Suffice to say:
right now there is a lot of suffering, plenty even; more than enough to go
round.
When it falls to
commenting on the turbulences of the day, perhaps we expect Buddhists to speak
of peace and calm. But as we know, telling someone who is categorically not
calm to calm down is not going to cut
it.
I used to think,
even as the shabby excuse for a Buddhist that I am, that I ought to be wise at
people: dispense words as balm for their suffering souls. What a dick.
I used to also think
that being a Buddhist would mean that I could sail above the currents of
suffering. I would see suffering around me
and I would actually think (I cringe as I type) "I bet I could
handle that better".
This was when I was
young, when I had energy and confidence, and was living a pretty untroubled
life.
I've taken a few
knocks by now though, and seen a few things. Nothing drastic, just a discreet
little Buddhist cabaret of old age, illness and death among those close to
me. I'm all out of energy. I run on coffee fumes and desperation. And still, my
life ain't half bad.
I was recently struck by one of the most famous of Zen koans: the Wild Fox koan,
"Hyakujo's Fox" to give its formal name, case number 2 of the
Mumonkan.
I won't quote the
whole thing. But essentially a Zen monk is condemned to five hundred lifetimes as a
fox (foxes were a kind of minor demon in the old Chinese/Japanese way of
things) because he denies that he is vulnerable to the workings of karma.
That's to say, he thinks he can rise above cause-and-effect, above the system,
above the messy entanglement of humanity, and all the rest.
Did you ever see the
TV show Quantum Leap? The protagonist Sam would "wake up" in a
different person's body each week, and would troubleshoot their lives until he
had "solved" the situation, and was moved along to the next scenario,
and the next episode. I think the monk in the Fox koan sees himself like Sam.
But to really have
the superpower of walking in someone else's shoes is to realise that in those
shoes, you would act no different to the original shoe owner. You wouldn't be
like Sam, zipping about and sorting out people's lives. You would be caught by the
same traps, enmired by the same sorrows, and blinded by the same ignorances as
the person whose life you had improbably usurped.
We are all capable
of anger, ignorance and hatred. If we don't recognise these things in
ourselves, then we will have to spend many lifetimes wandering in the wilds,
until we do.
Sometimes I am to be found in those wilds myself.
Peace, from a beast.
