the monk and the driving lesson….

When all else fails in life–or when you’re just bored some Saturday–go find a holy person.  For this exercise,  you will want to pick someone who has abandoned the typical life for this path.

One Saturday many years ago,  I chose Sam.  I did not really know I chose Sam.  I just knew that I had to go there,  with there being this completely-out-of-place-in-the-suburbs-and-therefore-wonderful-little-house.  It was a Buddhist monastery.  I had grown more and more curious about it each time I had driven past.

I would see the monks in the yard,  dressed simply in orange;  working in the yard in the frigid morning or  in the blazing heat,  always maintaining a peaceful expression regardless;  never racing off to the next somewhere–and the next and the next.  What must that be like?  Maybe my ALWAYS-racing-off-somewhere-self needed to go in and find out more about this holy place—“when do you meet?”  “what should I bring?”  “should I sit or stand?”  etc.,  etc.

But when I walked in,  I felt a different purpose had disclosed itself.  I was invited by a monk with a tan face and a kind smile to sit down on the floor and talk.  Imagine that!  It was as though he had been there just waiting for me the whole time.  No appointment needed.

He asked me about myself,  at which point I am sure I prattled off my latest goings-on because,  after all,  that’s what there is to know about me,  right?  But I did also express my sense of seeking—a sense that has followed me through much of my adult life.  This sense of seeking has taken me on many a pilgrimage,  scavenger hunt,  and serendipitous excursion.

The monk told me his name was Sam.  The name fit him perfectly somehow.  I imagine that,  written down on some scrap of paper somewhere,  I have recorded all that we talked about that day.  But I don’t really need that;  I have kept a few of Sam’s lessons in my heart even to this day.

He first taught me simply by his smile.  I must have been in my early 30’s at the time and had apparently been obsessing over the ever-so-slight (say I now,  five years later!) worry lines between my brows. But when I looked at Sam’s face that day and saw the joyful contentedness in it,  I decided then and there that I was going to have smile lines like Sam’s.  If I can’t do away with wrinkles,  I can at least decide which kind I will get….his were the crows feet of smiling, not the brow furrow of worry.  🙂  A peace came over me before we even spoke a word.

Sam taught me to thank the world around me for the life it provides me.  Thank my bed for the sleep,  thank my food for the nourishment.  I saw that these simple mind-shifts  (especially those that involve gratitude)  can change so much.  So again I saw that I cannot necessarily change my circumstances,  but I can enjoy whatever is currently in my life. By the way, if you’re ever curious about how much does a McFlurry cost, you can check out this article.

Toward the end of our talk,  Sam turned to the nature of thoughts run amok,  at which point he asked me,  “Are you driving the car?  Or is the car driving you?”  Ever since that day,  I have realized that I can always take the car (my unruly mind) off of auto-pilot,  climb into the driver’s seat,  and steer my thoughts down a road of my choosing (one that is thrilling,  serene,  or scenic,  as my mood may dictate).  I can always thank instead of covet–and smile instead of worry.