By David Viafora in October 2020

I survived my first full New England winter at MorningSun Community in New Hampshire, the traditional land of the Abenaki known as “People of the Dawn Land.” I live alone in a twelve-foot-by-twelve, two-story, handcrafted timber frame cabin, with single-pane windows and no electricity or plumbing. I carry in five-gallon jugs of water and chop beech and maplewood daily for fires every morning and evening. 

During the past year, my partner—and closest friend for several years—and I parted ways. While I enjoyed the snowy stillness and crystallized beauty of the leafless forests at MorningSun, I felt more alone and socially anxious than I had in years, and it felt difficult to be around people. The last few months of winter felt especially heavy, as my Southern California roots felt starved of warmth from both people and sunshine. Just as spring was offering glimpses of relief, the pandemic hit, and people retreated inside with their families once again. I struggled with living alone, yet determined to find ways to befriend the depths of anxiety and isolation I was facing internally. 

I hiked to our Lily Pond a few days each week, sitting on a sloping granite slab next to a giant pine at the edge of the frozen lake. A hot water thermos, down jacket, thick scarf, and blankets kept me comfortable enough to sit and walk for a few hours next to the thick icy pond, my steadfast companion. If I couldn’t be near people due to my anxiety or the pandemic, at least the lake was always there for me—as were the granite rock, the sturdy pine, the sunset, and my breath. When humans are less available, animals and plants take on new dimensions of siblinghood, and the wounded spaces of my heart found a peaceful refuge and everlasting companionship. No matter how cold my heart felt, it was no colder than the frozen lake and pine. We were all thawing out slowly together, reflecting each other’s true nature.

I had steadfast human friends whenever I needed them at MorningSun and a few soul companions abroad, whose presence I relished and took refuge in via Skype. Once a month, Fern—Dharma teacher and co-founder of MorningSun Community—and I meditated and drank tea next to my wood-fire stove or went for walks outside as the streams re-awoke to spring and the snowstorms still played hide-and-seek. Fern encouraged me to lean into loving kindness meditations every day so the true brilliance of people’s kindness, laughter, and tenderness could illuminate and soften my heart.

Last fall, our Sangha decided to build a farm. We broke ground in March, just as the pandemic was beginning. Sinking our hands and hearts into the earth brought peace and hope during the social chaos that kept unfolding. The garden has become the main social hangout spot at MorningSun: people wear masks, maintain healthy distance, and converse freely while weeding, planting, watering, or laying straw. The plants and the earth are our most steadfast companions on the path. “Even if our world is falling apart, as long as people are gardening together, things will be okay,” we say and smile to each other.

Since the pandemic started, our retreats and Days of Mindfulness shifted from public-facing events to facing each other. We spend more time as a small Sangha family, listening, sharing, and watering each other’s flowers during our Sunday practice. Each week, we gather outside on the wild scented grass of our circle garden, surrounded by corn and squash, kale and pink cosmos. On hot days, we take refuge in the shaded shelter of pine and alder trees, sitting on the soft beds of broken pine needles overlooking Blueberry Pond. 

Since many of our residents no longer go to work or school outside, more of us are free to practice meditation, chanting, and reading sutras in the morning and evenings. We have started new practices such as a second-body system, a weekly white awareness group, monthly Beginning Anew, biography sharings from each of our residents, and reflective listening circles. We offer one public online Day of Mindfulness each month to expand our Sangha refuge with others. But in general, we have more time for each other as neighbors and spiritual family than ever before. Our Sangha life is flourishing in new ways; it is a great blessing to be living in community at this time. I felt inspired to write about our practice of Sangha building and spiritual friendship at MorningSun, so I adapted the traditional sutra, Discourse on Happiness, to express how loneliness and friendship inter-are.

Discourse on the Better Way to Live Without Loneliness

I heard these words of the Buddha one time when the Awakened One was staying at MorningSun Community in the Maple Grove near Lily Pond. Just around sunset, a deva appeared, whose light and beauty made the whole pond and all the star lilies shine radiantly. After paying respects to the Buddha, the deva asked him a question in the form of a verse:
“Many women, gender queer, and men, Those of African, Native American, Indigenous, Asian, Pacific Islander, Latinx, Middle Eastern, European, and mixed descent are all eager to know, What are the ways to end loneliness, fear, and isolation during a global pandemic in order to bring about good friendships for a peaceful and happy life? 
Please, Awakened One, will you teach us?”

This is the Buddha’s answer:

Not to be associated with foolish websites,
To be online in the company of wise people,
Zooming those who are worth Zooming,
This brings the greatest friendship.

To walk often in good environments,
To have planted good seeds in your garden or flower pots,
And to realize that you have many kind plant friends on your path,
This brings the greatest friendship.

To have a chance to learn and grow in more online
Dharma classes than ever before,
To be skillful in calling and listening deeply to friends in need,
Practicing kind speech, love letters, written cards, and sincere apologies often,
This brings the greatest friendship.

To be able to serve and support your parents and grandparents by not visiting or touching them,
To cherish your time online with your family,
And to have walking companions who bring you joy,
This brings the greatest friendship.

To sit alone intimately with a lake, tree, rock, cloud, sunset, or your breath,
Knowing that they too are your true relatives and spiritual companions,
Living a life rich with appreciations and wondrous gratitudes,
This brings the greatest friendship.

To be honest about your daily screen time, and generous in time with others,
To offer your support to many human, animal, and plant friends,
Living a life of blameless sanitation,
This brings the greatest friendship.

To be humble, polite, and mute yourself on Zoom,
To be grateful and content with a simple haircut,
Not missing the occasion to watch the most recent YouTube Dharma talk,
This brings the greatest friendship.

To avoid unwholesome news and crowded places,
Not caught by Facebook, Amazon, and other addictions,
And to be diligent in wearing your mask,
This bring the greatest friendship.

To live openly and honestly about one’s privileges and power,
To be grateful and content with sharing resources and reparations,
Not missing the occasion to learn to become a better ally,
This brings the greatest friendship. 

To persevere with six feet apart and be open to air high-fives,
To have regular contact with soil, compost, worms, flowers, and vegetables,
And to fully participate in Sanghas on multiple continents,
This brings the greatest friendship.

To walk outside diligently, skipping often and joyfully,
To perceive that others need your kindness and joy right now too,
And to realize that you are not at all alone in this,
This brings the greatest friendship.

To live in the world of illness, dying, and physical isolation,
With your heart broken open by the world and  ceaselessly healing,
With all hurts slowly forgiven, dwelling in gentle compassion for yourself and all beings,
This brings the greatest friendship.

For she, he, or they who accomplish this,
Tenderly embracing loneliness and isolation within themselves,
Always they feel safe, included, and empathically connected;
Friendship lives within oneself.”

Author

David Viafora

David Viafora (he/him), Chân Thiện Son/True Zen Mountain, has spent the last five years sauntering the forests and playing in... Read more at parallax.org