The gate out of suffering: the collected talks of Ajahn Sumedho

"Being the knowing is the gate out of suffering." 108 talks Luang Por Sumedho 1978-2010

I'm enjoying listening to the collected talks of Ajahn Sumedho. It's an impressive body of teachings. There are 108 recorded talks in total given between 1978 and 2010 covering varied aspects of the dharma and practice all delivered in Ajahn Sumedho's inimitable style. Some are serious in tone, others more light hearted, with many of his droll observations on the deluded states of Samsara and our preposterous habits punctuated by his distinctive laugh, which at first I found irritating but now appreciate for its cutting through wisdom.
Each talk begins with a homage to the Buddha:

"Namo Tassa Bhagavato Arahato Samma Sambuddhasa'. 

It sounds like most of the talks were given early in the morning on various retreats he has led over the years and it's possible to hear different ambient sounds in the background; birdsong, insects, different types of transport all of which give clues as to where the talks were recorded (some in Europe, some in Asia). Some of the talks contain interesting topical references such as the 9/11giving good insights into how  political and social events can be understood dharmicaly.
In essence most of the talks are about emptiness, the 'deathless', and our need to trust this moment, and realise the reality of anicca (impermanence), dukkha (unsatisfactoriness) and anatta (not-self). I found the talk on 'Kamma and rebirth' particularly helpful. Reincarnation he argues is more of a Hindu concept and I found his explaination of how we tend to constantly give rebirth to negative mental states by constantly seeking out the same 'wombs' that we are accustomed to very helpful.
I managed to upload most of the talks onto my iPod nano. Strange to think how much talking you can squeeze into a gadget not much bigger than a postage stamp. I've been listening to the talks in various locations including on the underground, not systematically- I'm a shuffler! I also listen to the talks late at night in bed with the lights out. The lack of distraction improves my concentration and with the earpieces in there's this strange audio affect I notice where the sound of my breath seems amplified, and I can hear Ajahn Sumedho deep resonant voice and at the same time witness constant change as I hear the steady inhalation and exhalation of my breath. The breath being born, dying, being born, dying...


(Thanks to N for giving this CD to me and to the Forest Sangha and supporters in Malaysia who supported its production).

Mine? Yours?

Paint detail, shop divide Leytonstone High Road. Taking sides?

Buddha in a box: the transmission of Buddhism to the west.

Every year thousands of Buddha rupas are transported from the East to the West in cramped inhumane conditions in the holds of aeroplanes and ships, often with little food or room to move, a few end up in temples, most end up in garden centres or gift shops. It doesn't seem to bother them...The dharma doesn't come boxed.

'Winding your way down on Baker Street...': Gerry Rafferty and samsara

'Another year and then you'd be happy.  Just one more year and then you'd be happy.  But you're cryin, you're cryin now'

I took this photograph exiting the underground at Baker Street station. I didn't have time to compose the shot and missed the persons head, though I don't think it spoils the image too much. I like the geometry, the vertical bars of the fencing, the horizontal axis of the track. Once I uploaded it I couldn't help but think about the Gerry Rafferty single Baker Street, and made a rush for You Tube to listen to it again, playing it several times over at a high volume.  It's got to be one of the the most perfect pop songs ever recorded and captures perfectly complex emotions and behaviour we all may be familiar with: the hope for a better life (giving up addictions, settling down) and the compulsion to stay where we are, caught in rebirth, repeating ourselves and our suffering endlessly, in Rafferty's case through alcoholism. Samsara! This song doesn't seem to age and if anything becomes more poignant the more you listen to it as you get older. Bitter, sweet and wonderfully human. When I hear the rapturous saxophone riff I'm magically transported back to a very particular time and place in 1978...'another crazy day...'