Buddha Vs Postman

I'm not sure if I've mentioned it in a previous post somewhere, but I live in a Buddhist centre along with eight other people. It's coming up to a year since I moved in.

First thing's first, I'm not a Buddhist.

Out of the eight people I live with, four are practising Buddhists - one being a Buddhist nun.

At the moment there's a silent retreat on.

I personally find it quite pretentious, but I'm trying to simply accept that this is what these people are into . . . because, after all, it's just a trip, isn't it?

Maybe I'm just expressing my own ignorance.

I would like to go on a silent retreat sometime, but for no other reason than to honour the silence and to go within; a bit like an extended Quaker meeting. But what I hear coming out of the meditation room is a symphony of chanted meditations.

That's not my thing.

One thing I find quite frustrating is that some of the people don't even smile at you, even if you smile at them. It would take a lot of effort for me NOT to smile at someone if they smiled at me. There doesn't have to be verbal communication - a smile is an expression of a kind acknowledgement from one person to another.

But where certain individuals are concerned, aspects of etiquette seemed to have flown out of the window during this retreat.

A few days ago I had a minor drama whilst cooking my dinner.

I was in the kitchen along with two others (one of those being the nun). Whilst waiting for my pasta to cook, I was looking for my spinach. Everyone has their own cupboard and fridge space, so I was looking through all of my food stuffs, but to know avail.

When suddenly, the Buddhist nun pulls out a bag of spinach from her shelf in the fridge.

Is that my bloody spinach? I thought to myself.

I've had plenty of things go missing in the past; whether it be eggs, bagels, salad dressing, fruit juice - but I'm always told to either label all my food or to accept the fact that this is what it's like living communally.

But had I just experienced first-hand, someone using - no, not using, stealing my food?

How am I going to find out when I can't bloody speak!?

I stood there for a few moments thinking of what the worst that could happen if I spoke to her:

1. She could ignore me - not so bad.
2. She could give me a nasty look and still ignore me - again, not so bad.
3. She could suddenly lash out and hit me with the massive spoon she had in her hand - that would be kind of bad, but seriously unlikely.

What if I just dipped my hand in the bag of spinach when she wasn't looking and threw some in my pasta?

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. . . . I couldn't do it . . . .

I took a deep breath and did it - I spoke.

'Is that my spinach?' I asked.

She looked at me in not exactly the nicest way possible, but neither in the meanest way. The kind of look I would get if, say, Buddha was in the kitchen and I asked him why he was a bit of a fatty. That kind of look.

'No,' she whispered.

'OK,' I whispered.

But then I thought how would I know if she was telling the truth or not!? I couldn't ask her any more questions! When and where did you get it, for example.

I had to settle for a whispered 'no'.

I wasn't satisfied.

WHERE'S MY BLOODY SPINACH!?

Later on that day, I asked my mate, who also lives there, if he knew where my spinach had vanished to.

'I finished it off,' he said calmly whilst making a cuppa.

'What?'

'You told me to.'

' . . . What . . . When?'

'When I had that couscous, remember?'

' . . . '

'Cuppa?'

So that was that: I was losing my memory and I had broken a Buddhist nun's vow to remain silent.

My bad.

Sorry, Mr Buddha.

www.gavinwhyte.co.uk

Post track:  
The Cinematic Orchestra - Everyday - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vBeKgoqVopk
 

G-Man - Master of the Universe

For a few weeks I've felt strange. Distant. Detached. Quite like an alien. I watch people go about their daily routines but feel separate from all of it. It's not a negative feeling as such, just weird.

I've also felt like something needs doing, but I don't know what that thing is. And what brought on mild anxiety was that this unknown task had a time limit!

Christmas day was spent with my family, but the only company I wanted was my own. I just wanted to sit and be. My family hadn't done anything wrong, I simply had a desire to be alone. This wish was granted on Boxing Day (26th Dec) when I spent all day by myself. The sense of relief was overwhelming.

I felt like a scrooge but I couldn't resist the urge for some alone time.

When the clock struck 00:00 on the 1st Jan 2013, I was sat alone in my room on my meditation cushion, and that was exactly where I wanted to be. I went to bed not long after.

Last week I decided to do some yoga. I used to practise on a daily basis but haven't done for a while.

What a difference it made!

The day after, I felt like a new man.

That strange, anxiety-type feeling flew away not leaving a trace of its presence.

I felt light on my feet. More present. Colours were more vibrant. Sounds were crisp and clear. But it was my mental well-being which had been affected the most.

I was quiet inside.

My thoughts had ceased and any thoughts that did arise, I could take control of; they were no longer in control of me.

Do you know what that feels like? To be in charge?

It's like being in charge of the remote when the person who's usually in charge leaves the room to take a piss. Any thought which is of no use, you skip. Then the next one arises . . . any good? No? Skip!

My attention wasn't being led astray by them. Which meant my attention was here - now.

The Now is where God hides - well, at least my own definition of what God is.

You will have your own definition, and therefore we will all have a different God, but I believe there is one God which lies beyond all definitions - a bit of a contradiction, I know. But for as long as I can remember, my relationship with my definition of the G-Man, has been a healthy active one.

I ask questions regularly and get answers.

Problems get solved.

Help comes when I ask for it.

I'm not sure how it works, I just know it does.

'I pray and coincidences happen. I stop praying and coincidences stop.' Archbishop of Canterbury.

This week, though, I felt such a strong urge - and there is no other way of saying it, but I had such a strong desire to know G-Man - The Master of the Universe.

I'm not religious and didn't have a religious upbringing. My Nan always spoke about Jesus and my Mum has always loved to watch and sing along to Songs of Praise, but that's as religious as my family get. So I have no religious foundation for the beliefs I hold.

This strong desire to know G-Man came hand in hand with the amazing feeling of being at peace.

All of my desires, goals and ambitions, seemed to take a backseat, for I had eternity to make them a reality, so therefore any striving I had had ceased to be, creating loads of inner space. The past also dissolved, leaving the present moment to bloom.

Later on in the day, I was walking out of my room to have a shower, when the top of a blue bookmark, which was in a book called West Yorkshire Folk Tales, caught my attention. There was nothing special about the bookmark - in fact, I could only see about 1cm of it, but, nevertheless, I had a strong feeling to go and check it out.

I walked over to it and slowly pulled it out of the book, revealing one word at a time.

This is what it said:

GO

INSIDE

TO

GREET

THE

LIGHT

This gave rise to a massive grin across my chops and a feeling of pure joy.

This is how G-Man works.

You know when you've been touched by the divine. You feel it. You feel in tune with something supreme and your core resonates with it.

Me telling you this is really of no value because words will always only point to the experience, they are not the experience. It's like mistaking the menu for the dishes it represents.

I am merely telling you about the experience for no other reason than to make it clear that it has happened, and that you don't have to be religious or go to church for the G-Man to give you a helping hand.

Like a child, G-Man likes your attention.

Give your definition of G-Man some attention, and watch what happens.

Even if it's just for an experiment.

. . . I've continued with my yoga practice too.

(Music plays such a big part in my life, so from now on I'm going to put a link to a piece of music I like for you to listen to. If you like it, cool . . . if not, that's cool too.)

www.gavinwhyte.co.uk

Boards of Canada - Macquarie Ridge - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZKSM-jyQh3o

  

Instructions for Life

With it being the last day of 2012, I think what I'm about to share with you is rather appropriate. It's something to take into the new year with you. Kind of like a Baz Luhrmann ending to the year.

It's a set of instructions written by the Dalai Lama and was given to me as a Christmas gift by my younger sister.

The instructions consist of nineteen points.

Here goes:

1. Take into account that great love and great achievements involve great risk.

2. When you lose, don't lose the lesson.

3. Follow the three Rs:

Respect for self

Respect for others and

Responsibility for all your actions

4. Remember that not getting what you want is sometimes a wonderful stroke of luck.

5. Learn the rules so you know how to break them properly.

6. Don't let a little dispute injure a great friendship.

7. When you've realised you've made a mistake, take immediate steps to correct it.

8. Spend some time alone every day.

9. Open your arms to change, but don't let go of your values.

10. Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer.

11. Live a good, honourable life. Then when you get older and think back, you'll be able to enjoy it a second time.

12. A loving atmosphere in your home is the foundation for your life.

13. In disagreements with loved ones, deal only with the current situation. Don't bring up the past.

14. Share your knowledge. It's a way to achieve immortality.

15. Be gentle with the earth.

16. Once a year, go someplace you've never been before.

17. Remember that the best relationship is one in which your love for each other exceeds your need for each other.

18. Judge your success by what you had to give up in order to get it.

19. Approach love and cooking with reckless abandon.  

 

See you in 2013.
 
: )

www.gavinwhyte.co.uk

Give Your Worries To The Angels

It's only natural that doubt arises when questioning our purpose in life.

What if we're not doing what we're supposed to be doing?

What if we're wasting our time doing something that isn't relevant to our calling?

What if we end up squeezed up to our last breath like in a sardine tin, still not knowing what we were supposed to be doing?

Or even worse, what if our purpose suddenly makes itself known to us as our last breath is released?

That doesn't sound ideal to me.

Whenever I get into this state of uncertainty I become aware of what life is trying to tell. I look out for symbolic smoke signals and signs. So what happened next was I received an email from someone who I had only met twice before whilst training as a bereavement support worker. In the email she asked if I would sign two copies of my book for her. One of them was for herself and the other she had bought as a Christmas gift for a friend.

After signing the books, my friend stressed the fact that the reason she had bought a copy for her friend was because her friend was into angels. I felt like she was drilling this into me. She said it several times. After the meeting I got thinking about my book and how people perceive it. It never really occurred to me that it was a book about angels - when clearly, it is!

Shortly after, when I was alone, I asked the question, 'Am I supposed to be working in the field of angels?'

Kindred Spirit magazine popped into my head, so I went out and bought a copy. I flicked through it and it contained article after article on angels. I was drawn to an article by Jacky Newcomb, who later I found out, she was known as the Angel Lady. I had never heard of her or her books, but I felt an urge to send her a copy of my book - this I did on Christmas eve.

I like to listen to music whilst writing, so whilst out walking I asked out loud 'Should I order an angel CD?' (I had a CD by Llewellyn in mind). I looked to my right and there was a small white feather dancing in the wind in front of me. Now, I'm not at all widely educated on angels, but I know that a white feather is taken as a sign that you have been heard, that you are being watched over and you are not alone.

I have recently ordered the CD by Llewellyn.

Since then, ideas have been pouring in as to what I can write about, and I truly feel that I'm back on track with my calling.

Last night I was at my sister's. She was panicking because she couldn't find a much needed dummy so my one year old niece could fall soundly asleep. I popped out to the local store to see if they had any - but it was Christmas evening - nowhere would be open. I drove back and updated her. In the kitchen I saw her keyring on her keys. It's coin-like and on the outside it says, 'Give your worries to the angels.'

'Help me find a dummy,' I whispered.

'Gav,' said my sister, 'check the ball pool (which my niece had got for Christmas) in the dining room.'

I dipped my hand in the brightly coloured balls and pulled out a dummy. I smiled. 'Thanks,' I said.

That's another thing - I was always told to say thank you when you have been helped or assisted by an ethereal being.

I'm aware of how feminine angels are portrayed, but guys, don't let this put you off.

I don't know what angels are. I don't know who they are. I don't really know how they work, or even if they exist, for that matter!! But I can speak from experience, that something happens when I call on them for help and advice.
  
Take the advice from my sister's keyring - GIVE YOUR WORRIES TO THE ANGELS (just to see what happens). 

www.gavinwhyte.co.uk

Woodland Walk

Solitude is like medicine to me.

I like the company of others, don't get me wrong, but spending time alone, especially in nature, is something I find priceless.

I recently walked to a nearby wood which is part of the the Woodland Trust - a charity I've just joined. The wood was Wither Wood in Denby Dale, West Yorkshire.

There's something about being in a wooded area which I find very therapeutic and exciting. I can remember repeatedly watching Robin Hood Prince of Thieves when I was a boy. I loved how it was good guy V bad guy in a wood.

Did I want to be Robin Hood?

Damn right I did!

When I finally arrived at my destination (which was at 11am - I set off at 8:30am) the first thing I did was sit on a bench and pour myself a hot drink from my flask. I'm not a fan of flasked tea - is anyone? - so instead of tea or coffee I decided to put in half a cinnamon stick and a spoon full of honey.

I drank nearly all of it whilst looking over the valley and listening to my surroundings.

Blissful.

The sun shot golden rays through the almost bare canopy, silhouetting a couple of squirrels as they sat on branches eating acorns. Blue tits, great tits, coal tits, black birds, magpies and robins all came to pay me a visit and to sing me their own version of nature's song.

Dog walkers plodded past, always commenting on how amazing the morning was. Their dogs bounced ecstatically ahead, not getting too far without stopping and turning around to make sure their masters were following.

I set off walking again and did a tour of the wood, which took about an hour. The ground was carpeted with yew tree needles and sycamore and oak leaves. It was very boggy in places but this seasonal rug seemed to soak it up, adding a spring in my step in the process.

Held in my hand was the Woodland Trust Leaf identification swatch book; a free gift when you join the charity. This made it so much easier to identify the trees who were keeping me company on my tour.

For about ten minutes I stood and watched three squirrels in one oak tree. One of them was staring at me barking and screaming. I wasn't even anywhere near, but I must've come across as a threat. Have you heard a squirrel bark? It's a strange noise. Not something you expect coming from such a creature. It kind of sounded like a depressed firework without the bang. . . if you can imagine that.

Later on in the day when I was telling my family about my little trip, I was surprised that both of my sisters asked the same question: What music did you listen to?

Anybody who knows me knows how much I love music. But there's a time and place for it. And walking in nature isn't either of them.

I can't imagine sticking my earphones in and ignoring the sounds of nature. How much I would've missed if I had!

For me, a walk is very much a sensory treat. My senses come alive and anything mental which may be taking up space, soon evaporates. This is why they recommend a walk in nature if you suffer from a mental illness or if you just 'want to get a way from it all'.

If you would like more information about the Woodlands Trust, visit: www.woodlandtrust.org.uk

You could be helping a lot by joining for less than £3 a month.

Happy walking. :-)

www.gavinwhyte.co.uk

Honesty and Muffins

Today, a work colleague told me about something which had recently happened to her.

Diane returned to her car to find somebody had clipped her wing mirror. The actual mirror hadn't smashed and she luckily found the back cover lying in front of her car intact. It simply just had to be fastened on.

I best mention here that Diane is a postal worker, and sometimes we postal workers will use our cars to navigate around our deliveries. This is what she was doing on this specific day. After discovering her wing mirror had been hit, she got in her car to move it to her next stop. As she parked her car a driver pulled up behind her so close that she had no room to manoeuvre.

'Great,' she thought, 'he has blocked me in.'

A young West Indian man got out of the car and approached her.

Not knowing what to expect, Diane was a bit stunned when he said, 'Excuse me, did I clip your mirror back there?'

'Somebody did, yes,' she said.

He had followed her to own up and he fixed it for her there and then. He even offered her money for a new one but she refused.

One more thing to mention about Diane is that she had made a batch of double choc chip muffins which she was selling at £1 each to raise money for Children in Need.

'I'll tell you what you can do for me,' she said to the young man, 'you can buy a muffin for a pound. The money will go to Children in Need.'

To which he happily did.

'You know,' she said to me, 'I really want to stress that he was black. Young black lads get a lot of bad press. What he did really comforted me.'       

It was a nice story, then she added, 'And out of my £5 ingredients, I made £105 for charity.'

Well done, Diane J
www.gavinwhyte.co.uk

Spiritual Healing

I received a text at the beginning of the week asking if I could attend a spiritual healing group for moral support.

A random request, but I accepted.

It was being held at a local spiritualist church. I've never been to one so I had no idea what to expect. All I knew (or thought I knew) was that these churches trained people to communicate with the deceased.

They were like bootcamps for psychics.

With only minutes to spare, I walked into the small church, had a pee in the gents and made my way to the main hall where I saw my acquaintance sat in a circle made up of nine people; all of which were over fifty-five. She smiled and stood up to greet me and thanked me for coming.

'I've no idea what to expect,' I whispered.

'Me neither,' she said. 'You might get some healing though.'

'I'm cool with a bit of healing.'

She told me to fill in a 'Patient form'. It asked for basic details like name, address and why I was there. For that section I simply wrote, 'moral support'. I couldn't think of anything that needed healing. I looked up from writing and noticed a small grey-haired shih tzu walking around the place. It walked over to me and I gave a it a little stroke. It sniffed at my leg for a while before making itself comfy in it's little basket at the front of the hall.

Psychic dog? I thought. I've heard about those.

I joined the group and sat down. Everybody stared, like when you walk into a local pub when you're not a local.

I smiled.

In the centre of the circle was a tall table with a lit candle and a book of names.

A thin lady with short grey hair stood up and said we were to begin. It was time for the introductory prayer. We were told to shut our eyes and lower our heads.

A song started from the sound system. Soothing vocals and harmonies. It had a very Irish feel to it.

'Oh Father,' the lady said, 'thank you for giving us this opportunity to heal. May your healing energy surround us and support us. May your protection reach every being. May you bless the animal kingdom. May you give us strength and guidance in our lives. Ahmen.'

The lady and another, one who looked a few years younger and spoke with a geordie accent, got up and each stood behind a different person with their hands resting on the sitting person's shoulders. Everyone had their eyes shut. A part from me, of course. When the prayer was complete I was ready to stretch until I saw that everybody was motionless. My bad.

So I shut my eyes and began to meditate.

The Irish music was constantly on in the background. I really enjoyed it. I must ask them for the CD afterwards, I thought.

The two healers spent about six or seven minutes with each person. When it got to my turn, the geordie one came and sat next to me.

'Do you know what to expect, love?' she whispered. She was leaning on her knees with her elbows. Her eyes were super green.

I said I didn't have any expectations.

'Well, you might experience heat or a tingling sensation. You might have a healing crisis . . .'

A healing crisis? That doesn't sound good.

'For example,' she continued, 'if you have a cold, your symptoms might worsen afterwards. But they'll soon balance out. It's the same with any healing. Basically, healing energy is going to come from the spirits, through me, who's acting like a channel, and into you.' She smiled.

'OK,' I said. 'That's fine.'

She got up to start then sat back down again. 'You don't mind being touched, do you?' she added.

I shook my head - but I guess it depends where, I thought. I didn't want to have that kind of crisis.  

So I shut my eyes and she stood behind me with her hands resting very gently on my shoulders.

The music had stopped at this point so I could hear everything in the room:

• Stomachs bubbling and churning.
• The woman opposite me had leather shoes on. Her legs crossed at her ankles. She was rubbing them together making an annoying squeaky noise. ('WOMAN, I'M TRYING TO BE HEALED HERE!)
• Then the fireworks started outside. Mainly rockets followed by the occasional explosion.
• A boiler that kept on starting and stopping every forty-five seconds.
• The round man in the circle tried clearing his throat discreetly but ended up choking himself.
• The shih tzu snored like a trooper in the background.

It's strange where your mind takes you when you're keen for stillness. It'll do anything but be still.

That dog. Because I could hear it snoring my attention got diverted to that damn dog.

'If I had a shih tzu, what would I call it?'

Gav, you're supposed to be thinking about not thinking. Silence!

'I think I'd call it Sue.'

Gav . . . stop it . . .

An image of myself in a field with the dog popped into my head.

'If it wouldn't poo and I was losing patience with it, I'd shout "Shit, Sue!"'

A massive grin appeared on my face which I couldn't hide at all.

The healer took her hands off and I was ready to say thank you and get up, but she replaced them onto my chest for a couple of minutes.

Then it was over.

I opened my eyes and said thank you. She asked if I would like a glass of water to which I said yes.

My acquaintance smiled at me, who was having healing done at the same time.

Despite the inappropriate canine thoughts, I was relaxed and felt good.

Now it was time for the closing prayer.

This time it was the geordie lady who stood up to speak.

'Oh Father,' she said, 'thank you for all of your healing energy hear today. Thank you for touching every one of us. May your protection continue to reach every being on the planet. May you continue to give us strength and guidance in our lives. Ahmen.'

We all said thank you to one another and got ready to leave.

'You're always welcome,' said the thin lady with short grey hair.

'Thank you,' I said.

It was a nice experience. How much healing I received, I have no idea.

www.gavinwhyte.co.uk