Sangharakshita - Collected Lectures Vols I and II

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There is a similar saying attributed to the Danish-American journalist Jacob Riis — , except he said it was the hundred and first blow that split the rock. V, p2. That seems like a tacit admission that the idea that sex is an aid to kalyana mitrata spiritual friendship did form part of Triratna teaching in the past.

If it was never part of Triratna teaching, presumably the article would say so, rather than merely saying it is not part of Triratna teaching today. Subsequently, I felt compelled to speak out about this, partly in order to try and warn others, but was met with hostility and disbelief from order members. The degree of hostility and disbelief was quite a shock to me, given that Triratna members supposedly follow ethical guidelines and strive to develop greater awareness, compassion and wisdom. It is unclear how much, if any, substance there is to these supposed new safeguarding procedures; in practice, they appear to be confidential, not to say secret.

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But where were we to have it? I had recently acquired a second-hand transit van, which Graham drove, and after scouring the cottages-to-let columns of various magazines Mark and I set out in search of cheap accommodation in an attractive and peaceful location. In the course of a few weeks our search took us to the outskirts of London, to Norfolk, and to the Isle of Wight, in most of which we saw some suitable places and met some interesting people. Unfortunately they had one thing in common. They were much too expensive, and we soon realized we would have to look farther afield.

MD 9 Sangharakshita and I moved in Jan. Brandon in Suffolk, which was a Forestry Commission cottage leased to a Friend who in turn made it available to Sangharakshita. It was during this period, I think, that Mark took me to see his mother. Despite his expostulations she refused to meet me. MD 10 This is untrue. My mother did not refuse to meet Sangharakshita. She was perfectly polite, though I think a little wary of Sangharakshita. Mark had deposited me in the lounge and I could hear their angry voices in the kitchen. I was greatly struck by the resemblance between them.

She had th same long, yellow hair and much the same features. On another occasion he took me there when she was away. Perhaps a Freudian analyst could shed some light on this. Sangharakshita does seem to have a bit of a thing about my mother, he mentions her quite a lot in his memoir. It was also to spite her that, on another occasion when she was away, he had invited the girl of whom she approved to spend the night with him. This quite shocked me, revealing as it did the bitterness of his resentment towards his mother. MD 13 This never happened, it is another garbled and exaggerated account by Sangharakshita.

There was an incident in the summer of or 71, when my father went into hospital for a couple of weeks of respite care, to give my mother a break. She went off to visit her sister in Canada, and left me in charge of the house. So I invited a few friends round Padmapani was one such friend.


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I tried to tidy her bed as best as I could, but on her return from Canada, she realised that her bed had been used. But he seems to have changed and twisted the story, in order to try and portray me as a mean-spirited type of person.

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What he says about my attitude towards my mother is completely untrue. Having realized that we would have to look farther afield for our sabbatical cottage Mark and I turned our eyes towards the West Country. A friend of mine called Mike Abhaya had recently moved to Millbrook, a village in the south-east corner of Cornwall, and we decided to go and see him. In Cornwall, we had heard, there were cliff-side chalets to let and Mike might know of one that was both suitable and cheap. The drive down to Cornwall took several hours and I have vague memories of a stretch of coastal road that commanded wonderful views of the English Channel.

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A less pleasant memory related to Mark. Two-thirds of the way through our journey we turned into a field for a break. Half an hour later when we tried to leave we found we were stuck in the mud. In the end he quite lost his temper. It was due to me that he was in such a fix, he raged.

I remained where I was, reflecting on what had happened. Half an hour later Mark reappeared and we managed to manhandle the reluctant vehicle out of the mud and onto firm ground. MD 15 Sangharakshita is again twisting things in order to try and denigrate my character. Actually the farmer came and pulled us out of the field with his tractor. He was a little grumpy about having to do this. Millbrook was a small place, and we had no difficulty in finding the house where Mike was living with his wife and two small children. He did not know of a chalet that would suit us, he said, but he had a friend who might be able to help.

This friend lived up on the cliff, in one of the larger chalets, and accordingly the three of us went to see him.

Mike had told him about me and the FWBO and it was clear he did not welcome competition and felt threatened by my appearance on the scene. Fortunately one of the people with him was Malini, and she offered to show us her own chalet which was situated farther along the cliff and which she had occupied for only a few weeks. It could hardly have been smaller, consisting as it did of two tiny rooms, one of them having a picture window from which there were fine views along the coast and out to sea. I can live somewhere else.

For the next six months Mark and I followed a regular yet flexible routine. Our day began at five or six when we rose and meditated, doing either the Mindfulness of Breathing or the Metta Bhavana. When we did the latter I often had the experience of Order members sitting round me in a circle also doing the Metta Bhavana. After a quick breakfast Mark spent the rest of the day working on his partly finished dinghy, which we had transported all the way from London on top of the van, while I sat indoors working on my memoirs.

I took up the story from where I had left off, which was when my friend Satyapriya Buddharakshita and I were living at the haunted ashram in Kerala, South India. As the days and the weeks passed I wrote about how Satyapriya and I had travelled from Muvattupuzha to Kanhangad, from Kanhangad to Tiruvannamalai, from Tiruvannamalai to Bangalore, from Bangalore to Bombay Mumbai , from Bombay to Benares Varanasi , and Benares to Kusinara where we were ordained as samaneras or novice monks.

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From Kusinara we crossed the border into Nepal to Tansen and from Tansen we made our way back to Benares. Here my friend and I parted company, he going south to Ceylon Sri Lanka , while I remained in Benares with Jagdish Kashyap, who the following year, , took me up to Kalimpong, in the foothills of the Eastern Himalayas.

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It now all seemed like a dream, but it had happened to me, the writer. I emerged from the dream to prepare our meals, or to walk down to Millbrook to see Mike and to collect the bundles of mail which Buddhadasa had redirected. MD 17 Pure invention from Sangharakshita. He seemed to regard the incident as a sort of joke and perhaps he looked on his and our own sexual connection in the same light.


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I only acceded because Sangharakshita persuaded me, as his disciple, that overcoming my anti-homosexual conditioning was a necessary part of the spiritual path I was supposedly following. Every two or three weeks we drove into Plymouth, where we changed our books at the public library and bought our provisions at a supermarket, occasionally treating ourselves to a bottle of red wine. In a cheese-aisle I once saw a woman gazing at a wedge of cheese with an expression of reptilian greed. Suddenly her hand shot out and grasped the cheese as though she was a lizard or a snake.

For some reason or another the action affected me strangely and I remembered similar experiences when I was living with Kevin and Graham in Muswell Hill. For two or three weeks I had felt a great repulsion when I entered a supermarket or a delicatessen so that for a while Graham had had to do the community shopping.

In order to know another person really well one needs to have lived with them, at least for a while. I had found this to be true in connection with Kevin and Graham and was finding it to be true with regard to Mark. Even before we moved into the chalet I was well aware that my friend was very conscious of his superior social standing, particularly in relation to me, for we were often together and he had many opportunities of observing what he considered to be my working class lapses from good manners and good taste.

People are looking at us. MD 19 I have no recollection of any such incidents. At such times he himself would speak in a kind of confidential whisper. I was also aware that he was capable of losing his temper, and of behaving despicably, as he had done with regard to his mother. Culturally, we had little in common, though Mark professed to admire the poetry of John Donne, which I also did, though I cannot remember him ever quoting the poet.

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MD 20 I had first become aware of John Donne when the guitarist John Renbourn had covered one of his poems in or so. I asked Sangharakshita, and he said it was not originally a poem, but a sermon. Armed with that knowledge, I was then able to find it. He was a hard worker as every day bore witness, and in the evening he could be quite good company, especially if there was a bottle of wine between us. Probably his biggest fault, which many people might consider quite a minor one, was his habit of nagging. I had by now got used to this but one morning he kept on nagging to such an extent that I became thoroughly fed up and walked out on him.

Leaving the chalet behind me I walked along the clifftop road towards the west. It was a fine day, and as I walked my spirits rose and I experienced a wonderful sense of liberation. On and on I walked until I had covered twenty miles and found myself in Looe.