Author Archives: Satya Robyn

Letting ourselves be helped

interfaith-worcesterEverything and everyone around you is your teacher. ~ Ken Keyes     

At the weekend I said no to the offer of a cup of almond-milk hot chocolate.

We had been standing on the freezing cold streets of Worcester for a couple of hours with our Christian and Baha’i friends, advocating friendship amongst those of different faiths. I said that I’d share some of Kaspa’s cup instead, and when it arrived the sips I had were warming, sweet, creamy & chocolateylicious. It was only later that I realised I would have loved a cup of my own.

A lot of the decisions we make are made in the way I made this one. We find ourselves saying something (‘no thank you’), then make up some reasons why we said it (I only want a few gulps of hot chocolate) and only later discover other deeper layers (I was worried about Lorraine spending too much money on me and, underneath that, it makes me feel vulnerable to receive things).

I’m glad that I took the time to see those deeper layers more clearly. It reminds me how hard it is for me to be helped, and it gave me the opportunity to confess to Lorraine. It might help me to say yes next time. And maybe next time I’m in town I’ll buy myself a cup of that almond-milk chocolate.

Have you said or done anything recently that doesn’t sit right? Might there be some deeper layers?


If you’re interested in getting some help to explore the layers, Kaspa is offering our self-study Journaling Our Way Home e-course for half the usual price between now and the beginning of January.

The mouse incident

baby-mouse-by-nick-harrisLast night a mouse ran up my trouser leg.

I had cornered our cat Roshi on the stairs up from our flat. He dropped the mouse, and then suddenly the mouse was nowhere to be seen.

I squealed. I felt a soft lump up near my hip, moving fast. I wailed some more.

I’m lucky enough not to feel that level of fear very often. It rendered me utterly useless. After a short while Kaspa came along and told me to take off my trousers, and the mouse came off me with them, but if he hadn’t been there I don’t know how long I would have stood there on the stairs, petrified.

Sometimes we are too preoccupied with our own needs, our own survival, to see things very clearly. This happens in very subtle ways all the time. We manipulate our friend into spending time with us because we’re afraid of being lonely, and they silently resent it. We buy stuff because we’re afraid of feeling bored. We give advice because we’re afraid of being with the other’s pain.

The more fear, the less clearly we see. This is why it’s helpful to listen to wise others. This is why it’s helpful to sleep on things, and to recognise the fear when it’s present and look after it as best we can. This is why i’ts helpful to take refuge in something bigger than us (nature, a trusted group, the Buddha…) so what-we-take-refuge-in can slowly dissolve the fear by showering us with safety and with warmth.

Little mousey was released into the garden and we both made a full recovery. I’m smiling now, remembering the squirmy little dance I did on the stairs. Go well mousey, and go well you x

(A final reminder that if you’d like your emails to start, neatly, on the 1st of Nov, sign up for my Nourishing November: Writing Towards Healing self-study e-course today.)

Foolish Satya & blooming kindness

I am a foolish Satya.

kahlua-cupcake-by-stacyYesterday I had lunch with a friend. After taking £30 out of a cash machine we pootled around second hand book shops & a posh chocolate shop then went for lunch.

After lunch and a cupcake I went to pay and discovered that the money wasn’t in my wallet. Had I handed over the wrong note at the chocolate shop? No. Had I put it in a pocket or was it hiding somewhere in my handbag? No.

On the way home I thought it was worth stopping at the bank. I confessed to the three women behind the counter that I may have done something very silly. They asked me how much money I’d taken out. I said £30, and they handed it over to me.

I’d left the money in the cash machine, and the kind woman behind me in the queue had handed it in.

I’m telling you because rosy happiness bloomed in my chest, and I hope some of it might reach you. I’m telling you because it reminds us all to treat others in the way we’d like to be treated, and hand the money in. I’m telling you because I am grateful to that woman and to all the people who look after me when I get things wrong or when wounds get poked or when I can’t do something for myself.

People aren’t all bad, you know. That includes you.

“Peace and kindness have their best shot at establishing themselves when we accept our own inadequacy, when limitation and error become aspects of ourselves we can embrace rather than strive to mask.” ~ Henry Shukman

(To practice receiving kindness, register for Nourishing November: Writing Towards Healing)


A moment of madness (what do you really need?)

12493855_10153426762475318_6981540583415123187_oThis morning I had a moment of madness.

We’ve had a busy year here at the temple and I am very much looking forward to a week off next week. I need a rest.

I also need to re-discover my healthy habits around the internet (i.e. checking email and Facebook once a day rather than three thousand times). I decided to re-commit to this starting next week, and then I had an idea.

Maybe I could offer something to other people wanting to do the same. It’ll help me with my resolve, and help them too. I know, I’ll write an e-course! I’ll call it Nourishing November, and I could share all the resources I’ve found, and write some essays and some daily emails…

I spent the first hour of the day madly browsing the internet and jotting down notes. And then a small voice started whispering in my ear.

Is this really the right thing to be doing? Now? Just before your break? Did you say you were tired?

I slowed down for long enough to listen to the voice. I realised immediately that taking on the work of writing a new course and marketing it was completely crazy. And, as often happens when we say ‘no’ to one thing, a ‘yes’ appeared – an alternative plan. I could update our full-of-good-stuff Writing Towards Healing e-course and offer that to people who want to have a Nourishing November instead. And that’s what I’ve done.

Often, when we’re in need of rest and nourishment, we reach for our tried and tested comforts. Mine include workaholism, the internet, and sugar. Of course, our tried and tested comforts aren’t necessarily the ones that will help us to heal. They unfortunately often have the opposite effect. (Although I think sugar is a perfectly healthy coping strategy……!)

For my Nourishing November I’m going to prescribe myself time off the internet, books, cat-stroking, good food, lots of Buddhist practice and time to paint. Pause for a moment and listen for a kindly voice whispering in your ear. What do you need to prescribe yourself? How can you make it happen?

Keep me company during November. Go easy on yourself. _/\_

What terrifies me

mulled wine by rpavichSatya writes: Lately I’ve been kept awake at night by horrifying visions.

We have booked an open day for our new temple in Malvern despite not having exchanged yet (maybe faith, maybe foolishness). This will be an opportunity to show people around and to start building links with the local community.  

At three o’clock in the morning, I imagine us running out of mulled juice. Arrghgh! Imagine the terror. I lie there in the dark with my eyes wide and compose emails to the people who’ll be helping us out as volunteers, make lists of things to be bought (stepladder, doorstops) and arrange the zafus in rainbow colour order, just like they were in that shrine room in Hamburg I was jealous of. 

Why am I being kept awake by these trivialities? 

In my experience, trivialities are usually containers for more sinister and deeply affecting feelings. They act as symbols or stand-ins. We don’t want to admit to these fears, verbalise them, or even get in touch with them at all. They get covered over by layers & layers of mulled juice and lists. 

What am I really afraid of? Let’s see if I can get any closer to it…

If we run out of mulled juice, people might see me as incompetent. They might go away unhappy. They won’t like me. I will feel like a failure. I will have an experience of my limits in being-able-to-cope.

This last statement gives me a wobbly feeling. We’re onto something.

I need to see myself as being able to Cope With Anything, because I don’t trust anyone else to look after themselves or me. If I don’t write it on a list, nobody else will. If I don’t order the doorstops, the whole temple will fall into chaos. The idea that I am actually a fallible human being with limits is deeply terrifying to me, because it means (if taken alongside the ‘I can’t trust anybody’ belief) that I am completely and utterly unsafe. 

Of course, on a rational level, I know that these things aren’t true. I am and will be supported by competent and lovely people. But we’re not talking about the rational part of me – we’re talking about the deep murky parts that have their own ideas about what is terrifying and how to stay safe. They have their reasons – they may be outdated now, but they are still doing their best, and they are desperate to keep me away from the monsters under the bed.

I thank these parts of me for defending me, and gently suggest that they are no longer necessary, that they can let me see a corner of the monster. I feel a little bit of the fear – not too much, just what I can take. I understand why this new project is terrifying for me. There is always more of the monster, but every time a teensy bit comes out from under the bed and into the light, I feel a fizz of relief. There’s nothing there!

You will be terrified of something different. You will use other trivialities to cover it up. Are you ready to see a little corner of the monster? Maybe just his little toe? 



You can sign up to our monthly Amida Mandala newsletter here. We’re planning an event during January to help you take action on a project of your choice, but if you’ve got an appetite for some mindful writing before then check out our self-study e-courses here or our less time-consuming 31 days here.

Mulled wine by rpavich, with thanks.

Everything is changing for us (& how it could change for you too)

Bredon HouseSatya writes: Soon, Kaspa & I are going to move into this beautiful place in the heart of Malvern.

We are going to run it as a Pureland Buddhist temple. There will be a shrine room & four residents & two more floors cut into the hills & a view over the Severn valley that knock your SOCKS off.

In April this year, I had a tentative conversation with Kaspa about not just getting a permanent building for our Buddhist sangha in Malvern to use, but living in this building ourselves. Making it our home – creating a sacred space and welcoming people in.

At the same time the Trustees of our little Buddhist organisation had already started discussing selling the temple we’ve had in London for many years.

We put in a proposal. It was agreed that some money would be made available to us, maybe in a year or two.

A few weeks later, this June, one of our sangha asked us if we were ‘looking at houses yet’ and we said no, it was way too early – she said that was a shame as their friends were selling their 10 bedroom B&B. We looked at the picture and imagined living there and laughed at our audacity. It looked magnificent. We guessed it would be way out of our budget, and anyway it was far too soon to sell in London.

Two weeks later the Trustees walked into the property and fell in love with the view, the elegant staircases, the tiered garden. They decided to buy it.

So what advice do I have for making your own dreams come true?

We’ve had a huge amount of luck. We’ve got plenty spare – contained in this email if you need it.

All the clichés do help. We’ve put in a lot of hard work, building up our sangha in Malvern for three years on a voluntary basis. We listened to our hearts and took what they were saying seriously. We took small actions consistently. I confess to not being very patient, but it does help if you are. We’ve weathered some difficult bits already (there will be more to come!) without giving up.

But here’s what felt most powerful, and surprised me. My dream came true faster when I got out of the way. When I stopped trying to decide exactly what form this project should take, and allowed the Universe to show me the way instead. When I stopped trying to micromanage everything and instead trusted more.

If it was down to me, we’d be in a much smaller centre out in the countryside. We definitely wouldn’t have any residents. The Universe (Buddha, God) often has much bigger plans for us than we have for ourselves. Plans we’re not entirely sure we agree with at first, until we grudgingly admit how much better things are this way.

What would happen to your dreams if you held them more lightly, and let the Universe help you?

We’re not out of the woods yet – everything can and often does go wrong with house purchases. But whether it’ll be this building or another one, the temple already exists. It will be called Amida Mandala – named by our Buddhist teacher Dharmavidya David Brazier, and without whom none of this would be happening. If you would like to be a Friend of Amida Mandala, just email with ‘friend’ as the title and I’ll add you to our monthly newsletter so you can keep up with our news. Maybe one day you’ll come and see us there.

We’d love to be in by the beginning of December, for our annual Bodhi retreat… which is cutting it VERY fine. Maybe you could send us some of your luck!

Go gently. _/\_


If you’re reading to take some action on your dreams, try Kaspa’s self-study e-course, 31 Days of Positive Action. With the 31 daily emails and accompanying material it gently holds you by the hand and helps you move forwards – one step, then another…

How to stay sane

cupcakeSatya writes: something special for curious folk & mindful writers, & how I stay sane…

I just bounded upstairs, scoffing a coconut cupcake. The radio was blaring in my office. I’d spent the morning faffing about on my computer, avoiding writing this newsletter and getting tangled in thoughts about my future.

A word rose in me: enough. I turned the radio off and stood in the middle of my room. As I settled into the silence I became gradually aware of the wood pigeons calling to each other in the garden, and noticed that September’s orange berries are already beginning to form in clusters on the pyracantha.

The tension in my neck rose into my consciousness and ever-so-slightly melted.

I said: Namo Amida Bu.  

These words are my way of remembering the divine, and of connecting with something that is outside of my small mind with its endless chatter and its compulsive preoccupation with ego. 

I wonder if you have a phrase too? Something that connects you with God or, if you’re not spiritual, nature or the best of humanity or the Universe. Pausing to write a small stone, which many of you are doing as a part of Awake August, does exactly the same job.  

This practice allows us to step outside ourselves every so often – to remind us that we’re not the most important object on the planet, and that (for some of us this is hard to believe) we don’t always know best. 

In my experience, connecting with something or someone that is not-me also allows me to loosen the grip of those sticky compulsions which keep seducing me. When I’m less befuzzled by these distractions I usually find more focus, and have more time and compassion for those around me. I also remember that I am loved just as I am, which is at the base of everything good in my life.

It keeps me sane. Or, at the least, moves me along the scale from fractured towards full of faith.

What happens when you do something that shifts your focus outside of your self? Look out of the window for a few minutes and see.

I took a deep breath, and shhhhhussshhhed it out. I sat down at my computer, and started typing.

If you’d like to get some focus on what you need to be doing next, during September Kaspa & I will be running moderated groups for people who want to study one of our mindful writing e-courses together. This is a rare opportunity to work with us and with fellow students, as the courses are usually self-study. We are keeping the fee for essay, weekly exercises, daily emails & group membership at £25/$40 rather than the old price of £50/$80. 

Kaspa will be running Eastern Therapeutic Writing looking at getting things done & resolving difficult questions, and I’ll be exploring praise, clear-seeing, perseverance & faith with Writing & Spiritual Practice. Click on the links to read more & to register and guarantee your place (we want to keep the groups to a manageable size).

Do tell me how you stay sane (your equivalent to Namo Amida Bu or writing small stones) in the comments.  

Namo Amida Bu! Go gently.

E-course adventure with groups during September

wasppansyFancy an adventure during September?

We don’t offer groups with our mindful writing e-courses any more, but in September we will be offering a rare opportunity to study with fellow students in a group moderated by me or Kaspa.

Kaspa will be running Eastern Therapeutic Writing and I will be running Writing and Spiritual Practice, from Monday the 8th of September for four weeks.

Group participation adds a lot to these courses – listening to the experience of others as they work their way through the same exercises and explore the same questions, and giving you somewhere to share your own discoveries, struggles & successes.

The classes will still be at the lower price of £25/£40 – when we ran moderated groups before we charged double that. Read more about what you’ll receive and register now by visiting Eastern Therapeutic Writing or Writing and Spiritual Practice,.

Looking forward to it!

Do you miss the world?

AA Dainty bottom by AussiegalTell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
~ Mary Oliver (this will help!)

Satya writes: I’ve been neglecting the world.

We have a very big and complicated project on at the moment, and lots of things are happening that I’m not in control of. Lots to trust to others. Lots to wait for – sometimes patiently, sometimes not.

It’s not a complete over-exaggeration to say that the next twenty years of my life are riding on it.

As a result, I’m up to my old tricks. I’ve been using the internet compulsively. I’ve been overworking. I’ve been overeating. (Damn you, amazing brownie recipe. Damn you, amazing vegan ice-cream.)

Sorry, world. But I’m coming back to you, I promise.

I’m going to do this by picking up our core mindful writing tool – the one I’ve been neglecting for a year or so. That deceptively simple daily action which has been used successfully and joyfully by thousands of people all over the world.

The humble small stone. Here’s how to do it: open your senses, notice something properly, and write it down. Repeat daily, or as required.

August feels like the ideal time to come back to the world. Everything slows down a little bit. There is a teensy bit more space. There’s reflection about where we’ve travelled so far this year, which helps us decide where we will focus our efforts from September.

It’s important to step back and remember how little we are – how insignificant. However central and deeply-affecting our worries are to us, there is a whole wide world around us – getting on with its own life, unfolding with its own wisdom. In my experience, it often knows better than I do.

Writing small stones helps us tune in to this wisdom, especially if we can step outside ourselves for a moment. I know. I have been hearing snippets of it, all year. I’ve been guided by it, to places I never would have visited if it was just me in charge.

I know there is more for me to hear. If I just slow down, and start listening…..

Do invite your friends to accompany you during August here (it’s more fun to be accompanied) and here’s where to sign up for your daily inspiration and encouragement from me. Put ten minutes aside for yourself every day. This is your wild and precious life.


Thanks to Aussiegal for the lovely photo.

Find joy at the edge…

Under the tree…for more smiles this month, join Joyful July & write something joyful in your notebook every day. Register for the daily emails here. And here’s what we’ve been up to…

Satya writes: As we walked around our house yesterday it was as if we were visitors, seeing it for the first time.

In a way, we were. We were just back from a fortnight’s retreat in France, during which we sat round in circles like this one, walked the meditation path through the woods, spent time practising together, opened our hearts, witnessed each other’s pain & tenderness, and changed into slightly different versions of ourselves.

One of my working edges is in the area of learning to be supported by others, as well as being the one who supports everyone else (or who likes to thinks I am!). I have a strong story that if I don’t pay attention to everything, things won’t get done and situations and people will fall into chaos.

Over the past couple of weeks on retreat I’ve felt the anxiety of this and waited, observing, as other people have supported me and others. I’m beginning to know in my heart (and not just intellectually) that I am safer than I always thought I was, and that other people will be there for me.

Allowing this kind of change to flow through us is hard work. Me & Kaspa could both do with a holiday, now that we’re back! It also brings us into closer relationship with others and the world, and so everything seems brighter and sharper than it did before – our blooming garden looks even more beautiful, and our cat’s happiness in seeing us is giving us even more joy.

Where is your learning edge? What do you need to let flow through you, in order to come into closer relationship with the world? If you pay attention, you’ll be shown the way.

Happily, as you unfurl and stretch out those kinks and suffer the growing pains, your learning edge will also bring you much joy.

“The present moment is filled with joy and happiness. If you are attentive, you will see it.” ~ Thích Nhất Hạnh