MyOutSpirit.com Gay Spirituality Blog

LGBTQ Buddhist Meditation Retreat at Garrison Institute is Your Chance for Revival and Reflection

 

2016 is shaping up to be a wild one, with a contentious election process and conflict all around us. From April 14-16, get away from it all and centered in your right mind at Garrison Institute’s annual silent retreat for (and by) LGBTQ people: “Waking Up Free, Whole, and Fabulous: Healing Within and In the World.”

 

“Attending a retreat revitalizes my aspiration for mindfulness practice, inspires me to continue deepening my practice, and reconnects me to myself and others,” says La Sarmiento, teacher at Insight Meditation Community of Washington and Inward Bound Mindfulness Education, and transgender themselves. “I come home feeling more grounded, open, compassionate, loving, and accepting of others.”

 

Participating in a mindfulness retreat even affects others in your life through “retreat osmosis,” says Madeline Klyne, co-founder of South Shore Insight in Hanover, MA.

 

“When I come home from a retreat, my wife says she can absorb some of the retreat energy I bring home! We are more open, more present, more spacious, more awake, and more connected.”

 

“A silent retreat offers a rare opportunity to take a break from our often crazy, busy world,” says Sarmiento.

 

Dharma teacher Gavin Harrison explains, “On a silent retreat, there is an opportunity to turn towards the infinite loveliness of our true nature, and this understanding is the gift that accompanies us back to the everydayness of our lives.

 

“What we are, most truly and deeply, is a ground of unutterable wakefulness, love, compassion, and wisdom. All the mystics tell us this.”

 

“Every year, I am reminded of the power of LGBTIQ people practicing together,” Klyne continues. “Many of us don’t even recognize the stress and tension we feel in a world where LGBTIQ people are still marginalized, and this retreat gives us a chance to literally breathe outside of our fears and anxieties.”

 

Mindfulness is important for LGBTQ people to practice, Sarmiento says, because “when we are NOT mindful, present, or comfortable in our skin, we have a tendency to: withdraw, act out, become impatient, be irritable, engage in unskillful behavior, be judgmental or overly critical, and unkind.”

 

“I was infected with HIV before the virus was identified,” Harrison recalls. “Without the ground of mindfulness at the time, and without a consolidation of inner affection and love, I gave myself to a sexual situation even though the voices within me were loud and filled with caution. I turned away from the knowing of my heart. It was an unconscious moment with permanent repercussions.

 

“I consider mindfulness, the spiritual journey, and awakening to my true nature to be the best medicine available on the planet!”

 

All the retreat leaders agree that mindfulness and meditation have enormous potential to make LGBTIQ people happier and healthier. Harrison concludes:

 

“The LGBTIQ community is thirsty for more love, honesty, integrity, and authenticity. We can make this happen moment-to-moment by the choices we make – by how you live your precious human life. When our preciousness is valued deeply we become a more trustworthy and impactful force for good in our beautiful world. We become the solution we pray for.”

 

 

Learn more and register for the retreat at https://www.garrisoninstitute.org/event/waking-up-free-whole-and-fabulous-healing-within-and-in-the-world-lgbtiq-retreat/

 

 

LGBTQI Meditation and Mindfulness: Reflections from the Teachers of Garrison Institute's LGBTQI Meditation Retreat

From April 9-12, 2015, you are invited to attend an LGBTQI Meditation Retreat at Garrison Institute in upstate New York: Embodying Presence in Our Lives: A Mindfulness Meditation Weekend for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Intersex, and Queer Communities.

MyOutSpirit was invited to chat with some of the retreat leaders about how meditation can improve the lives of queer people.

 

Being Gay Without Gay Culture

After a few too many late nights out, many people in the gay community begin to feel that they are ready for a new routine.  Within the course of a year, I went from being lost in a college daze to feeding orphanages one pair of yoga pants at a time.  This story is about how I woke up and moved on.

 

Disease and Pain Cannot Keep You From Joy

{by Patrick Henry Morris of Sang-gye Healing Arts}

It’s been a week since I returned from retreat in upstate New York. I’m settling into my newfound freedom of mind quite nicely. I feel so grateful to have had such a nourishing experience for my body and soul. I’m counting down the days until I can make the small train trip journey again to live with a beautiful sangha, mindfully.

I stayed for a week with the brothers and sisters of Blue Cliff Monastery. I was welcomed with smiles of joy and care upon arriving. I was just happy to be out of the concrete of New York City for a few days. I was so excited to see trees, grass, birds, and deer. The earth’s beauty was almost overwelming but I knew it was just what I needed.

If you’ve been following my story you know that the last 5 years have been anything but easy, especially the last 6 months have been extra intense on top of ongoing health issues. I’ve been living with/suffering from/learning from HS disease for about that long. Though I’ve never experienced pain quite like the kind provided by this disease, I have no regrets about my illness. It has been my greatest teacher, one I am eternally in debt to for its teachings. About two months ago, I awoke from a night of restful sleep missing my symptoms of illness I have been living with for these last few years. Fingers crossed, those symptoms still have not showed back up.

I’m not sure why the universe decided to throw me a bone but I couldn’t be more thankful. There were times where I didn’t believe I would live through this disease. There were times when I wanted to give up. There were times where I just wanted to be put out of my misery. Especially those times where It was too painful for me to get up and walk. Having these experiences in my timeline, the fact that I was able to use my legs and entire body during this retreat - to live mindfully and feel my experience at the monastery - kept bringing up a huge sense of gratitude with every step I would make. During walking meditation, just feeling the earth under my feet and breathing with each step made me tear up. I couldn’t believe I was walking, fully healed with no pain. This entire experience has been miraculous. I have no other explanation.

I needed to get away from the city and reground myself in the loving energy of nature. I went on many walks through the beautiful forest, feeling each step and looking at the streams, leaves, and clouds. The earth seemed brand new, full of possibility. Finally I was waking up to my life. Finally I was realizing all that I had within me.

For a week I lived in the present moment. I needed nothing else, wanting nothing else. I had everything I needed. Health, good food, support, meditation, friends, and the outside world full of beauty. The monastics that live at the monastery were so full of joy and inspiring. They shared beautiful stories of healing and wisdom. I listened to every word as if It might be my last time to use my ears. I ate every meal as if it might be my last meal to taste. I walked every step as if It was my last on the earth. I appreciated it. It nourished my body and soul and slowly, day by day, I began to come alive.

This retreat was a celebration. A celebration of healing. A celebration of my journey here. I’m so grateful for the suffering that has been handed to me as a gift. I want to learn from it all and help others relate to their pain in a differnet manner. It doesn’t have to consume us. We can learn to smile at our pain. We can learn to except pain and joy at the same time, instead of running towards joy and away from pain. We can make space in my hearts and minds to encompass whatever may be arising.

The peace and healing I recieved from this retreat has re-inspired many areas of my life. Just by being present with myself, all my problems started to unravel themselves. I’ve returned with a new vigor for life. I’m curious about all the people I share this world with. I vow to see them as no different than myself. Everyone is my family and I can smile at them. I want to learn as much as possible about everyone I meet. I want to help them. I want them to heal. Let’s heal together.

The monastics taught me many different things but the teaching that resonated with me the most was about healing our ancestors. It is Buddhists' belief that, when you practice mindfulness in everyday life, you heal past wounds. Not only do you heal your own wounds, but you also heal your ancestors' wounds. Going back as far as time goes back. Breaking the cycle of pain and giving life. I heal myself and I heal all others in contact with me in this life. If that’s not motivation to continue to heal and practice than I don’t know what is. I love that I can provide relief from pain for my family just by healing myself. We are really all connected. We really are all in this together.

I envision a day where we can all heal. A time when all of us can look at our minds and make friends with them. I look forward to the day when we are no longer enslaved by our own minds. When we live in harmony with the world around us. With its pain, with its joy. We will smile.

Smile, there is love.
Smile, there is pain.
Smile, don’t run away.
Smile, stay here.
Smile, be here.
Smile, feel.
Smile, accept.
Smile, send love.
Smile, recieve love.
Smile, you are beautiful.
Smile, you can heal.
Smile, you are alive.
Smile, to the possibilities.
SMILE

 

A Gay Yogi Begins His Year Long Meditation Instructor Training

 

{by Patrick Henry Morris, Awakened Artistry}

Last weekend I started my year long immersion training with The Interdependence Project in New York City. Entering those doors and climbing the 200 stairs to the loving space of my Sangha I was nervous with the teeming possiblities. What would this training mean to me? How would it change me? What would I learn? Am I smart enough to complete this? Will the others understand me? Will I be a good teacher? Will I be a good student?

As we took our seats, Ethan Nichtern started by giving us some meditation instruction. At the end, he asked us to get in touch with what we feel in our bodies and to start getting comfortable with being on the spot, showing up and staying in the present, no matter how fearful we may be. At that moment, all the questions in my mind vanished. I made a commitment to be available to what the world was teaching me at that moment.

Being completely open to what was arising didn’t mean I wasn’t scared anymore. I don’t think I stopped sweating for the rest of the weekend. We went through a study session and taking turns teaching mindfulness meditation and giving feedback. I was nervous for all of it except when I was actually leading meditation. I stayed with those feelings, I felt them. And what do ya know, I didn’t die. I’m still here to relate this story to you. I always assume whatever hard task is in front of me will kill me but some how I prevail. I should start remembering that from the beginning.

As the weekend progressed, I kept feeling more inspired and grateful for the opportunity to learn from 15 different teachers during the course of this year. People from all walks of life with such vastly different experiences. Each unique in their own way, yet we have so much in common. It’s nice to share a space with so many indivuduals who are interested in learning more about themselves and their own minds.

I’m no longer nervous about being put on the spot. I know it’s exactly what I need to do to learn more about myself, become accepting, and grow. I’m inspired to continue on this journey and learn how to better relate the teachings so that others may benefit.

May I be of benefit.

---

The Dead Man on the Subway is My Mother

On just another December afternoon in New York City, my life changed forever.

It was a normal commute home from Target with my boyfriend. I felt something in the air that day. Sometimes the earth decides to open and speak to me, this day was my time to listen.

The train came to a stop at our destination but when the doors opened; I didn’t see the normal grungy tile of the subway station. Someone else was staring into my eyes. There was one differing quality of our gazes: I was looking at him, but he wasn’t looking back. His body was pinned between the train and the platform.

This man had already left the world the first time I saw him, yet I felt in my heart that I knew who was laying on the ground. The train had crushed his body between the platform and train car, taking his soul to places unknown.

I stood in shock for a moment gazing at his lifeless body with all the love I could muster. In him I witnessed the universe. I saw my mother. I saw my father. I saw my brothers. I saw my sisters. I saw all previous generations. I saw all future generations. I saw a man that had once loved, and had once again returned to that love.

As I stood there softly gazing, I noticed how peaceful his expression was. His body remained there in front of us, yet the man he once was, was free. I cried many tears of sadness for this man, but they were not in vain. He was gone and I was here suffering.

The human heart feels anguish when we lose someone. Even though I didn't know his name, I felt the pull of the universe take his love away from us. Only later would I realize the only one in pain that December day were those of us witnessing the loss of that man. That man who deep inside is the same as me. That man who has been my father. My brother, my mother, my sister, endless times.

When we see transitions, we see ourselves die a little. That day I witnessed a death, and a part of me died, too; the death of my soul as it were. Since then, I’ve been born anew in some sense. My thought patterns aren’t even the same.

When I look out into the world, I see ways to help it, and I see how we are slowly dying, all of us. Time keeps ticking away and with each breath we are closer to joining this man who died on the subway. Hatred is silenced by love. To love is to live. Cultivate love and there is no argument. That man showed me what this life means.

Usually love is expressed and it has a hook on the end. How often do we radiate love onto others like sunshine, wishing nothing in return? A free gift to ignite your soul?

This is what I offer. Unconditional love to all beings the world over. To those sick, those dying, those living, those sad, those happy, those smiling creatures that make up everything we are witness to on this earth, I offer you love.

May you accept and find love wherever you seek it. May it heal your wounds. May it be the key. May It be. Love.

---

{Patrick Henry Morris is a yoga teacher and make-up artist in New York City. In 2013, he will complete his teacher training at Buddhist center, The Interdependence Project. Follow Patrick online on TUMBLR, Twitter and Facebook.}

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Artist envisions a gay Passion of Christ

{Rev. Kittredge Cherry, Jesus In Love}

Jesus is a contemporary gay man in “The Passion of Christ: A Gay Vision,” a series of 24 paintings by gay artist Douglas Blanchard with text by lesbian author Kittredge Cherry.

The images show Jesus jeered by fundamentalists, tortured by Marine look-alikes and rising again to enjoy homoerotic moments with God and friends. He faces forms of rejection that feel familiar to contemporary LGBT people. He stands up to priests, businessmen, lawyers, and soldiers—all of whom look eerily similar to the people holding those jobs today.

The paintings make Christ more accessible to gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people and our allies. Christ’s story is for everyone, but queer people often feel left out because conservatives use Christian rhetoric to justify hate and discrimination.

For example, “The Last Supper” (above) appears with this text:

“This is my body which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” -- Luke 22:19 (RSV)

Jesus’ friends didn’t know it would be their last meal with him, even though he tried to prepare them. All his closest friends were there, including the man whom Jesus loved. Jesus snuggled his Beloved and talked about love, and then about betrayal, and then a lot more about love. Jesus said he was going away and urged them all to love each other as he had loved them. The greatest love, he told them, is to lay down your life for your friends. He handed bread to them and said something strange: Take, eat; this is my body. Then he passed around a cup of wine, saying, Drink, all of you, this is my blood. He gave and they received completely, an act of true communion. The wine tasted sweet, with a touch of bitterness.

Jesus, thank you for feeding me!

___
“The Passion of Christ: A Gay Vision” is running in daily installments at the Jesus in Love Blog on LGBT spirituality and the arts. Image credit: “The Last Supper” by Douglas Blanchard.

kd lang turns inside out

{this article appears in the first issue of MyOutSpirit-Austin Magazine, www.MyOutSpirit-Austin.com}

Melvin McLeod: Over the years, you’ve made passing references to Buddhism, but this is the first time you’ve discussed your Buddhist practice in detail. How long have you been a Buddhist?

k.d. lang: From a very early age I have considered myself to be a Buddhist. I don’t even know where that came from, it was just an innate feeling. I was also very interested in—and very sure of—the concept of reincarnation. Then the older I got and the more I learned about Buddhism, the more I felt at home with its principles and philosophy. I took refuge as a Buddhist about seven years ago, so it’s clearly something that I’ve kept relatively low key in the press. I don’t think it’s necessary or even helpful to advertise your practice of the dharma.

What type of Buddhism do you practice?

k.d.lang: About eight years ago I met a teacher here in Los Angeles from the Nyingma lineage of Tibet, Lama Chödak Gyatso Nubpa. The great teacher Chagdud Tulku asked him to come here and work on stabilizing dharma in the West. Lama Gyatso quickly became my teacher. I have been practicing and studying with him since.

I’m very proud to be a Nyingma practitioner. It totally suits my character. It’s the oldest Tibetan lineage  and yet in some ways the most radical, you might say. Although there is plenty of academic study, it is not fundamentally academic. Beyond that, the importance of being a Nyingma to me is the purity of the lineage. The oral transmission has remained unbroken and it’s very, very potent. There is an unwavering dedication and homage to Guru Rinpoche, the founder of the lineage, and to your root lama. That kind of deep dedication is what makes the Nyingma tradition so special.

What practices do you do?

k.d. lang: I’m actually in the middle of doing my ngöndro, the preliminary Vajrayana practices. I practice it in my hotel room, on the plane, wherever I can. As far as our sangha is concerned, there are practices that we do as a group on a regular basis. We have a thröma retreat that we do every year. We do Yeshe Tsogyal and a few other secret practices. We do Orgyen Dzambhala every New Year’s.

Committing to a teacher as you have, particularly one in the Tibetan tradition, can really turn your life upside down.

k.d. lang: Yes, absolutely! [Laughs] That’s very true! When you find your teacher your life is turned upside down, but in the most divine way. My involvement with the dharma has completely changed the structure of my life. Our sangha is very small, so we work very hard. I would say that supporting Lama Gyatso Rinpoche’s activities is my number-one job. Together with my partner, Jamie Price, I’m on the board of directors of Ari Bödh, the American Foundation for Tibetan Cultural Preservation. We’ve been building a long-term retreat centre on a 475-acre retreat property north of Los Angeles. We’re just four years old now, but we are planning to create a facility that will accommodate retreats of three or more years. We have a temple, which has a lovely statue of Guru Rinpoche commissioned by Lama Gyatso.

We also have a children’s camp called Tools for Peace. The curriculum we use there is being translated into four languages now. Kids come to Ari Bödh every summer for the camp, and I serve as a cook and bottle washer there. It’s very rewarding.

What about your singing career?

k.d. lang: Well, my singing career got put on the back burner a little bit. When I took refuge and became a practitioner in earnest, I started devoting my time and energy to practice and building our meditation center. Music became this thing that basically kept me paying the bills. Fortunately, I had the opportunity to make the record with Tony Bennett, Wonderful World, and then Hymn to the 49th Parallel, an album of covers of classic Canadian songs. Interpretive records take far less time and energy than writing and recording your own record.

Also, starting on the path really wreaked havoc on the concept of writing material. I was always worried about whether I had to literally become like Milarepa, the great yogi and ascetic, and write songs about spinning the dharma wheel [laughs]. I was a little nervous about the prospect of having to do that. That was one of the reasons it took me so long to write the new record. I was processing all of this information I had been learning and absorbing, which was changing the actual structure of my brain, and my soul, and my heart.

It’s not unusual—I know myself—to think at the beginning that you have to go off and live in a cave or something.

k.d. lang: Exactly. You can become pretty carried away, to the point where you feel you have to let go of your friends and your house and all sorts of things, and nothing can be integrated. It’s total chaos. Then all of a sudden everything starts to integrate. At a certain point, Buddhist practice is so inseparable from everything you do that you start to live and breathe it. I suppose that’s the gradual process of awakening—it’s naturally incorporated into your very being. You don’t even think that you’re processing things in a “Buddhist way,” particularly.

What about your songs?

k.d. lang: I had a couple of conversations with Rinpoche, asking him whether it was important for me to actually integrate my practice into my lyrics. He told me, “Oh, no. Not necessary.” That was a big relief, because it took away the pressure of having to produce explicit dharma songs. Of course, the dharma is integrated into the way I think and breathe and live, so it’s also integrated into the way I write lyrics. But it hasn’t been purposeful. It’s been natural. It has been a total relief to realize that. Buddhism is a religion of non-proselytizing, so it would have felt very unnatural to make an effort to include Buddhism in my lyrics.

How would you say, then, that your practice has affected the songs on your new album?

k.d. lang: I’m a young practitioner. I’m really just in the initiation stages, which is like standing naked in front of the mirror and diving inside to see what you’re working with, what kind of a mess is going on in there! [Laughs] The new album, Watershed, is a reflection on my various relationships—my relationship to my partner, my relationship to my music, to my fame, to my teacher, to this existence. I try and touch on those things on some of the songs, such as “Je Fais La Planche” and “Flame of the Uninspired.” “Coming Home” is about finding my past. I tried to write the song in a way that would transcend all of the pedantic ways of expressing it, and just be completely naïve about it, you might say.

I have always been struck by your willingness to expose yourself in your music—your heart, your desires, your pain. That kind of openness and vulnerability, which takes courage, is a core dharma principle.

k.d. lang: I guess that’s been there. I would like to think I’ve always been Buddhist; it just took me a while to find my teacher.

Your song “Constant Craving” is a beautiful and accurate restatement of Buddhism’s first noble truth.

k.d. lang: I think “Constant Craving” just comes out of the experience of being human. The realm of desire is such a common theme in my music. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I like it so much. [Laughs]

My Buddhist teacher, Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche, said it was essential for the Buddhist practitioner to have a “sad and tender heart.” Your music often has those qualities of tenderness and pain.

k.d. lang: Definitely. I suppose “melancholy” is a word that might apply, but I kind of shy away from that word because it carries a negative connotation. There is, though, a peacefulness in melancholy, because it’s balanced. When something is too entirely desperate, or too entirely sublime, it’s not balanced. The middle way is the most sustaining.

Does the title of the album, Watershed, refer to your own life and what you’ve gone through becoming a committed Buddhist?

k.d. lang: I would say so. The idea of watershed has a great deal of pertinence to becoming a Buddhist and following the path. It seems to me that the flow of dharma—or the flow of one’s own innate buddhanature—is like water. There are obstacles, but eventually the water will find its way around them. A change of direction happens when you take refuge and become a practitioner. For me, it’s been about reassessing, reviewing, and reprioritizing everything in my life. It’s been about revitalizing my morality and my relationship to cause and effect, meaning what I do as a person—with my body, speech, and mind—and how it affects all other beings. Each song, as I said, is about my relationship to something, and it’s also about the cause and effect of each of those relationships.

When the album comes out, and you talk to the mainstream press about the title, are you going to talk about it in Buddhist terms, as you are now?

k.d. lang: I would essentially answer in the same way I’m answering you, although I wouldn’t use terms like “bodhichitta” or “planting the seed of dharma” or “refuge” because dharma is a very personal thing and I wouldn’t want to have it taken out of context, which I think would be a negative thing.

In other words, it’s better to be it than preach it.

k.d. lang: Exactly. I think we’ve seen instances where famous people have talked about Buddhism in the press, in a way that was not necessarily beneficial. I feel very protective of the dharma path and very protective of my relationship with Rinpoche. But at the same time, I want to connect people to it, I want to awaken people to it. I have been very cautious, though.

Beyond its impact on your lyrics, has your meditation practice influenced how you sing?

k.d. lang: Absolutely. The effect on my voice is immeasurable. Truly immeasurable. Doing mantra and doing the prayers has completely changed my voice. Once again, I don’t know if I can define it exactly. It’s more ethereal or elusive than saying something like, “My voice is enriched by the lower register.” It’s not that simple. My relationship to the control and fear of singing is gone. I don’t mean breath control. I mean control as in forcing myself into the music and feeling that I’m controlling the music, rather than feeling like a vessel or a vehicle. I trust my teacher so much, and I trust the path so much, that I also trust that I can do the work and simply be a vessel for something larger.

Just to know that there’s a greater purpose to my music, a real purpose, has taken all the work out of it. That’s emancipating, because I don’t get stressed singing anymore. I don’t get tired singing anymore. The very first thing Rinpoche said to me the first time I met him was, “Make sure your motivation is clear.” I’d always thought that my motivation was right, but it turns out that there’s a lifetime of examination in finding true motivation. 

How do you feel your music can benefit others?

k.d. lang: The most important thing about my music—other than making people happy and peaceful for a second—would be the good fortune I have to be close to the lineage masters. Somehow, through my music, I could connect the listeners to those masters.

The blessing of your connection could come through the art you produce.

k.d. lang: Yes. Certainly not in a mundane, phenomenal way, but in the most divine way possible.

Many musicians try to communicate emotion through elaborate ornamentation. Your music tends to be spare and straightforward, and yet to me it conveys more emotion and meaning. Is that quality of space and simplicity something you have consciously cultivated?

k.d. lang: I could go on about this topic for hours. There are many reasons for that kind of quality in the music I do. Number one, I am a Buddhist, so emptiness is everything. When people ask, “Do you look at the glass as half full or half empty?” I always say, “I’m Buddhist. I look at it as half empty!” [Laughs]

To me, space is everything. Space is the opposite truth to sound, so it is as important as sound. As a producer, I’m always looking for space, and I’m always looking to create that pocket, especially for the voice.

I grew up in the Canadian Prairies, so I know about big spaces. I think my basic aesthetic, as a person as well as an artist, is minimalist, because of the Prairies. Ornamentation, I think, is an urban aesthetic. I would venture to say that it is an African-American urban sort of thing. I think it stemmed from the gospel. That is not my background, who I am, my history. When you hear Mahalia Jackson or early Stevie Wonder or early Aretha Franklin, or early gospel singers, that’s a very pure, beautiful thing. It’s real. Now, music with a lot of ornamentation is often a caricature of that pure form. It’s fraudulent.

Speaking as a fan, which I have been for many years, I would say that you have one of the finest voices in the world, like a Maria Callas, Pavarotti, or Streisand. If it’s not too strange to ask, what is it like being able to sing like that?

k.d. lang: On a purely mundane level, it is totally mind-blowing to have this sound come out of my body. It feels like a whole ocean of surfers are available to me at any given moment to open up my voice and play around with a melody. It does blow my mind.

But the deeper truth is that we all have world-level gifts. I’m not just saying that. I honestly believe it. Maybe sometimes we are not able to reach and bring out our gifts, but they are there. It can be quite ordinary—when you see a Bhutanese woman making cheese dumplings and you taste one and it’s the best cheese dumpling you’ve ever eaten in your life, it’s the same thing! It’s essence. Ultimately, I don’t really see myself as separate from anybody else in terms of having a gift. 

 
Melvin McLeod is Editor-In-Chief of Shambhala Sun. www.ShambhalaSun.com

kd lang’s new album, RECOLLECTION, celebrates her 25 years of recordings.

Kuan Yin: Androgynous spirit of compassion

Buddhists are celebrating the birthday of Kuan Yin on the day before Easter this year -- a holy synchronicity.

Renowned gay author Toby Johnson writes that Kuan Yin is wonderful for LGBT people and our allies because he/she unites male and female.

Click here for his post about Kuan Yin at the Jesus in Love Blog on LGBT spirituality and the arts.

(Image credit: “Olga’s Kuan Yin” by William Hart McNichols © www.fatherbill.org)

How do GLBT folks fit into Buddhism?

A lesbian Buddhist friend recently asked me for tips on how to “fill the void” between Buddhists and lesbian and gay people when she gave a speech at a Buddhist conference.

Her impression was that the Buddhists had little connection to GLBT folks.  It's true that GLBT Buddhists are not as visible as gay, lesbian, bi and trans folks who follow Christ. 

GLBT Christians have had to come together and speak out because conservative Christians are directly attacking us, singling us out as the worst sinners, using the issue of homosexuality to raise money, etc.  It appears, at least within American Buddhism, that Buddhists are more tolerant about homosexuality.  However, reality is more complex.