Akashavana

This month marks a big change as Vajradevi comes to the end of her work for Akashavana, now that the building project is on the edge of completion. I want to celebrate her and all that she has achieved. I have worked closely with Vajradevi for more than two years, she has become a dear friend as well as an inspiration to me, an example of what can be achieved through vision, boldness and determination.

Vajradevi first caught the enthusiasm for this project from her preceptor Sanghadevi on her post ordination retreat. Sanghadevi spoke about a women’s retreat centre especially dedicated to ordination, somewhere that women can go to experience a real sense of Going Forth. Vajradevi had an immediate response - ‘I want to do that’, which came with a mental picture of herself driving a jeep up a rocky track. To her surprise, no-one else was queueing up to volunteer - she thought there would be other offers. She was very happy to be trusted with the freedom to go ahead with the project.

For the first two years after her ordination Vajradevi worked as secretary to Srimala and Sanghadevi, and prepared for the beginning of the first stage, fundraising. The fundraising campaign was launched in 2000 with its defining image of a forested island, seemingly floating in space. Vajradevi took advise from a skilled fundraiser, Samayasri, and their bold and creative approach proved highly successful, raising their target of around £600,000 in two years. She told me that when she approached one senior order member she asked for feedback about her fundraising style, he told her she needed to be ‘more cheeky’, advice which she definitely took on board.

So having banked a large sum of money, the next stage began with the property search. At this point Moksanandi became involved and she and Vajradevi would tour Spain, driving from estate agent to estate agent in hire cars, following up possible leads. Sometimes Vajradevi would go on property searches on her own, a daunting task. She described how often at the beginning of these trips she would feel intense fear as she got on the plane to go out. And during this time there were several occasions when hopes would be raised and dashed. I joined the property search towards the end and I can testify how very hard it is to keep an even mind in the midst of so many raised and lowered hopes.

What I especially admire in Vajradevi during this time is the degree to which she would not compromise the original vision. There were many properties that might have ‘done’, maybe not exactly what we wanted, perhaps a bit too close to a road, or not quite as much land as we would have liked, but Vajradevi decided against property after property, because it wasn’t quite good enough. After two years of this it was possible to wonder whether the right place would ever come along, but it did.

And so began the third stage, the building project, when Vajradevi and I worked closely together. She has tremendous energy and courage, always taking the next step forwards and never prevaricating, this is part of the reason that the project has kept moving forwards so quickly. Two things that I have especially appreciated about working with her - firstly that she knows how to balance hard work with a lot of fun, secondly that her commitment to her meditation practice is strong and unwavering. I think that both these qualities mean that she can bear responsibility lightly and not allow herself to be overwhelmed when things get difficult.

So, I will miss her on the project, it’s been fantastic to spend this time with her. She has given a tremendous gift to the order, and I want to say thank you, Vajradevi for this, for all the fun and friendship, and wish you well in all your next steps. I know that many others will say the same.

Vijayasri

We silently walked along the path from the retreat centre house to the future shrine room. The path skirts the hillside, through carrasco bushes and pine trees. On our right was a drop down into the green valley fed by the spring, on our left a rocky rise to the high cliffs where the vultures nest. As we walked we brushed against thyme and rosemary, releasing their scent into the warm evening air. The only sound was the cicadas’ rhythmic chirruping.On two evenings recently Bianca, Vajradevi and I have walked this path to the lush green terrace where the cherry tree grows. Seven days ago we meditated around the place where the future shrine will be and performed the dedication ceremony, and last night we returned to perform a ritual ‘stabilising the ground’. The central symbol of the ritual is a vajra – or ‘diamond thunderbolt’. The vajra we used is a twin to the one planted in the ground under the stupa at Tiratanaloka, the UK retreat centre where women go as part of training for ordination. It was given into our care by Maitreyi who lives at Tiratanaloka and who is the overall kalyana mitra (spiritual friend) of the Akashavana project.Each of us in turn grasped the vajra, and struck the earth, then made the earth touching gesture, as the Buddha had done calling the earth to witness his spiritual efforts. We invoked the earth goddess to witness the many meritorious actions of ourselves and of others that have led to this opportune moment. We reflected on gratitude to our teachers, Sangharakshita, Dhardo Rimpoche and others. Then we planted the vajra firmly in the ground, symbolic of the Vajrasana, the place where the Buddha sat to gain Enlightenment.Sitting surrounded by the hills it was as if I heard a sort of echo - an echo from the future. In not such a very long time the hills will not be so empty of human beings, women will be here, meditating, chanting, practising the Dharma in this very place. It can seem almost miraculous, yet it has been the result of patient steady effort, of ourselves and everyone who has given in any way. I felt a great sense of gratitude.As we three walked back home down the dusty track a wild goat, startled, leapt up the rocky hillside and stood looking down at us, making its strange birdlike alarm call. Unusually it did not run away but remained there for a while silhouetted against the sky, goat looking at humans looking at goat.As night fell dark clouds were gathering in the west and thunder was growling. Suddenly a ray of lightning pierced the sky, illuminating the landscape for a flash, as if nature was demonstrating the power of the vajra, the thunderbolt that destroys darkness.

So now the three of us, Vajradevi, Bianca and I are living here in Mas de Lluc, the community house. We arrived here the on same day and were plunged straight into the usual catalogue of complications. El Gordo, our second 4×4 chose that time to have an intermittent electrical fault and completely died on us two days running when we were just about to set off up the long rough track to the house. Two days running we had to unload all our luggage and a vast amount of food shopping into Dapple (our little white van)and phone the Grua (breakdown lorry). We’re making friends with the man who drives it, he thinks it’s very diverting and always chivalrously offers me his shoulder to lean on when I climb up onto the side of the lorry to drive the car off. ‘Guapas y fuertes’ he described us - ‘beautiful and strong’. Quite.

The first breakdown we stayed the night in a Hostal in Valderrobres, but the second time I decided to walk the 7km up to the house to pick up our other 4×4, Rozinante. I was keen to see if any mishaps had happened in my absence, since the house had been standing empty for a month. As I walked up the stony track I counted all the things that could have gone wrong. Firstly would the river on the way be too deep to cross? (it had been raining heavily) Would the big bank of solar panels be a) stolen b) damaged by a hailstorm c) blown away? Had the house been broken into? Would Rozinante start? Would the well be flooded? I was less worried about things being robbed, as I have a lot of trust in people in the nearby village. The same cannot be said about the weather!

The river was OK, I could wade across. And when I turned the corner near the house the first thing I saw was our solar panels undamaged. The house was fine - no break in. I got into Rozinante and she started first time. It was all going to be alright… Then I walked down to the well, newly excavated just before I left the previous month. I lifted the heavy manhole cover - and gasped. There was certainly plenty of water - the level was way up above the electric pump. Ah well, 6 out of 7 mishaps avoided not bad.

I phoned Gerardo, our plumber/electrician. ‘The water in the well’s very high’ I said. ‘That’s not bad’ he said. ‘But it’s flooded the pump’ I said. ‘That is bad’ he said. ‘I’ll come on Saturday. Don’t switch it on.’

Finally El Gordo was fixed and we all arrived in the house. There was much to learn. Our solar energy system, for a start. What did the mystifying array of lights, warnings and figures on the control panel mean? And when it went ‘peep peep’ with the red light flashing how worried should we be? When Gerardo arrived on Saturday to fix the pump we had a long list of questions. His explanations were mostly even more mystifying to the linguistically and technically challenged. However we’re gradually making sense of it, having come to realise the basic fact that in midwinter there isn’t enough sunlight and we do need to use the generator regularly to keep our batteries happy.

That was one saga, there are plenty others, every little thing takes time, effort and knowledge. I find it interesting that it is the more technical, modern, convenient side of things that I find more troublesome. Woodstoves and candles are so simple (we haven’t actually been reduced to candles very often, but I prefer them in my room) We’re about to get a washing machine, which we’ll be able to run while the sun is shining. But I feel a sort of regret, yes it’ll be easier, but it’s another thing to break down - and do washing machine repair men come out this far? In helicoptors?

And then there’s the cold, so far down to minus 5 some mornings. We have a good wood burning stove, and central heating as a back up, run from gas bottles. The house holds the warmth, unheated it stays around 12 degrees inside. I am acclimatizing to a cooler way of life, although I don’t wash as often.

There are two sides to the work now, the legal/planning side for the retreat centre and the building/ maintenance side on the community house, . We are well into both - plans have been presented to the ayuntamiento (local council) and this week we meet with Luis, our architect, and Jose and Manolo, our builders, to try to firm up the details for a contract, with a view to the work on the retreat centre beginning in Spring. Vajradevi and I are involved in these discussions, and Bianca mostly stays working in the house. Whenever we can all three work together on the building.

So for me there are two main types of working day. There is the type when we drive into Alcañiz for shopping, going to offices, logging on in the internet cafe, picking up fuel for the generator, propane bottles for the heating and recently taking vehicles for their MOT’s, and follow ups etc etc. I find that kind of day needs a lot of concentration. But is satisfying to learn more and find our way around how things work out here.

Then there is the type of day when we work together on the house - mixing mortar, building up stonework, sawing wood, chopping kindling. For me time expands on those days, the quietness of the hills sinks into me. It’s hard work but I feel happy.

The evenings are long at this time of year. After supper we sit around the estufa (stove) reading, writing. Some nights we watch a DVD of The West Wing on my computer. Bianca often meditates. We go to bed early - it’s very dark and very quiet and I usually sleep well. In the morning Vajradevi and I have begun to meditate together in a room we’ve set up with another estufa for warmth.

The sun rises late here, it’ s not usually getting light till past 8am, and the sunlight doesn’t hit the solar panels till nearly 10am. If the sun shines, we can turn the fridge on, and run the pump from the well, filling our water tank. If the sun doesn’t shine, we run the generator to keep our batteries happy and well. And another day begins, fire burning pinewood in the estufa, water from the ground, rocks to build the walls, clothes drying in the wind, and often the blue blue sky above.