I had an opportunity to forgive and of forgiveness...
And, in a split second of stillness, I took it. Are you thinking that wisdom is knowing? Are you thinking that knowing makes you more competent or skilled and that maybe that's full instead of empty? I'm pretty sure I thought so. I was wrong.
So, here's the set up (you have to have the back story), and I want to tell Bob M. to go get himself a cup of coffee or a scotch and settle in. I took on a project. It had a lot of potential. It had risk, but I took it anyway. It was for a client I had worked with closely in the past. A client who could be unpredictable. It was for a client who was at odds with another client in the same firm. Even if I didn't know it at the time - I should have. I know it doesn't sound like a good idea. It was worth it. Not because it wouldn't blow up. Of course it did.
My client, well he was sorry I'd gotten caught in the middle. The other client? A woman who I had considered my friend, was not nearly as forgiving. In fact, she went out of her way to ensure that I "would never work in this town again!". The firm? Well as coincidence would have it, some chirpy little woman from purchasing called me to let me know the rules had changed. In a fit of self-protection the firm had decided that all small business and sole proprietorship vendors would have to carry millions of dollars in additional insurance. I was in California - far away from home - trying my best to help manage a family emergency. I made some very difficult choices and walked away.
It's not to say that I wasn't angry, because I was. I was also relieved. How could anything be worth that kind of BS? And I was scared to death. The income hit alone should have forced me to make a different decision. It didn't. My oldest son had just graduated from college. It was paid for, in full. But I carried that anger and stress with me for a long while anyway. I tried to shake it and couldn't. It sort of ebbed away on it's own over time.
One day not long ago I got a note from my friend. She invited me out for a drink. Now here's another choice, right? I could have said no. The ever present thirteen year old that lives inside my head certainly wanted me to. Hah! Take that! Wait, how many lines ago did I say I'd forgiven and moved on?
But there's that pesky stillness again. Yes, sure of course. I'd like that. Would I?
She was there at the bar with a gift bag in her hands. Her fear and sorrow palpable. It overwhelmed my instant of stillness - it filled it. I let it. I'm not sure it was by choice, but I just couldn't bring myself to dishonor her courage. Alex and Ani. I had never heard of them before. They are "committed to building a culture that focuses entirely on mindful actions." It's a lovely little bracelet. I'll wear it with her intent.
"I wanted to do this publicly. I want our friends to know. But this is good too. I'm sorry I was such an asshole."Stunned. By the past maybe. Question is, am I gracious enough, capable enough, secure enough? Some days, I am. I chose empathy. So here's where this gets interesting. And of course, turns into that charming opportunity for personal growth. Stinky bits those are.
During the first glass of wine. OK, maybe the second, she started to talk about her work with the Dharma Refuge. Something since she'd left the firm. Yep. Either way it's good for her. Two Buddhist monks were coming to Rochester for a fund raiser - the Dali Lama has his US center in Ithaca - not far from here. A Sand Mandala. I've always wanted to see that. Convergence, coincidence, stumbling across your own silliness perhaps? Was I willing to help? Oh ye of little faith. Even I know opportunity when it slaps me in the face.
So I found myself on a sunny, but still chilly morning driving two Tibetan monks to Nazareth college in time to start their first meditation. I don't care what's going on in my actual, every day world. I stayed to watch. I listened, listened and tried to participate in their meditation. It's fascinating even if I didn't understand it. They use an apparently simple and humble system. The "sand" is made of very finely ground sacred marble dust from Tibet. The colors are mixed from non-toxic dyes from India. They use funnels, cones and small scrapers to paint an intricate design.
I was mesmerized. I took some pictures. One of these two gentlemen monks asked about the phone app I was using. STOP RIGHT THERE. He pulled his Iphone out of his robes. The present and the profound swished into a day-glow river in my optic filters. My sense of humor fully engaged I did my best to help him upload TruHD. Turns out Monks have a sense of humor too!
You know what's coming don't you? I had to ask the flood of questions that had been building. That's how I learned about the sacred dust, the company in India that provides non-toxic colors, the funnels, cones and scrapers used to create a mandala. And here's how the story goes. Why non-toxic? Because the Mandala is transitory. It's gathered up at the end of the meditation and distributed into a nearby moving body of water. Tibetan Monks do not want to poison the water supply. I think I was sort of shocked. After all that work?
What? Wait. I'm not sure I understand.
So he explained. The Mandala is a prayer. A meditation. It's transitory. The vessels and tradition that goes with the transition from finished mandala to moving water are part of the process. They are the wisdom of meditation. As soon as you're full of the wisdom of one experience, the experience, the Mandala, the prayer becomes part of the wisdom. And the wisdom becomes the question.
Wisdom is empty.
Once you think you have it, it simply flows into your next moment of insight. The next instant of stillness. So I had this incredible day. I had the opportunity to see in my mind's eye - the grace and light of forgiveness. Because I was able to forgive someone else. And later that day I was able to share that story with a room full of people open and waiting to hear it.
I see a small bowl that fits into the palm of my hand. It's light on the inside but solid at the edges and rough in the palm of my hand. Fades away into water. It's a painting I've yet to figure out how to paint. Oh yea, and today is my birthday. I chose today.
Namaste. A Sanskrit word that roughly translates into, I bow to you. Thank you.
