Sacred Elements
Awareness is a mirror reflecting the four elements.
— Thich Nhat Hanh
The Dharma Centre of Canada is a 400-acre treasure of natural beauty dotted with authentic Buddhist monuments, cabins and sleeping quarters, a main house, and a light-filled temple. Beside the temple stands an homage to the Five Elements and to the DCC’s founding teacher, Namgyal Rinpoche. This white dome and spire is called a dagoba; it is a structure dating back to ancient times. Stone paths radiate from it in the cardinal directions and each path meets a pair of granite benches engraved with either the Pali or English word for Earth, Air, Fire, or Water. The dome itself represents a fifth element of space. The spire atop the dome echoes the elements in a sequence of shapes reaching up to the sky. The whole dome and paths is surrounded by a square stone path and each quadrant within has a bed of pebbles.
One early morning I was doing walking meditation on the circular inner path around the dome — placing my feet mindfully and each step in time with the breath. I was looking ahead and noticed the sun shining dimly through a layer of clouds. Tall skinny pine tree-tops stood in silhouette against the illuminated thin clouds — like minute hands pointing to noon on a clock. I was moving slowly. So slowly that each time I rounded the dagoba, the sun was in a new position relative to the tree tops. Which really meant that the earth was rotating relative to the sun and it felt oddly linked to my walking. Both grand and minuscule motions were rotating in harmony as I walked and each time I came around to find the earth had moved a little further. I felt light and grounded and part of the whole clockwork of the universe.
Echoes of Raven, collage, 8x10”
One step follows the next. We breathe in. We breathe out. What if this breath is not different from the whole earth breathing in and breathing out? And not different from all of life on earth, in its way, breathing in and breathing out. The oceans swell and recede. Is this entirely different from the pulse of blood in our veins? The warmth in our bodies is the warmth of the sun. The sun is in all living things. And the earth. The earth herself is beneath our feet, beneath our seat, in our bones, and in the food we eat.
How could I bring this home with me? One teacher recommended touching the sacred elements on waking in the morning, when meditating, and when breaking fast. Feel the solidity of earth, the flow of water, the warmth of fire, the breath of air. Touch them throughout the day. Then touch them again at the end of the day. One's life is softer and more vital in acknowledging that the whole of life shares these sacred elements. All of life depends on earth, water, fire, and air. Knowing that common ground makes us kinder, more grateful, and care-full.
It seems to me there is no need to fill a clay bowl with water. There is no need to light a candle to float in that water. There is no need to witness the movement of air that causes the flame to flicker. The body is our vessel and our ceremony. But that to go ahead and prepare a ritual offering anyway holds up a mirror to the sacred elements within and without. To our common ancestors, the stars, from whence these elements come.
Peace in all elements of earth and air and fire and water — fulfilled in space. Peace.
— from a Zen Metta Sutta
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I’m reminded of a favourite poem of mine: Morning in March. And also how I once wrote, “who knows, maybe it’s all just the echoes of a raven.” Because their call is sometimes that resonant.
Here is something exquisite to listen to: an On Being interview with Dacher Keltner and Krista Tippet on wonder and awe. It is warm and surprising. And yet not surprising at all.
