Travelling teacher.

For many years I travelled intensively teaching, sharing Dhamma wherever I was invited. I had almost everything I owned in my back-pack and earned the somewhat affectionate, and for me quite romantic name, of ‘Dhamma Bum.’

I lived then, as now, from the kindness of others who saw the value in generosity and supporting an earnest disciple of Dhamma.

This life suited me well, inspired as I was by the Buddha, Gandhi and David Carradine as Kwai Chang Caine, just a few of my Dhamma heros.

I would sleep on the floor in people’s houses if no bed was available and even outside when the weather was warm enough.

Each winter I would arrive in Budh Gaya, my spiritual home, to lead three months of intensive Vipassana meditation retreats at the International Meditation Centre. It was my blessed life and a great, great training in a slightly ascetic manner.

In the spring of 1998, I arrived in Israel.

Invited by my closest friend I spent the summer there teaching in the garden of the house where I stayed and giving open Dhamma talks in the park in Tel Aviv on Friday afternoons. I also taught two big retreats in Jerusalem and Tel Aviv as well as courses on two kibbutz. Each time and in every moment, I met only kindness and friendliness.

The Sangha was large and we worked together well, looking at many aspects of Dhamma study. I continually encouraged them to practice and to work hard for their own liberation.

Meditate, meditate, meditate. Let go, let go, let go. Awareness and love.

At the end of the summer I left and returned to the U.K. without any firm idea of ever returning to Israel.

This was the time when I saw the great disservice I was giving to others.

During my training, and in fact until the day he died, my teacher was always there for me. Even if he was travelling to teach in another country, his date of return was known and whatever difficulty I had, I could always wait, knowing that he would be available for me sooner or later.

At the end of my stay in Israel, for the first time in my life I understood the responsibility of the teacher.

If I encourage students to turn to Dhamma, I must be available for them when they meet some difficulty. If not, it can be as though I cast them off in a boat smiling and waving at them saying ‘have a nice time, everything will be fine,’ but giving them no-one to turn to if a storm breaks.

The foundation of Dhamma is love, and love means to take care of those we are connected to.

Teachers and students, Masters and disciples, this is perhaps the closest of all relationships.

To open yourself completely to another and ask, ‘please show me the way – even if I have so many things, I still don’t know how to be completely happy,’

The Master gives the teaching, the disciple applies it. Slowly, slowly understanding arises and the relationship grows and evolves. But this takes two people committed to serving each other. One without the other always leaves a space that must be filled.

Of course, in the end, it is this mind and the life it projects that is the teacher, but to have the presence of a Dhamma friend, one who has already walked this path, to remind us of this is invaluable.

Every day, in one way or another, I put my hands together in anjali to say ‘thank you,’ to my ordinary but wonderful life for everything it has given and shown me.

Dhamma understanding is always right in front of us - no need to look further.

May all beings be happy.