Sangha Retreat August 3rd - 7th 2016

Matthew’s Poem

‘Bring a story or a poem or a song’

And I felt stumped.

And, ‘Oh’, I thought light-headedly

‘I’ll write a poem and I’ll offer that’.

Except I don’t write poems.

But a poem on retreat is a poem with an audience,

And the audience is kind.

I love that kindness, so I decided yes.

Start at the beginning, that’s a simple rule.

I arrived and went into the house,

And saw laid out three vases full of flowers.

Two I ignored but was captured by the third

And looked and gazed and looked,

Ten minutes maybe more, enjoying it’s simplicity,

Three grasses, a nasturtium, not much more.

I guessed who’d made it,

And can’t resist repeating the title

He had when young

‘Piere Augustin, Maitre des Fleurs’,

Father Augustin, Master of the Flowers.

Who could want a lovelier name?

To us, of course, he’s John, the flowers

And grasses from just outside.

The land round East Down Centre seems like two domains

- Domain of dog and domain of horse/alpaca.

The rest is nature’s, the land below, between, around.

I’m not a flowery sort of bloke

- In naming flowers I go from buttercup to daisy but not much more,

So I love it that nature still gives itself completely, so profusely,

That I can stand enraptured at this world of bees and buttercups,

Of flowers and grasses.

I love it too that people here know

More than I, can see the little things

I always miss.

It’s like that in the kitchen too,

Enjoying the skills of others.

The vase stands near the kitchen door,

From dining room to kitchen,

A real place of transition therefore,

From the retreat’s most public open space

To that most specially set aside.

Space in retreat is special space

But, within that space, the kitchen’s space is special, or at least particular,

And how that space is held is special too.

First Rose, now Abi, each their special way, each inspiring us, holding their space.

I love being in the kitchen,

My own skills primitive, admiring

The skills of others.

And love it how, guided by Abi,

Our bits and pieces, our chops and slices,

Transform into a meal, delicious soups,

The meal that, now in the dining room,

We rightly savour and brings gratitude,

Emblem of that gratitude we feel as

Part of being here, one of all those kinds of gratitude.

Gratitude for being here, for Thay, gratitude for each other

And how we teach each other,

Gratitude for the work that people did to make this happen, gratitude to Kev and Sam - And all those gratitudes

Gently softening into love.