The local meditation sangha is such a precious space for me.

An inner sanctuary of peace becomes accessible when we gather, prepare the hall, sit down on our zafus, carefully placed over the mats, in a circle. The lights are softened, some candle and incense are lit, the bell is invited, and we and everything around us fall silent.

Every muscle in my body eventually relaxes, physical and emotional heaviness are gradually released, the exhalation deepens and slows down, the fog and buzz in my stormy mind dissipate in due course. I can begin to feel a clearing in the vast forest of my life (1). When I can experience space inside, I can hear my breathing, and I can notice the Silence around me. Thick, palpable silence. Nothing needs to be done here now. Just breathing. Just being.

Our collective intention and silent presence touches a powerful, underlying well of refreshing stillness.

Inner wounds are lovingly soothed.

We practice the trainings.

Listen deeply.

Flow as a drops of water in a river.

We smile.

Offer the merit.

Then the bell is invited to integrate and seal our practice.

We go home.

Beautiful.

An indescribable gift.

“You can’t buy peace in the supermarket”, Thay (2) says.

Some of us happily carry the weight of pulling this insight-cultivation wagon forward, and keep it open for those who wish to join at any point up the mountain. We prepare the weekly session. Communicate it to the group. Ask for volunteers to carry out each task. Fill in for all the tasks no one raises their hand up for. Bring a sutra to read, some tea, incense, candles and something to light them up with. Join the association building monthly meeting. Forward all practice and retreat related emails. Manage our social network platform. Attend the requests to join our community. Organize events with the rest of sanghas in the region. Transfer the practice online when needed. A long trail of small yet essential chores to be carried out.

We joyfully water our community garden, trusting we will see it blossom and savor its fruits when the season comes. Tending to it is a rewarding long term commitment, it requires both discipline and letting go. We have tasted the nourishing flavor of Community before: it is the sweetest soul food.

In some periods there is an organic renewal of sangha members. In a global world people come and go. We were at that junction about a year and a half ago. So we give everyone time to fully arrive, make themselves at home, learn the practice and slowly start to contribute in however manner they consider possible for them. Selfless contribution is a sangha pillar.

But it frequently takes long for people to be voluntarily active and engaged when they finally find a place where they are accepted and honored exactly as they are, met at precisely their own pace, without judgment. Such a place is unfortunately rare.

When this integration period becomes too long and generalized, the passivity in the sangha becomes exhausting. Individualism. Lack of engagement. The consumer mindset. And here is when my sadness and disappointment may arise, even anger and frustration occasionally. When many sangha members remain in a receiving disposition, unwilling or unable to give, there is an imbalance. Sometimes they relax in their need to be nourished. It is understandable. However it is not sustainable in the long term.

But passivity doesn’t arise only in the sangha.

It strongly reflects the world.

A society where individuals are not habituated to feeling they are part of a collective they care about and can contribute to. Where we pay to obtain something instantly. Ideally something gratifying.

The fruits of meditation practice are not always attained instantly, though. It takes patience, infinite patience, unraveling, deconstructing oneself gently, maitri. Time. Often a long time. The good news is, every step of the journey brings about a certain degree of stillness.

Entering a space that doesn’t require payment can be perplexing, and leave one in a rather unfamiliar role. If our engagement is most times based on a money exchange, when our expectations are not fulfilled, we might complain. It would be our right as customers. We commonly live our lives as consumers. When we do, we forget our own responsibility to contribute to a more fulfilling outcome. We expect to receive something for our money. Something, coming from outside. To appease the turmoil inside.

But. What we are longing for, in meditation, will not come from outside. It can’t.

The key sits inside of us. Awaiting behind soft silent veils.

It requires our letting go. Our being present. Our engaged participation. Being in touch with our aspiration. We will receive what we long for by opening up to it, and making the journey inward. And we will receive it in equivalent measure to what we offer in the practice, to ourselves and others.

Peace cannot be attained by paying more, going faster or pushing harder to receive it from outside. It is not a passive, demanding self, who can achieve it. It is an internal affair that requires being gently active. Active in our intention, in our patience, in our slowing down. Engaged in our contemplation. In carefully deconstructing our familiar sense of self. In questioning ourselves “are we sure?”. In our contribution to the collective gathering. Active in our community. Simple acts. So simple, they can easily be missed.

It requires being engaged in exactly the ways we usually wouldn’t in this hurried, civilized world.

(1) from the poem “Clearing” by Martha Postlewaite

(2) Thich Nhat Hanh