Always Hug the Dharma!

Sangha Building and Growing Pains

By Katie Hammond Holtz

It is natural that we will experience growing pains as we go through the stages of life — and the same is true for Sanghas. If we expect our Sangha to fit our ego-definition of “perfect” all the time, we will be disappointed, unhappy, blame others, or feel there is something wrong with us. However, if we are honest with ourselves and others,

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Sangha Building and Growing Pains

By Katie Hammond Holtz

It is natural that we will experience growing pains as we go through the stages of life — and the same is true for Sanghas. If we expect our Sangha to fit our ego-definition of “perfect” all the time, we will be disappointed, unhappy, blame others, or feel there is something wrong with us. However, if we are honest with ourselves and others, and steadfast in our practice and in “hugging” the Dharma, we can get through the growing pains and find new joys in each stage of development.

In fact, as Thay teaches, difficulty is a great gift. This has been the case for Laughing Rivers Sangha, which I founded after a retreat with Thay eighteen years ago.

I will highlight just a few ways I, and others, have embraced the Dharma while building the Sangha—overcoming more than a few growing pains along the way. The growth of a Sangha is like the continuation of a child, from birth to adulthood.

Our Sangha’s Early Childhood

As a new Sangha, we were happy to just sit, sharing our simple practice, supporting one another, and laughing often — a group of deep friends that eventually grew to ten core members, with about twenty-five people on our mailing list. There was nothing to be in conflict about; it was light and easy. There were few decisions to make beyond figuring out whose house we would meet at and what to bring to the potluck meals we shared.

The first real organizational decision involved our name—and that took about ten minutes. After our sitting one evening, Jim began tossing out funny Sangha names that had us all laughing—and soon we all agreed that “laughing” should be part of our name. Then Kerry said, “I’ll close my eyes, open to a page in this book, and wherever my finger lands that will be the other word in our name.” We cheered this idea — and his finger landed on the word “river.” Since we live in Pittsburgh, a city defined by the joining of three rivers, we knew we had a winner.

Decision-making got a little more complicated as we grew to our present size of well over fifty core members.

Early School Years: Our Sangha’s First Conflicts

If a child has a harmonious childhood, free of responsibilities and expectations, the first year of school can be rough — suddenly there are pressures, big changes, conflicts with others, and potentially traumatic experiences. Interestingly, it was around age five or six that our Sangha experienced its own fundamental change, followed by a difficult conflict. First, three core members departed from the regular Tuesday evening practice — one becoming ill, one moving to Georgia, and one deciding to focus on individual practice. Each is still in my personal Sangha and we remain deep friends, but their departures left me alone to deal with the Sangha’s growing pains. I wasn’t aware until later how much of a heartache this was.

Then a Sangha member who had been practicing with us attended her first retreat with Thay. She came back inspired, eager to put the teachings into practice. I was so happy for her and I invited her to become more involved in Sangha building. Sadly, a conflict soon arose between us when I invited her to work with me on the Sangha newsletter, and though we talked on numerous
occasions, the conflict persisted. I asked a long-standing Sangha member to support me during this time, but they withdrew from the conflict. Next I consulted with Dai-En Bennage, a Dharma teacher in our tradition, who advised me to write a “love letter” to my Sangha sister; but she and I eventually decided to do a direct “flower watering” exchange and a Peace Treaty. I thought the
meeting went well, but at the end she became angry with me, and despite continued effort, we could not resolve our conflict. She and another member left our Sangha to start another meditation group. I was heartbroken. I felt like I failed in my practice. I also felt abandoned, which touched a very deep seed in me from my childhood — exacerbated by the recent suicide of my younger
brother.

Clearly our group had developed a more formal identity at this point and unlike the early days, there was now something to change and criticize and defend. For the first time I was perceived as an authority figure to react against. Although my Sangha sister and I were both rooted in Thay’s practice, she wanted a different type of group, and I believe she saw me as an obstacle.

Although our group came together again after she left, this was a very difficult period for me. Apparently I was not skilled enough to accommodate to the rapid changes that the Sister sought, nor skilled enough to understand the true nature of what she needed.

As painful as this conflict was, it pushed me to deepen my practice to support the foundation of the Sangha. In particular, I aspired to the Fourteen Mindfulness Trainings and wanted to be in regular contact with others building Sanghas. I reached out to an OI member in Washington, D.C., who listened deeply, pointed out that I needed support in this situation, and made himself available. I attended a retreat with Thay and learned the “love letter” practice in depth, which I still use regularly.

Friends Forever: Our Sangha Grows Together

In the years that followed, our Sangha picked up new friends who are core members to this day, and we began to experience the joy of shared Sangha building. The Sangha began to solidify because of the direct connection each of us had with Thay’s teachings, and our shared commitment to mindfulness and the Dharma.

A shared leadership evolved naturally, allowing us to successfully develop our group practice and give it more structure. For example, we began reciting the Mindfulness Trainings the first Tuesday of the month, and doing special practices like Deep Relaxation and Touching of the Earth on the third Tuesday. A shared leadership model can clearly be a great advantage in Sangha
building. It is a concrete practice of interbeing.

Our Sangha Finds Our Dharma Teacher

A Sangha, like a child, can only get so far on its own. In 1999, I asked Dharma Teacher Chan Huy, True Radiance, to come to Pittsburgh and lead a retreat for our Sangha. Since then he has led multi-day retreats twice a year with the Laughing Rivers Sangha. Chan Huy embodies the Dharma, strongly supports everyone to receive the Mindfulness Trainings, offers consultations, and mentors all aspirants and OI members in our Sangha. Right from those first retreats, I noticed that all of us felt stronger, more skilled and solid in our practice. We’d found our teacher.

With Chan Huy’s support and guidance, I was finally able to aspire for the Fourteen Mindfulness Trainings. I had wanted to do this for several years but I had been unsuccessful in finding a committed mentor, and it wasn’t clear in those days how to go about it when one was geographically isolated. In 2002, three of us in the Sangha received ordination. This deep transmission, combined with my earlier frustrations, inspired the three of us to be very dedicated to mentoring other aspirants in our Sangha. We now have two OI coordinators who focus on this valuable work, including one of the aspirants I mentored. How beautiful it is to see our continuation! But continuation is reciprocal—I learn a lot from her open-heart practice too. And that is the way of building
a Sangha.

More Complex Decision Making: Our Sangha as an Adolescent

As our Sangha grew and activities and decisions became more complex, shared leadership evolved into a consensus model. For example, when we began looking for a separate meeting place, our leadership did an extensive search, shared the information with the Sangha, and then every person had a vote. Most people enjoyed this model because it allowed everyone to express their viewpoint,
respond, and experience the process of finding consensus. But eventually frustrations began to arise; some people felt the process was too inefficient for a Sangha of our size.

We consulted with several Dharma teachers regarding ways of supporting our growth, and shared these ideas with Sangha members. We all read Joyfully Together by Thay. By 2006, we had replaced consensus with a formal annual meeting and a Continuing Care Committee.

I must admit I was one of several who resisted this change. I was concerned that our Sangha would lose its “home-spun” nature and free spirit. But today I understand that this is what was best to get the Sangha through its current growth stage. And I also try to remember the Mindful Meeting Guidelines, which are read at the beginning of each meeting. The core principles come from Thay’s writings, including the Fourth of the Five Mindfulness Trainings on deep listening and loving speech, and the Second of the Fourteen Mindfulness Trainings on being open to others’ viewpoints.

Our Sangha Looks Forward into Adulthood

Despite all these changes, Laughing Rivers Sangha’s fundamental Tuesday format has remained the same for eighteen years: sitting, walking, and Dharma sharing. After two of us had the good fortune of being in Plum Village in 2000 for the summer retreat, we added the new chanting we’d learned. Several years ago Thay asked us to start reciting the Trainings twice a month, and
we now use the entire recitation ceremony from the Plum Village
Chanting Book.

We have a beautiful Sangha, and we continue to grow. I wish I could say that these difficulties were the only ones we had to contend with, and that all of them were handled skillfully. But that is not true and there is still suffering for me that I need to transform; I am slowly unwrapping the gifts contained there. But our individual and collective practice has deepened, and we are each more skillful, happier, and more able to let go of our own views and truly love one another through it all. And yes, laughter is still a part of Laughing Rivers Sangha!

Suffering is a necessary growth process when building a Sangha. As Thay and Chan Huy have taught us, you cannot have a joyful Sangha without it.

Katie Hammond Holtz, True Sky of Peace, founded Laughing Rivers Sangha in
Pittsburgh, PA in 1991 and she is a clinical psychologist in private practice. Thanks
go to Don Bertschmann, our very first Sangha member, for offering his insights and
editing this article.

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What is Mindfulness

Thich Nhat Hanh January 15, 2020

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