage, and Richard out there. Are you ready to share?

The Story of Meghiya

Diana: Welcome, everybody. For those of you who don't know me, I'm Diana Clark, and I'm so delighted to be teaching with Tanya, especially on this topic of Sangha. We've been friends for quite some time, and we talk about practice all the time. We talk about Dharma things, and what a delight it is; it makes such a difference having you as a new part of my life.

I wanted to start by sharing a story from the suttas, the ancient Buddhist literature. This story is about a character named Meghiya^[2], who was the attendant of the Buddha. Some of you may have heard of Ananda^[3] as the attendant of the Buddha, but Meghiya was the attendant before Ananda.

One day, Meghiya went out for alms round in the morning. As he went out, he noticed a mango grove and thought, "Wow, it looks so peaceful. I think I'd like to go meditate there." This was a wholesome idea; he wanted to go meditate. After he returned from his alms round, he told the Buddha, "I saw this fantastic mango grove. I'd like to go meditate there."

The Buddha replied, "No, right now is not a good time."

Meghiya insisted, "But I really want to."

The Buddha repeated, "This is not the right time."

Then Meghiya said something like, "Well, you don't have any more work to do, but I have work to do, and I really want to go meditate," recognizing that he wasn't awakened yet and really wanted to become awakened. So the Buddha finally agreed.

Meghiya went off into the mango grove he had seen. He sat down, thinking he was in an ideal setting with great gusto for practice. But as he started to meditate, he discovered his mind was all over the place. Not only was he distracted, but he was having unwholesome thoughts that just kept arising. He hung in there and spent the day meditating. He said to himself, "I don't remember the Pali^[4] words, but in English it often gets translated like this: it is incredible that my mind is so out of control and all these unwholesome things are happening."

At the end of the day, he returned to the Buddha and told him, "My mind was all over the place, and I had all these unwholesome thoughts arise." This is surprising because Meghiya was a monastic who had completely dedicated his life to practice. He had ordained, making this the most important thing ever. Not only that, he got to hang out with the world's greatest meditation teacher, the Buddha. Yet, he still faced these difficulties.

When Meghiya shared his experience, the Buddha told him: "For those whose freedom of mind is not fully mature, there are five things that lead to maturity. What five? The first one, Meghiya: a practitioner has a good friend, a good companion, a good comrade. This is the first thing that leads to freedom of mind."

The sutta continues with four more things: virtue, having opportunities to talk about Dharma topics, having energy and effort (which we will discuss next week), and having wisdom. It is striking to me that the Buddha's first instruction to Meghiya highlighted the importance of good comrades, good associates, and good friends. It is not sufficient merely to dedicate your life to practice.

I also appreciate that the Buddha used three different words—friend, companion, and comrade—pointing to different levels of intimacy. Some people are our friends, with whom we share many things. Some are companions, with whom we may share less. Some are comrades, whose names we might not even know, simply people who sit in the meditation hall with us.

I recall a long retreat where I was sitting in the meditation hall. I had placed my cushion on a zabuton in a certain region I liked, before anyone else was there. When it came time for us all to be in the hall, I found myself sitting between a woman on one side and a man on the other. They were both kneeling—maybe a little bit like Mitra^[5] is here—which made them a bit taller, so I felt like I had a "Mom and Dad" next to me. They were so steady, and I felt protected and happy. It was an amazing retreat for me, just sitting between these two people. I sat for six weeks of the three-month retreat, and when I left, they stayed in silence. I never knew their names, and I couldn't even tell you what they looked like, but the recognition that other people support us is profound. Those people probably will never know how much they supported me.

This idea of good companions, good friends, and good associates is foundational for practice. In the suttas, the Buddha uses the term Kalyāṇa-mitta^[6]. Mitta is the word for friend, and Kalyāṇa can mean "good," but it can also mean "beautiful." It refers to a friend who inspires us or touches us in some way. It doesn't have to be elevated to something extraordinary; it is simply the recognition that we can support one another and be supported by others.

However, receiving support is not as easy as just sitting next to people silently. If we are truly going to learn from people we spend time with, be influenced by them, or allow ourselves to be supported, we have to be open to it. We must have a willingness to learn. Can we be teachable? Sometimes people show up so busy demonstrating how much they know that they never learn anything. It takes a bit of humility to acknowledge that there are things we don't know and to be open to inspiration without envy.

This openness also requires that we not be too attached to our views, including views about ourselves and the "us versus them" dynamics we set up in our lives. It is a human tendency to want to hang out with people similar to us, but can we relax that and be open to whomever? Here at IMC, I've met people from all different walks of life, backgrounds, and ages—people I would never have encountered in my previous life. Letting go of biases and assumptions about others is crucial.

This is why the Buddha told Meghiya that good friends, companions, and associates are the first support for practice. The characteristics that allow a person to be supported by and to support others are the same practices of letting go and being open that lead to freedom in general.

Discernment is also needed. How do we know what a good spiritual friend is? We can ask ourselves: does spending time with this person feel like it supports greater freedom? This doesn't mean it is always pleasant. Sometimes we have difficult conversations. But do they give us the opportunity to be the best versions of ourselves, allowing our inner wisdom to come forth? Or do we find our bad habits surfacing, leaving us with less freedom and more regret?

This can be difficult when starting spiritual practice. It is common for relationships to shift as priorities change and we understand ourselves differently. We might limit time with a long-time relationship or realize that a casual acquaintance is actually a great support.

What is the difference between a good spiritual friend and Sangha? Perhaps there is no difference. In contemporary parlance, we often use the word Sangha to refer to fellow practitioners or comrades in practice. In early Buddhist literature, the Sangha was strictly defined as those who have attained a certain amount of awakening. This acknowledges that there are people who have been walking this path longer than we have, from whom we can learn and be inspired. I will stop there, introducing this idea of Sangha and good spiritual friends.

Practicing Mindful Speaking and Listening

Tanya: Thanks, Diana. I wonder if we could make a circle and come a little closer so we are one group, making a Sangha. Let's practice mindfulness of speaking and listening with each other.

It is inspiring to me to think about being here with you. At the time of the Buddha, people practiced in community. They didn't learn how to meditate on an app by themselves at home; they learned to meditate with others. It feels different to meditate with others. You are carried by everybody's practice around you; it holds the frame and holds you up.

First, feel your bodies. This is a huge support for staying mindful. Feel your bodies here in this room and space. Every part of you, all of you, is welcome here. Every feeling is welcome here.

Diana talked about inclusion and the "in-group." I was thinking about the terms "othering" and "selfing." We do so much othering and selfing. I invite us not to "self" and not to "other" during this practice in this little group. I don't have to be a "selfing" person that you make into an "other," and I don't need to make myself a "self." I can be aware of the experience as it unfolds, with you and your experience as it unfolds.

To stop othering—which means creating an idea of who you are, what your story is, or what I think you're going to do next—my goal will be to sit back and be surprised. I will let each of you surprise me by however you show up, whether you share or not. I will not try to make it into anything, but simply receive whoever you manifest as in this moment.

Being grounded in the body, feeling our feet, and maintaining awareness of speaking or listening actually makes it hard to do a lot of othering and selfing. It gives us something to let go into. We devote the energy we would have used to create a self or an "other" to being aware. When I am speaking, I know I am speaking. When I am listening, I know I am listening.

Talking a little slower than normal general conversation helps. Tune into the impact of words on your body and heart. Allow space for pausing. Do not plan what you are going to say in advance; allow yourself to speak spontaneously when it is your turn, so you can continue to be changed by whatever happens next. Relaxation is helpful, just like when we are sitting. When you feel tension, tune in and see if you can soften it. Be aware of your breathing as you talk or listen. Choose one of these things in particular to practice tonight.

I thought I would share first. Diana's story about feeling supported by the two people on retreat brought me a lot of warmth. It reminded me of a different kind of story where I felt supported by a spiritual friend, a Kalyāṇa-mitta. I was here for a Sunday morning talk and went out to breakfast with several friends. During the car ride, the conversation started moving in a critical direction. It wasn't blatant or awful, but it had an edgy, gossipy tone.

One person in the car got very quiet. They stopped talking. I could feel their stillness and their refusal to engage in the gossip. It was like a weight that pulled me back and made me mindful. I chose to be careful about how I engaged. It was a very visceral, powerful experience. This person said nothing, yet their whole impact was profound. It was a beautiful gift to me from a Kalyāṇa-mitta.

Let's go around the circle. Richard, would you be willing to share a story that speaks to Kalyāṇa-mitta?

Reflections from the Sangha

Richard: To be honest, I'm a little reluctant to do so because I just finished Gil's three-week retreat, and I became very aware of my tendency to "story." It's not so helpful to me, just to be as honest as I can about it. But I can't imagine my life at this point without the friends who support me in this practice and whom I support. I have countless examples of that. You two sitting there is one example. And this young man here—we just sat this retreat together, and it was very special for me to have him there. That's about all I'll say right now.

Jeff: Just coming off retreat, being around experienced practitioners was really inspiring. There were people who were so embodied, mindful, and present with their experience. I tend to watch people, and I feel like I learn from doing that. Just seeing people on that retreat and being in their presence was a beautiful experience.

Ben: As I was listening to the talk just now, my mind started wandering. I wouldn't call it an epiphany—I think I always knew it—but it solidified for me that all this teaching is about learning how to live better in community with other people. All this sitting still, being quiet, being observant... it's not about you; it's about everybody.

Mitra: Ben and I have been married for thirty-some years—we actually forgot our anniversary last week. [Laughter] We've both been practicing at IMC for a few years, and I realize how valuable that is more and more every day.

Driving here tonight, we were talking about an email chain with a group of friends. One of them is in Iran and was reporting on the events happening there, while also dealing with her mother in the ICU. I started talking, maybe not very nicely, about something a writer on the chain had said, calling it an exaggeration. What Ben said in response made me realize where my mind was going, and I stopped. I thought about how valuable it is that we're both practicing. He helped remind me of my value of being kind, even if the person isn't present to hear it. This keeps happening more and more in our conversations at home. I'm so grateful for our Sangha at home.

Sage: My Sangha story is about somebody I didn't share a language with. The very first retreat I went on was at Shasta Abbey, a Zen monastery far north in California. It was a silent retreat, and we sat facing the walls with dividers between us. When we finally had a brief time to talk, a woman walked up to me with her friend. She playfully nudged my chin up and had her friend translate. She told me to quit looking at the ground. She said I was always looking down and that I was worth always looking up. It was quite a while into the retreat, and it was such a profound observation. It had a huge impact on me, and I still think about it all the time. We never really got to talk because of the language barrier, but it was incredibly special.

Diana: Years ago, Gil used to lead Dharma Practice Days here, which were day-long events with small groups, guided meditations, and talks. A friend of mine told me I should attend because they were great for learning and meeting others. I thought, "Oh my goodness, I don't want to go to something like that." I was terrified of what I would say in those small groups. I asked him if he would be in every single small group with me, and he agreed. So I dragged him along.

I learned a lot that day, and it really kick-started my Dharma practice in community. Hearing how other people understood different ideas in those small groups opened up a whole new world. I realized not everybody thinks exactly the way I do. I feel so touched by this person who encouraged me to go and was willing to sit in every group with me.

Tanya: I'll invite us to go around the circle one more time. You could share what you've noticed while being mindful of speaking or listening, share another Sangha story, or ask a question about Sangha.

Richard: I'm pretty aware of not wanting to talk too much right now. I very much enjoy hearing other people and listening to what's going on. I think I have peeled away certain layers of armor that this culture tends to build up. I'm feeling a lot more emotion right now than I typically do in my normal life. There is a fragility in my emotions right now after the retreat that is uncommon.

Jeff: I've been trying to practice staying in my body, which is quite difficult. When talking, I try to stay with my breath, and when listening to others, I go back to the breath. It really helps me step out of being judgmental or holding strong opinions. It helps me drop back and feel more compassion and calm.

Ben: The only story that comes to mind right now is related to what's happening in Iran. First thing in the morning, I check all the news feeds to see what happened overnight, even though I know I shouldn't before meditating. While listening to Gil on Monday, looking at my iPad with hundreds of people on the screen, I thought, "Why couldn't the world be like this? It's very simple. Why are we doing this to each other?" If we just did nothing, think of how much energy we would have saved and what we could have done with it. As an engineer, I always think about entropy. There is a lot of entropy, and it saddens me.

Mitra: I had a question about community and how our needs change during our lives, even without a practice like this. I don't have a hard time knowing what I want in a community of close friends, but I have a hard time making that change. If it were just me, and I could move somewhere and start over, it would be easier, but I'm obviously not going to do that. Do you have any suggestions? You mentioned looking beyond our judgments and biases, acknowledging that we're all the same. But choosing what stays in your life is difficult when you've established thirty, forty, or fifty-year relationships. I think I need to keep working on myself.

Tanya: I appreciate what you're bringing up, Mitra. When we come to the practice and want to change how we show up, our established group doesn't necessarily change. Gossip is a common way people relate and connect. My story was about how one person's silence changed me, but that was because I was inclined that way.

It reminds me of a story Thich Nhat Hanh^[7] tells about Cambodian refugees fleeing on small boats. They faced terrible dangers, including pirates who would pillage and worse. Thich Nhat Hanh said that all it took was one person on that boat who stayed grounded, equanimous, and mindful to save the whole boat. When everyone else panics and does irrational things, one calm person is enough to anchor everyone.

Mitra: But that person needs to be further along in the practice than I am. I see the harm now, and for the most part, I don't participate in it. I hear it, and I don't like it. But I'm also noticing that I'm not hating it as much, and I'm not judging it as much. I'm a little softer; I don't feel like, "Oh my God, I'm so much better than that."

Tanya: Yes, not necessarily having to make yourself into something better.

Mitra: Exactly. I see that happening, which is great. But my dilemma is that time is limited. We only have time for a few things in our day, so choosing to let things go is difficult with long-established relationships.

Sage: My Sangha story is actually the story of two Sanghas. I started coming here to IMC and to Kannon Do^[8] in Mountain View a couple of months back, right after getting out of the hospital. I was encouraged by a chaplain to seek out spirituality during a particularly difficult and lonely time in my life. Since I've been coming here, I've definitely felt more like I'm part of something, and it matters deeply to me. Sangha has made a huge difference for me.

Diana: I'd like to share a really short story. Many years ago, someone used an expression that changed how I understood my interactions: "bonding through mutual outrage." I hadn't noticed before how people, myself included, would get together and complain about a terrible thing or a terrible person. It gave us a false good feeling of, "Well, we're not that person." Once that was highlighted for me, I realized how often we bond by complaining. In Corporate America, we used to stand around the water cooler doing just that. Today, social media is largely driven by this bonding through mutual outrage. It had a big impact on me to see that habit and try to stop doing it.

Guided Meditation: Loving-Kindness

Diana: Practicing together is about connection. There are many ways to connect, but sometimes we need to soften that which is inside us to make connection easier. Let's do a little loving-kindness meditation to help soften our inner experience.

Take a posture that feels comfortable enough for the next little while. Checking in with the body, feeling where it rests on the chair or cushion. Feeling the feet on the ground—we are connected, we are here in this location. Notice how the body feels in this sitting posture. Connecting with the breath and the sensations of breathing. Right now, there's nowhere else to be and nothing else to do. We're just here with the sensations of breathing.

To begin our loving-kindness practice, bring to mind a lovable being. The most lovable, uncomplicated, straightforward being you can think of. It could be an internet kitten that makes you smile, a teacher or author who has touched you, or someone in your life for whom it's easy to feel warmth and care. Bring this being to mind in whatever way makes sense for you—through an image or simply a feeling of warmth in the heart center.

As a support for this connection, we can use these phrases. You are welcome to modify them; there is nothing magical about these particular words. Simply offer a warm-hearted wish for another:

May you be safe.
May you be happy.
May you be healthy.
May you live with ease.

May you be safe.
May you be happy.
May you be healthy.
May you live with ease.

Just keep it simple, offering warm-hearted wishes for this lovable being. Allow yourself to feel the warmth and care. It's perfectly fine if you don't feel anything in particular, but if you do, allow yourself to be supported and nourished by this feeling of respect, love, goodwill, and benevolence.

Now, expand your loving-kindness to include yourself. In the same way we have warmth and care for the lovable being, stretch that to include yourself:

May I be safe.
May I be happy.
May I be healthy.
May I live with ease.

It can also be very supportive to do a little equanimity practice. Bring to mind somebody who is a little bit troubling or bothersome for you. On a scale of one to ten, choose someone who is a two or a three—just a little irksome. Bring this person to mind, and silently say this phrase:

I wish you happiness, and I cannot make your choices for you.
I wish you happiness, and I cannot make your choices for you.
I wish you happiness, and I cannot make your choices for you.

Loving-kindness practice is a support for Sangha and our Kalyāṇa-mittas. It softens our tendency to "other" people, but it also provides care for ourselves. True care doesn't mean sacrificing ourselves, trying to control others, or failing to set boundaries. Equanimity practice supports this balance.

Dedication of Merit

Tanya: Thank you. This was very sweet to just be here with you guys in this way tonight. I love that we're talking about Sangha and that we created this great little group here. Let's dedicate the merit tonight. Let's pass the microphone around so each person can name the beings, people, or issues they want included in our dedication of merit.

Jeff: I'd like to dedicate this to all beings everywhere, and especially those that are suffering.

Richard: I would like to dedicate the merit to exactly what Jeff said: to all of us and everybody who is suffering, as there is a whole lot of it going on.

Ben: There's a 22-year-old woman who was killed, among thousands of people who get killed every day in Iran. Her name was Mahsa Amini^[9]. People around the world are calling her name, not just for her, but for everyone who is suffering and being oppressed. The slogan of this movement in Iran is three words: Zan, Zendegi, Azadi^[10], which translates to Woman, Life, Freedom. That's all there is, and this woman inspired it.

Sage: I'd like to dedicate the merit of our practice to incarcerated people. May all beings be free.

Diana: I'll just add a little flourish to "all beings": all beings without exception.

Tanya: Thank you all for your practice, for coming here, and for sharing this with us. I won't be here next week, but I look forward to being here for week three and week four.