Why I Volunteer at Land of Joy

Volunteer.

I knew what the word meant but it was one of those that didn’t apply to me. It was something for other people – you know the type – kind people, smiley people, people who run marathons. Charity types. Definitely not me.

And so, after ignoring the word endless times in my life, I found myself in a situation where it kept popping-up. I was midway through writing a book. Actually – I was stuck – but I was proud of the opening quote.

Be your own lamp.

Pretty cool, I thought. The trouble was I didn’t write it, Buddha did. He was that guy who always seemed to be a golden garden statue. Whoever he was, he’d written a self-help book with just four words, and he did it ages ago. How? My total knowledge of Buddhism was a skim-read of Wikipedia. I panicked: what if I promoted my book on a big podcast and they asked what the quote really meant? I needed to know more, and who knows, he might have other stuL I could use.

I went back to Wikipedia but the answers still weren’t popping. I tried YouTube, Instagram, even TikTok. Nothing. So, I asked friends, and strangely they kept saying the “V” word. “Why don’t you volunteer?” said one. “Volunteering’s supposed to be alright,” said another. Apparently, these people knew me. Finally, one suggested that the best way to sort out your own stuckness was to help others. As a reader of self-help, I knew this was a reliable strategy. I turned to my my digital friend, Google:

volunteer buddhist uk

A few things came up but one stood out. Land of Joy. I laughed. Now, if Buddha’s quote was sophisticated this was surely coined by a kid with crayons. Land – of – Joy? Click. Oh? Really? Fair enough.

I dug some more and the name appeared in a top-10 list of spiritual retreats at the Independent. Strangely, it was the only one who didn’t put a price for potential staying guests. How odd, I thought; my native London was built chasing money. The contrast got me.

I went back to their site and filled in a volunteer application. After a couple of emails back and forth, WhatsApp pinged and I spoke to a Swiss nun. After chatting for a few seconds, she asked if I could turn video on. Luckily, I was dressed. Instead of being scary, she turned out to be friendly, funny, and down-to-earth. We spoke for an hour but it felt like minutes. I hadn’t prepared and ironically that was the right strategy. This was more about attitude than achievement. My basic understanding of Buddhism was they were good people, so I answered questions with an honesty I didn’t think I had. I got oL the call feeling happy and a few days later, I got a happy email too. I’d be going up to Northumberland to help out for 3 months, with the option to ditch after 2-weeks. Before I set oL, my dad oLered some wisdom, “Have you heard of modern slavery?” I got on the train.

My arrival in a local village was an epic-fail when I tried to use Uber. There were no cars for hundreds of miles, something echoed by the local cab firm. I set-oL to make the final 4-miles on foot. Luckily, a dog walker spotted my wobbly walk who said dragging bags while dressed like a ninja wasn’t ideal for the unlit country roads. After an embarrassing call to the same Swiss nun who recruited me, an oL- site volunteer called Lou picked me up. Expecting to be in trouble, I thanked her repeatedly. And soon came my first lesson in Buddhist kindness: no thanks were necessary. Lou just laughed at my city ways and said it was amazing to see me. She’d lived in Spain for decades and after moving back to the UK, specifically chose to locate near Land of Joy. “Why did you do that?” I asked. “Service,” she replied. I assumed she meant the military. It turns out that as a former set designer for TV and film, she loved helping out with the house’s interior décor and extensive gardens.

As Lou pulled into the grounds, I thanked my lucky stars for meeting “the nice one” and hoped the others wouldn’t be too bad.

As if to test my city boy cynicism, the other volunteers were equally nice. They welcomed me in and lifted my heavy bags, joking about what was in them. Food, of course. I’d worried about needing to harvest my own cornflakes. After a cup of tea and sneaky sixth biscuit, I was showed to my room. This was December, and I’d assumed Buddhist centres were the same as youth hostels in terms of cosiness and unlikely to dazzle on TripAdvisor. In fact, the double- glazed room was warmer and better appointed than what I had in London (thanks to Lou). Volunteers get their own room, with modern toilets and showers peppered around the building. Loving kindness, the central Buddhist way of being, certainly applies to volunteers.

After a fantastic sleep aided by the dark northern skies, I awoke into a diLerent world. Despite being winter, Land of Joy was a rainbow of colours with every head turn. And, where nature ran low on paint, Tibetan prayer flags kept the colour coming. I didn’t know what they meant, but I was assured by their presence. And boy, were they present. The centre’s 40 acres of land includes forest, gardens, waterways, and general greenery. No matter how far I explored, the flags were everywhere. The grounds sit within a national park and everything within it is treasured. The day before I arrived, I’d been told-oL in London for feeding pigeons. On this day, the centre’s resident monk, Tulku-la, asked if I could do something to help out. “Sure,” I said, slightly nervous about what I was agreeing to. He smiled, “Could you feed the birds please.” My city-derived skepticism started dissolving, and it’s continued to dissolve with every passing moment.

I was soon meeting other members of the team, an eclectic mix. There were former teachers, counsellors, aircraft engineers, and the occasional doctor.

Pondering such diverse backgrounds makes you realise why people are drawn in: they want to help. And as foufou as it sounds, just 48 hours in, I felt the same.

The centre has three main paths to Buddhist learning. Firstly, there are retreat huts, wood cabins where an individual has a few days to a few months of self-led practice. The huts blew my mind when I first entered one. A bathroom, shower, cooking facilities, and the all- important peaceful space to meditate or learn something. Those who stay in the huts are usually in silence, with their meals being brought to them on a once-daily basis. In London I was always the recipient of a Just Eat food order, and now here I was, the delivery guy. To my surprise, delivering food felt just as satisfying.

Secondly, there is a coachhouse, a small annex to the main building with people who spend time alone but who also visit the main house for meals. Wherever people choose to stay, their practice is the main thing. Buddhism isn’t that diLerent to self-help, with a vast syllabus of topics to guide.

And finally, there are group retreats. Multiple times per year, up to 20 people visit the centre for a teacher-led course. The learning is in the gompa, the centre’s sacred space, with accommodation being in the house. Retreats are the lifeblood of the centre, and it wasn’t long before I experienced the energy they bring. For volunteers, the energy actually ramp-ups before they start. Like roadies for a band, we’d divide the house and grounds into lists of stuL-to-do. We’d prepare guest rooms by making beds, spruce-up relaxation areas, and generally make the house feel welcoming.

Retreats feed the mind, but as the mind needs fuel, we’d also work behind-the-scenes to ensure a seamless access to quality calories. Being used to a home of normal size, the industrial-sized kitchen and dining space was initially overwhelming. But the overwhelm soon went when I experienced what being part of a team truly meant.

My fellow volunteers and I became a happy team of bustling bees, each attending to something. Top-up a fruit bowl here, a water jug there, fill the pantry, add napkins to the table. The end result of these seemingly small jobs was big in terms of hospitality. To my surprise, I even learned to cook. Beyond burning toast, I had zero cooking experience before I arrived. Instead of getting grilled, Gordon Ramsay style, my fellow volunteers slowly transformed me. And no joke, peeling potatoes was a breakthrough! It’s amazing how much confidence grows with the right teachers. Okay, I wasn’t exciting the Michelin inspectors, but I was roaring through roast veg. And it’s not just veg I’ve chopped, I’ve learned to chop wood for fires, paint, plant, prune, ride on lawnmowers, you name it. Unlike most of the learning I’ve experienced throughout life, acquiring skills as a volunteer has been fun, mainly because those who helped were once like me.

A true highlight of volunteering is meeting people. The quality of our relationships is often the quality of our life, and few opportunities are better for that than being in a Buddhist centre. Like volunteers, those coming for retreats are from every age group, background, and place. Just being exposed to such variety is a joy, as it getting to see the common humanity in others. It’s also a privilege to share the space with some wonderful retreat-leaders, some of whom have studied Buddhism for decades. If I had time, I’d sit-in on various retreats, but even driving a teacher to a train station became an opportunity to download some wisdom.

In retreat centres, there are no typical days, but around 6 hours is spent “working”. With regular days oL, that leaves plenty of time for personal pursuits. As a writer, there are few better spaces for thinking, and I suspect that would be the same for anyone creative. Of course, there’s wi-fi, ample food, and all the mod-cons, but there’s also something few places can honestly promote nowadays: peace.

Of course, there are challenges. Living with others, wherever you live, always has them. People get tired, bored, cranky, the usual stuL. And, seeing fellow volunteers leave is never easy. The diLerence is, in a Buddhist centre, your ability to cope is way better. You’re around intelligent, friendly, and forward-thinking people. These are exactly the kind of folk you need when the going gets tough. Nothing replaces a real family, but these places are like a brand-new version, and that’s powerful.

Someone once said that when the student is ready, the teacher will appear. Perhaps that’s what happened to me. I didn’t come to learn, but I did. I learned to value kindness, a lesson I know will serve me throughout life. I also didn’t expect to have so much fun, but I did. And finally, I got to understand Buddha’s quote. Be your own lamp means a few things. Sure, it means fully trusting your own abilities. But it also means that when you light the way for others, you also brighten your path.

So, if like me, you think helping out is all about others, think again. You just might help yourself.

Volunteer.