By Rio Branham

I think this is my favorite time of year. As a kid I would get excited to see the leaves begin to change colors because it meant that my birthday was coming up. Alas, birthdays tend to be less exciting as we get older. A few years ago around my birthday I was feeling particularly melancholic and wrote this poem that I want to start off with today.

Present’s Path
I tend to fear as my day of birth draws nearAnnounced by autumn's brilliant decay
Brief and liminal the colorful calm
The boundary of a year to come and one now gone
Plans for renewal, the prospect of change
Exceeded most oft by winters sloth
Longing for old, hoping for new
Two sides of a coin, each must disappoint
Why accept the marks of supposed significance?
Every day is a day of birth, of death to some, a moment between
Why let time be lost to future and past?
I’d rather be in present’s path

I’ve been thinking a lot about change, we’ve officially entered the fall season, the leaves have begun to change and it’s finally cooling down outside. These transitionary periods always present an opportunity to pause and reflect, and sometimes to despair about how short summer seems and the fact that Walmart has already put out some Christmas decor.

Our retreat last weekend was wonderful. I enjoyed it quite a bit and it did give me some time to think, introspect, and lean into a shared practice of silence and presence with our community, my chosen family. But retreat too has changed for me over the years. This year we were at a new location, a different time of year, a different group of people, and the first retreat where Christpoher and Gretchen Sensei were not as present.

These transitions aren’t always easy or comfortable. Change is hard, but change is inevitable. The first two years I attended our retreat it was the most fulfilling thing I did for myself each of those years. The last two years where I’ve been more involved in the planning and operation of the retreat, it has become something else for me. Instead of a time primarily focused on myself and my own spiritual development, my focus has had to shift towards others. My intention for being a practice leader has always been to give back to a community that has been so impactful to me, and try to do my part to continue to offer that space and the spirit of Come As You Are to others. Turns out I’m a bit selfish and had become attached to what retreat used to be. Hoping that it would always stay the same. But of course we know that these kinds of attachments and expectations only contribute to our Dukkha, our dissatisfaction and suffering. And so I had to reframe, instead of thinking, how do I get the same things out of retreat as I used to, I had to shift my thoughts towards what was there to learn from the present situation. Turns out quite a lot, as is usually the case. Rather than trying to make something fit into a memory of how it used to be, how do I participate in creating something new and meaningful for the present moment. Some of my favorite moments from retreat were when the practice leaders had to adapt. Gwen and Steve both added some impromptu meditations that weren’t pre-planned and I found them both very meaningful. This was because they were tuned in to the present moment and allowed and trusted themselves to offer what felt appropriate. I’m grateful for all I learn from the other practice leaders.

But something didn’t change. The spirit and energy of our community still persists. Through our shared practice of rituals, compassionate listening, allowing ourselves and each other to keep coming as we are, and trying not to take things too seriously, we are able to preserve some core essence of what our fellowship is founded on.

I want to take a quick census. We asked those who are first timers to raise your hand. Now raise your hand if you’ve been here between 2-10 times.

Now raise your hand if you started coming to our fellowship within the last year. Who has been coming between 1-5 years? Has anyone been coming longer than that? Last one, raise your hand if you have never met or don’t know who our founder Christopher Sensei is?

I’d love to hear from some of you, whether you’re newer to our Sangha or you’ve been around since the beginning, what have you observed that has changed or not changed in this community since you’ve started coming?

I’m fascinated by how the participants, the operation, the leadership, and even the location of this sangha has changed, yet something remains the same over time. We had people at retreat who had never attended our Sunday gatherings, as well as someone who started attending a Buddhist book club with Christopher before the fellowship even began. And I heard from both veterans and newcomers that this community is meaningful and that they want it to continue. I feel the same.

But this presents a seeming paradox; we know about impermanence, we can’t hold on to the past, and yet there is some abstract idea of what this community is that has continued to live on. And I’m not talking just about our adolescent 13 year old sangha. There are threads that tie us back to other Buddhist traditions. To Christopher’s teachers, Rev. Gyomay and Koyo Kubose and the bright dawn school. To Pure Land and Shin Buddhism, and of course to the Buddha himself.

What I love about looking back at our lineage like that is to recognize the importance of adaptability. The Buddha was not satisfied with the spiritual institutions of his time which led him to go out and search for a better way to address the suffering he saw around him. Not long after his death there popped up different schools and ideologies of Buddhism because he refused to appoint a successor. As Buddhism travelled from Nepal and India to South-East Asia, to China, Korea, and Japan it evolved and took on many different forms. The people who encountered these ideas and found them meaningful adapted them to their circumstances and social environments. Honen and Shinran rejected the way Buddhism was being practiced in their time, realizing that it was not serving them and others the best it could. Rev. Gyomay Kubose set out to establish a uniquely American form of Buddhism, knowing that it would need to be adapted for it to be of most use to Americans. And Christopher Sensei adapted once again, all that he had learned to our specific community here in Salt Lake City, Utah. What a journey of ideas. An earlier version of myself would view this constant re-imagining of Buddhism as a flaw. There should be just one, correct, best Buddhism. But I’ve come to see that it’s not a flaw, I now see it as a core element of what Buddhism has to offer.

The Buddha himself in the Alagaddupama Sutra talks about the importance of recognizing when we need to be adaptable to change. In the simile of the raft he talks about someone who, needing to cross a body of water, builds a raft. Once they have reached the other shore, he asks, what should be done with the raft? Should the person carry the raft with them in case they need it again, or leave it behind, knowing that it has served its purpose. Here is how he ends this teaching:

I have taught the Dharma compared to a raft, for the purpose of crossing over, not for the purpose of holding onto. Understanding the Dharma as taught compared to a raft, you should let go even of Dharmas, to say nothing of non-Dharmas.¹

The Dharma, the teachings, the rituals, the meditation, the sangha, is all for the purpose of crossing over. The bodies of water we need to cross over can be varied. It’s our suffering, our delusions, our attachments. The raft of the Dharma is for weathering the storms of our lives. It’s meant to be grasped onto, while it is useful.

This is how I view our community in the present moment. We are collectively building a raft. We’re always adding new parts and taking away others, every time someone new joins us or someone leaves, we have to make slight adjustments so that the raft can fit all of us and offer what is needed to those of us trying to cross to the other shore. This constant state of flux requires us to be adaptable. But we do not need to let go of this raft while it still keeps us afloat, until we do reach the other shore.

I’ll admit that, like most of my dharma talks, it’s just a way for me to work out some of the things that I’ve been wrestling with in my mind. It’s been challenging going from just being a participant who showed up on Sundays to someone who sits up here and gives talks. This community has years of history that I was not a part of and it’s a daunting task to try and preserve the legacy of what Christopher Sensei intended for this community. But I have to learn to let go of some of those expectations. Accept that this sangha can continue, but it will change. It will change because of me and the other practice leaders are not and can never be Christopher. But it will also change because of all of you. I didn’t join our community because I thought that what was being taught here was the capital T Truth. I stuck around because it was an honest and authentic effort to practice the dharma through community. Not perfect, but sincere.

So if this little community of weirdo Buddhists means something to you, please keep coming. Show up and be you. Help us build something that matters, not because it’s founded on ancient wisdom, not because we are saving the world, but because it helps us weather the storms that we face today, right here, right now.

I hope to be able to be more of a student and less of a teacher, to learn from you all, to connect with you all, to be part of our community, because it continues to keep me afloat.

Namu Amida Butsu

1 Ajahn Geoff Ṭhānissaro, Alagaddūpama Sutta, MN 225