Contents Acknowledgements Preface Introduction A Monk at My Door Week 1 Mindfulness: The First Step to Peace Week 2 Suffering? It Happens to Us All Week 3 What Causes Suffering? Week 4 Finding Freedom Week 5 The Road to Happiness Week 6 Living Mindfully Week 7 Inner Peace, Outer Peace Week 8 Metta – Loving Kindness Epilogue What Happened Next Acknowledgements This book is the culmination of many influences, experiences and people in my life, and I would like to acknowledge and thank them all. First and foremost I thank Gautama Buddha for his teaching, to which this book owes its existence, and all those who have practised Buddhism during the last 2,500 years and passed it on to us today. I’m very grateful to the late Ajahn Chah, who brought Theravada Buddhism to the UK, and whose influence lives on in the monasteries he founded and the teaching given by the monks he trained; and to Ajahn Sumedho, whose books The Four Noble Truths, and Don’t Take Your Life Personally became my close companions, and changed my life. I’d also like to extend my thanks to all the monks at the Chithurst Monastery, especially Ajahn Succito and Ajahn Karuniko. And a special thank you goes to Ajahn Subhaddo for the particular inspiration he brought me and for his patient answering of my questions as I worked on this book. I am indebted to my grandmother, Grace Cooke, for her vision and courage, and (together with my grandfather, Ivan Cooke) for creating the spiritual environment into which I was born and grew up; my parents, Joan and John Hodgson, for their wisdom, and the very loving upbringing they gave me; also my aunt, Ylana Hayward, who played an important part in my early life; and to my sister, Jenny Dent, my closest companion in my early years along with my cousins, Colum and Jeremy Hayward, who were more like brothers than cousins and also grew up with us at the retreat centre. I thank and send much metta to my very dear close family, in particular to my three daughters, Kate Ellis, Meg Ashton-Key and Claire Carr, for their incredible, unwavering love and support – and I thank Claire especially for reading the manuscript of this book and giving me the benefit of her perceptive and incisive editorial skills when she was nearing the time to give birth; and to my beloved husband, Robert, my constant companion, who shared so much, and who instigated the days of Buddhist teaching in our home. My thanks, too, go to all the people who joined us for the teaching and made it so special. In life there are always lows as well as highs when we can learn and grow as we pass through them, and I’d like to express my gratitude to those people who ‘saved my life’ during some dark and difficult times I experienced in the past, which led me to where I am today: the late Ian Gordon-Brown and Barbara which led me to where I am today: the late Ian Gordon-Brown and Barbara Somers, for their Transpersonal Psychology courses; Beata Bishop for her wisdom and guidance; the late Graham Browne and Babette Hayes for their Self- transformation courses; and the writers Louise Hay, Doreen Virtue and – especially – Wayne Dyer. I’d like to thank my friends: Elinor Dettiger; Suna Jones, Mary Kennard, Lynda Lawrence, Liz Newnham and especially, Chryssa Porter, who have believed in this book, read the early drafts, commented helpfully and encouraged me all the way. I’m also very grateful for the wonderful, professional team I have been blessed to work with: my agent, Barbara Levy, for her absolute belief in this book from the moment I told her my idea, and for her support at every stage; Jo Lal, who likewise ‘got it’ immediately and guided me in the right direction to make it a reality; the art and design team for the cover, which conveys the spirit of the book so perfectly; my editor, Ingrid Court-Jones for her meticulous work and inspired suggestions; and Deborah Hercun, who managed the project, and all the production team who have contributed to the final result. Preface I was just a hardworking cookery writer, creating, testing and writing recipes for my books and articles, getting on with my life with all its usual stresses and strains and ups and downs – and then I met a monk. He came to my home, gave teaching to a group of people – and changed my life. I gained so much from the experience that I wanted to recreate and share it, and that is how this book came about. It’s my hope that as you read this book you, too, may feel you are taking part, and that it may be as life-changing for you as it was for me. You could read the book straight through or, to make the most of it, you could treat it as a course, reading a chapter each week or at a pace to suit you, following the practice suggestions given just as the participants do in the book. My wish for you is hidden in the title of this book – hidden like a crossword clue. It made me smile and by the time you’ve read the book, you’ll understand. I hope it will make you smile, too. So, come on in, and welcome … Rose Elliot 2015 It is early afternoon on a beautiful Sunday in June and a Buddhist monk is standing at my door. He is of medium height, muscular, swathed in golden- brown. He has fabric wound around him over his shoulders and around his waist to form a robe that reaches halfway down his shins. His head is shaved and shiny, and he is wearing leather sandals. Slung over his shoulder like a satchel is a big metal bowl. I know it is his only possession, used for his two meals of the day: breakfast and an early lunch that has to be eaten before noon. I hesitate, resisting the natural urge to shake his hand because I know that as an ordained monk he is not allowed physical contact, especially with a woman. So I smile and in a moment of inspiration put my hands together, prayer-style, and say ‘Welcome’. It is not every day I receive such a visit. The monk has come to teach a group of people ‘mindfulness, meditation and how to find happiness, freedom and peace’. Well, that’s what it says on the flyer. It was my husband Robert’s idea. Some time ago, when he was finding life challenging, he began visiting a Buddhist monastery a few miles from where we live and learned to meditate. He found it really helpful; in fact, it changed his life: everyone noticed how much more relaxed and happy he had become. So Robert had the idea of asking one of the senior monks if he would give a course of teaching to a group of people in our home. Robert contacted local Buddhist groups and friends of friends – anyone interested in learning more about mindfulness and meditation. The word went round and Robert sent out the flyer to anyone he thought might be interested. I did not previously know most of the people about to arrive. So here we all are. It seems that everyone wants to learn mindfulness meditation. If anyone knows how to do it, surely it’s a Buddhist monk – after all, they spend hours meditating every day. As it worked so well for Robert, we are hoping it will help other people, too. I am certainly interested to find out more about it, so I’m open to the idea, although I’m also slightly wary. Wary? Yes, I have to admit I am. I have a bit of a history where groups are concerned. You see I was brought up in a religious retreat run by my grandmother and my parents, and I also worked there myself for some years before I left. In fact, I wrote my first two major cookery books as a result of the recipes I developed when I was working in the kitchen there. In the end, for many reasons, I moved away – away from the retreat centre, away from anything remotely ‘religious’ in nature and I became very cautious about being part of any remotely ‘religious’ in nature and I became very cautious about being part of any group. So why am I here today? Why am I helping to host this meditation group? What am I doing with a monk in my home? You might well ask! I am doing it for love of Robert really, because I know it means a great deal to him. And because I am spiritually inclined, even though I am not ‘religious’ as such. I also believe that meditation can be helpful both physically and mentally, so I’m willing to give it a try. And that is why at this moment I am standing a few feet from a Buddhist monk, wondering what to say to him, how to behave in his presence, what to do. Robert, who feels more confident around monks, takes the initiative. As the sun is shining, and there is a little time before the rest of the group is due to arrive, he asks the monk if he would like to take a stroll in the garden before we begin. We cross the hall and walk out into the warm air. I must admit the monk’s simplicity, openness and above all, his ordinariness, touch me. Here is a man who is freely giving up his time to come to our home to teach an unknown group of people, and I am grateful to him. As we walk in the garden, the monk becomes more animated and looks around him with obvious interest. He chats easily and naturally and I begin to feel more comfortable in his presence. ‘Ah yes, armandii’ he says, noting the vigorous green clematis climbing up the side of the house. ‘That needs a lot of cutting back, doesn’t it?’ He explains that he was a gardener for many years before becoming a monk, that he has a ninety-year-old father living some distance from the monastery and that he regularly travels to visit him, using his bus pass. I did not realize that Buddhist monks were so down-to-earth and practical. I look at his bright eyes and tanned face and think he barely looks old enough to have a bus pass. There’s a lot to be said for a shaved head. Or maybe it’s the monastic way of life that does it. We go back into the house, through the entrance hall and into the sitting room. ‘Oh, what a beautiful room!’ the monk exclaims as he enters. I’m glad he likes it. We spent last evening turning the room into a meditation space, or ‘shrine room’, as the monk calls it. We moved out some of the heavy furniture and brought in flowers, candles and an incense stick. We put some dining room chairs in an oval shape around the outside of the room leaving plenty of space for those people who prefer to sit on the floor to place their zafus – firm, round meditation cushions like small pouffes that are placed on top of padded squares or mats. You sit on the zafu and your legs rest