The fourteenth of July 1994 is one of those dates that is etched in my memory, like my birthday or the date of my ordination. It was on that day that I became the chairman of the London Buddhist Centre. The occasion was marked by a moving ritual presided over by Subhuti, the president of the Centre. Two things stand out from that evening for me: firstly, stating clearly before everyone that ‘yes’ I did want to take on this responsibility, then taking my place on a specially raised platform and, secondly, being presented with many, many messages of support written on vajra shaped pieces of card. The first of these events signified taking on a leadership role and gave a flavour of what it’s like to stand out from the crowd in that way, simultaneously frightening and exciting. The second event showed that others wanted me to do this and would be right behind me. I was particularly moved by this. The following day I quite quickly understood that the role of leadership was a role of service. It would be impossible to do anything without the support and co-operation of others and everything I had taken on to do was for the sake of others. I was dedicating myself to the spiritual well-being of others in a very concrete way. Henceforth, my life would be entwined with the lives of others. I also experienced a sort of crisis of identity. Who am I to be doing this? That identity ‘crisis’ has remained with me, albeit in a different form, and in some ways has been one of the most positive outcomes of this particular spiritual practice of taking on greater responsibility for the spiritual welfare of others. Being the Chairman of the London Buddhist Centre is a spiritual practice. A practice that involves thinking about other people and the conditions they need in order to make spiritual progress and also doing whatever I can to bring those conditions into being and maintain them. It is a practice that demands generosity, kindly speech and courage and, therefore, a practice that is always drawing me forward into more expansiveness than I had previously imagined possible. The word ‘chairman’ is totally inadequate to describe what I do and what my responsibilities are. Yes, I am the chairman of the charity which runs the Centre. But that is only a small part of what I do. Sometimes, when I am speaking to people not associated with the Centre, I say that I am the spiritual director, in the hope that that phrase will convey something more of what my role is. I am responsible for maintaining the spiritual vitality and direction of the Centre and its associated residential communities, right-livelihood businesses and other activities. I have to have an overview of all that is happening in a general way and often in detail too. I need to encourage others in their spiritual endeavour and their work. I have to be open to new opportunities for making the Dharma more widely available and willing to take risks. Above all, I must always hold up the Buddha’s vision of reality, in whatever way I can, for all to see. To enable me to do this I have had to delve deep into my own resources and move beyond any fears or fixed views that limited my effectiveness. This is why I have not been able to return to an old identity and my sense of who I am has continued to become more and more fluid. For instance, I am not someone who has a natural flair for speaking to large groups of people. In fact, I used to be painfully shy. But now I can speak in public without nervousness and with relative ease. I have also had to overcome my reticence, conditioned by a background of rural Irish poverty, to be able to confidently meet with MPs, bishops, bank managers and so on. These are some of the personal benefits I have gained from putting myself in a position where I have had to face my fears and overcome self-imposed limitations. But by far the most satisfying thing in my life is seeing people benefit from the Dharma and from the events and facilities the Centre has to offer. Of course, this is what the Centre is all about and what my work (if I can call it work) is all about too. According to the Tiratana Vandana, the Dharma is ‘ehipassiko’ which has been poetically rendered as ‘of the nature of a personal invitation’. The Centre issues a general invitation to all who wish to come and partake of the Dharma. So I need to make sure that all the possible ‘guests’ receive this invitation and that those of us who run the Centre are friendly and welcoming ‘hosts’. Another way of seeing my role is in terms of building the Buddha-land – at least metaphorically. In the Mahayana tradition there is the concept, the image, of the Buddha-land or the Buddha-field (Buddha-kshetra). According to the Buddha, speaking in the Vimalakirti Nidesa, a Buddha-land consists of living beings. This image serves to remind me that what I am concerned with primarily is people. I spend most of my time talking to people. I meet about twenty to twenty five people every week for one-to-one discussions. These can range from an exploration of Buddhist views on death and rebirth to a conversation about some detail of our finances. Whatever the nature of the discussion, I try to bear in mind my overall purpose, which is to encourage the development of spiritual insight. Of course, it is not sufficient for me to talk I also have to practice and do my best to be an exemplar. This means that I have to make sure I meditate regularly and take time for reflection. Currently, I am reflecting quite a lot on death and bringing the fact of my own mortality to mind each morning. This has the effect of helping me to live life more vividly and immediately and also to value the things that I might otherwise take for granted such as the abilities to walk, to talk, to see, to hear and so on. It also enhances my ability to value other people in their aliveness and uniqueness. In addition to meeting people one-to-one and personal practice, I have meetings to attend, phone calls to make, correspondence to read and twice a month I cook for my community. I also lead a weekly class at the Centre on Tuesdays, a study group on Wednesdays and attend a community meeting on Thursdays. There are friends to keep up with and books to read. I am an avid reader of novels and biographies, as well as Buddhist material. All in all, I have a very full life and a very satisfying life. In spite of being so fully occupied, I don’t feel stressed or over busy. This is because I have very good friends around me who undertake the various tasks that need to happen for the Buddhist Centre and all the associated activities to run smoothly. Also, through my experience of taking on responsibilities and the benefits gained from my meditation practice over the years, I have learned how to avoid anxiety. I also see it as essential that I get away for a solitary retreat every year. Even if I can only manage two or three weeks, it does enable me to stand back from the daily round and get a clearer perspective on my own life and the life of the Centre. I often return from solitary retreat with new ideas and renewed energy, which then has a beneficial effect on the Centre. I have always been motivated by a desire to help to change the world for the better but from my teenage years I was aware that change would need to happen on the individual level to have any lasting effect. I see my efforts at the London Buddhist Centre as an attempt to create and provide the facilities to enable thousands of people to change themselves. This is a small contribution to the welfare of humankind, but an important one I feel. Because I am completely convinced of the truth of the Buddhist teaching on the interpenetration of consciousness, I have faith that any attempt to create peace and harmony will have a rippling effect far beyond what is immediately apparent. When I was twenty two years old I gave up my career as an accountant, I gave up my flat and I decided to go in search of the meaning of life. For whatever reason, I found the thought of a conventional life intolerable and felt that there must be more to life. I had to find out. Six years later I discovered Buddhism when I encountered a Sri Lankan monk in Berlin. A year later I came to the London Buddhist Centre and before long I was helping in whatever way I could. In particular, my accountancy experience was very useful. The more I heard and understood of Sangharakshita’s clear and uncompromising teaching of the Dharma, the more convinced I was that I wanted to dedicate my life to Buddhism. I encountered many difficulties in the form of my own psychological and emotional instability and neuroses but, with help from some very good friends, I managed to overcome these and was ordained into the Western Buddhist Order in 1988. Now, twelve years later I look back on my adult life with feelings of gratitude and a sense of being extremely fortunate. I may not have discovered the meaning of life exactly but I do feel that I have a meaningful life. That is enough.
