Barmoor Sangha Retreats
News and images of our twice-yearly sangha weekends at Barmoor on the edge of the North Yorkshire Moors
Twenty-two of us from York and Scarborough spent the weekend here with good food and warm fires. We heard about the mythic bodhisattva called Kshitigarbha and explored how he could help us to escape from our own dark places and experiences when we needed to.
Susan and Tasha organised the weekend. Cooking was shared. Shakyapada and Mahasraddha led the retreat with much-appreciated assistance


from Druvasimha and Upayadevi.
It was a wild and stormy weekend outside as storm Amy closed in, but we were snug in the lovely old house. By Sunday the sun had come out and the sky was blue.
Sadhu! to all who came and took part.
Jay, John, Graham and Flo are missing from the photo as they needed to leave for various reasons before it was taken.
Our two poets, Paul and Liz created some beautiful poems relating to the weekend and these can be found below. Sadhu
Paul wrote two poems
The Storm
At the window
I watch
the storm come in…
the wild-reaching trees
throw off their fruit
and discard dead limbs
water-droplet forms
float
wraith-like
over the ferny hill across the fields
the sheep
heavy-laden, impassive
and patient
stand still in the open
The storm blows in
but I am calmer now…
I stand at the window and watch
I stand at the window and listen
**********************
Building
In this house
there are many doors
and passages
unfolding
as the lotus unfolds
and we navigate
each according
to our own preferred path
but, together,
we reach
the same room
- where a fire glows,
incense burns
and colour, sound and light
fill the air -
and, together,
we know
that we are home.
*************
This Poem is from Liz
Kshitigarbha - Yah Come!
Yah Come!
Our worldly cry crept in
Like the howl between the window pane
And the Barmoor window frame.
Yah Come!
Our worldly cry rolled in
Where Amy’s storm clouds
Grazed the moor’s horizon
And sheep stood still in the face of it all.
Yah Come!
A Bodhisattva vow and voice
Rises through the maelstrom
Catching the fall, catching us all
Between the mythic and the mundane.
And, where our hearts long for freedom
You appear -Kshitigarbha.
Your vow holds that which is unholdable
Your arms are an ocean of compassion
In the sea-bed of hell.
On the Barmoor shrine
The white chrysanthemums
Meet your pure white moon mat.
My reach to you touches
One petal of your unfolding golden lotus.
Ya Come!
Seeds of hope in the hell realm.
Ya Come!
Seeds of hope in Sunday sunshine.
Ya Come!
Welcome home with me.
****************
Sangha Retreat 29th November to 1st December 2024
The Taste of Freedom

Sixteen of us spent the weekend in this beautiful place with log fires, cosy rooms, good food and friendship. We explored Sangharakshita's teaching on the Taste of Freedom and talked about how to break the first three fetters of Habit, Vagueness and Superficiality.
Jo and Susan organised the weekend, Rob cooked and Shakyapada led.
Paul was moved to compose this poem at the beginning:
Alone
I have borne witness
to the setting of the sun
over northern moorland

and the slow dawning
of the bountiful night
from this pale November air
And in a landscape shaped
by human and divine hand
I trace a tracery…
of bare twisting branches
already holding
the budding promise of Spring
of dry stone walls
and weathered trees
of fields and pheasant feathers
and all the scurrying animal cries

of fulsome Life
that darts, quicker than the eye,
across the field of vision
And as the sun fires up the sky
in one glorious burst
as the stars emerge shyly
from the dying light
as the world resolves
and realigns in the here and now
we can go forward
and once more go home
to a refuge of the heart

I have borne witness to the setting of the sun
Sadhu, Sadhu, Sadhu
And Liz was moved to compose this at the end:
This First of December Day (2024)
In the quiet of Barmoor,
Nestled in the arms of deep wintering,
Grounded in ancient hillscapes,
Warmed by the crackle of hearth-felt love

there is deepening quietude.
And what might each heart call for here
in our arriving and our leaving of this time?
Each to our unique raindrop,
-taking both the fullness,
and the emptiness
in it’s splash
…….
leaving a trace of our courageous hearts,
longing for freedom
and passing the light on our way
this first of December Day.
