View full issue in PDF - The Mindfulness Bell

sangha PRACTICE
The Sound of the Bell
by Susan Hadler
It’s Sunday afternoon in mid-
August and still hot when I arrive
at Carolyn’s for the bell training.
Eric is standing at the end of the
upstairs hallway, smiling and bowing,
showing the way to Carolyn’s
door. The first thing I see is the
big bell sitting on its red and gold
cushion in the middle of the room.
It seems to belong here, surrounded
by Buddhas sitting, Buddhas standing,
pictures of Thay and the Dalai
Lama, angels and saints and green
growing plants. Carolyn offers us
cool water and grapes fresh from
her neighbor’s arbor.
We sit on cushions circling
the bell. Mary arrives and Carolyn
begins, “The bell master holds and
protects the space for everyone.”
Yes, that is how I’ve felt with the
Sunday Night Sangha. Held. Safely and quietly. No need to worry
about appearances or intrusions. Space to calm down and open up to
myself, to bring my body, emotions, and thoughts together in one place,
one time, a little island in a calm sea surrounded by little islands. A
gift beyond measure.
I remember Thay sitting so peacefully in front of the meditation
hall in Plum Village, monks and nuns behind him, laypeople in front.
Thay sat in silence and I sat in silence letting anxiety about what would
happen next disappear like steam rising from a cup of tea. Thay didn’t
seem to worry about time or schedule. He was completely present. His
presence helped me be with myself in that peaceful moment.
Carolyn tells us she invites the bell with her heart. Her heart.
Not her thoughts about when to invite the bell or how it should sound.
Her heart knows. Carolyn trusts her heart. Then she teaches us the
gatha that is recited, most often silently, by the bell inviter before
inviting the bell,
Body, speech, and mind in
perfect oneness,
I send my heart along with the
sound of the bell.
May the hearers awaken from
forgetfulness
and transcend all anxiety and
sorrow.
I love this gatha. It’s an invitation
to unload all the stuff I usually
carry around with me—self-consciousness,
defensive pride, phony
cheer, preoccupations and plans,
leftover conversations. The gatha
is a door opening to a place of
freedom.
“Now we can practice inviting
photo by Emily Whittle
the bell.” Carolyn hands the inviter
to Eric, who smiles and recites the
gatha. The bell’s pure deep voice reverberates inside the room, inside
me. Eric practices inviting the bell a few more times and hands the
inviter to Mary. Mary recites the gatha slowly and softly wakes the
bell. She waits a bit and then the rich and lovely sound surrounds us.
Mary practices inviting the bell from the side, and the bell rings out
clear and strong.
She passes the inviter to me. Holding it, I remember seeing a
nun in the Lower Hamlet standing in the grass in front of the big
bell. It was raining. She held the inviter in her hand and stood for
what seemed to me a long time. She stood in reverent silence before
she invited the bell. I admired her patience, her ability to be
with herself alone with the bell. She wasn’t in a hurry to get out of
the rain. It didn’t seem like a task for her, something to accomplish
or finish, but rather an act with meaning, as if the existence of the
bell, the inviter, and herself deserved her whole attention. I saw
this in the nun’s silent stance and the slow steady swing of her arm.
40 Summer 2004