It has been so joyful to celebrate moving into the Guiding Teacher role with so many of you. At my most recent Wednesday Dharma Talk, a practitioner who I’ve known since my earliest days at the center asked a question,
“I have to say I remember when I first met you, some 15 years ago, when you came to a tea group here at CIMC, and it’s been such a joy to watch you on your path through all these years. And one of the questions that I have [is] … you must have decided in some way to teach the Dharma… so I wondered if you could say a little bit more about that. And if there was a moment or something that crystallized in you, that motivated you to pursue that.”
How moving to receive this reflection coming from someone who I’ve been together with in Sangha for some years and who is part of my memory of our community as I first encountered it.
And yet, the question gave me pause. Had there been such a moment? I reflected on a moment when I felt so grateful to have encountered the teachings that I vowed to say ‘yes’ to any request that came to me to support this lineage of practice: stuffing envelopes, collecting book donations, cleaning bathrooms, arranging cushions. I thought of another moment over late-night pizza when a fellow regular at Thursday Morning Retreats recommended I join his volunteer group teaching in a Massachusetts state prison. As it turned out, what I shared first in response to the question, and of course it goes without saying, is that I’m a student 99% of the time and a teacher 1% of the time. And so while it might not be the answer that was being sought, the most striking truth for me to express was that, again and again, there are moments where I do decide to take on the role of dharma teacher—and that those moments aren’t one, but many.
I didn’t understand much about those moments until some time ago, when they became very difficult. It was a period during which on each occasion when it was time to choose to step into the role, I felt deeply ambivalent at best, and painfully resistant at worst. I was plagued with doubt. For some months, I trusted in patience and my own individual practice to see how things might change. Eventually, I confided in Narayan, who has for years been my closest mentor, and now Co-Guiding Teacher alongside Larry. She (and we) held this troubled tangle gently and after some months of reflecting together she shared something she saw in me which ushered in a significant shift. She pointed out that, no matter the doubt, at any time when she saw or heard me teach, she could sense a clear and genuine quality of affection in me for those I was teaching. As I began to reflect and investigate, I found it was, in fact, affection that was mixed with admiration. This, I discovered, was the current moving me through these moments of making the choice to step into the teaching role. And ever since, it has become the thing I look forward to the most about teaching, the affectionate admiration for our community: from newcomers to those of you who have been at CIMC from the beginning.
Not too long ago I was asked a simple and profound question which helps reveal where these currents of feeling come from. I was asked by a practitioner in a recent Practice Group: “Why, at the end of a class, a retreat, or a daylong, do so many teachers thank us for our practice?”
My answer was an expression of the cause for that affection and admiration. I’d like to restate it here, and if you are reading this, it is addressed to you:
Why do we say thank you? Well, from what I’ve witnessed, wisdom and compassion are contagious. The reduction of greed, of reactive aversion, of volitional delusion are contagious. Generosity is contagious. The joy and empowerment that come from dissolving the causes of harm are contagious. And in this world “with its devas and its maras”, with its immense collective creativity, fear, destruction, confusion, and collaboration, I am so moved to see human beings do the noble and courageous work of becoming more and more contagious in just this way. So… THANK YOU! Thank you for your practice. Said with great depth and sincerity. Thank you for each moment of practicing.
As a member of our community your life is your practice, and so your life has also become part of the lineage to which we can all be grateful—imperfections, insights, and all.
With affection, admiration, and gratitude,
Matthew Hepburn
CIMC Guiding Teacher