"Don't you know that you're the only one sitting here?" The Tibetan Lama readjusted after speaking, then glared at me across the dinner table. We had met two days earlier, on the train platform in Varanasi. Since then I had been spending nearly all of my time in Bodhgaya, the place of the Buddha's enlightenment, with him and his student, Bodhi, who is my same age. I had been benefiting from his conversational teachings, which at first seemed esoteric, but later felt very poignant; and have been enduring his purposeful attempts at pushing my buttons.
When I arrived in Gaya train station, Nikesh, the founder of the Ao Zora school, picked me up in an auto rickshaw. Ao Zora, is a school that my friend Vic! had started a small charity to support, it lies across a dried up river, in the old town of Uruvlea, where in the time of the Buddha, a young girl Sujata lived; she gave the Buddha a meal of milk and rice which revived his strength after a period of asceticism, giving him the energy needed to awaken. During my time in Bodhgaya, I had planned on spending a bit of time at the school to try and help their effort. They house ten orphans, who live there at all times; as well as, educating about thirty other students from neighboring villages. I arrived to find that the school was in the back of a convenience store, in a decrepit brick building, crawling with mice. Despite all of this the children are all happy and pleasant and I've found that they're intelligence surpasses their age level in problem solving. After all, they astutely observed that soccer must not be my favorite sport, when we played for a while out back. I taught a science lesson after the recesses period ended, where, to my surprise, while eliciting a response of 1 day, I got and answer of 24 hours, and from the same student came 365 days rather than 1 year. I was happy to be able to help, as well as to listen to the hopes and dreams of the young students.
"I want to go to the Sun"
"You know, its very hot there, something like 12,000 degrees C"
The student's eyes opened wide.
"Well, I don't care if I die, as long as the world knows it was I who went there."
Sitting beneath a sister tree at the Mahabodhi temple I sat staring at the Lama. "These ants have no conception of our world, Bryan. Their life is getting food, and building tunnels, and protecting the Queen, she is everything. They coat their mine shafts with phosphorus for light, amazing little creatures. We have no knowledge of their experience." As I became frustrated last night, not being able to capture the Taj Mahal "correctly"with my camera, I began to fully realize these teachings. My camera is a machine and can only grasp light that has bounced off of objects, what I see is processed by my mind and effectively is colored by the whole of my experience. What each one of us sees is also affected in the same way. If you stood before the Taj last night at dusk, you may not have seen the bright white marble turn to pink in a foggy luminous haze, as the cool evening breeze passed, that was my experience, and mine alone.
"I think Rambo here needs to calm down" Bodhi mentioned, referring to a rather coarse waiter who slammed plates and bottles of soda down on the table. "You have no idea of the burden he's carrying" the Lama said. He then slipped into a state of meditation, the waiter passed, "He is in so much pain, physical pain, in his lower back, I could feel it." The judgement that we have for one another is based on the fallacy that we all experience the exact same thing, that reality lies outside of ourselves, all of this is an illusion. When we understand that everyone acts based on their experience of life, how could we ever judge or be angry at someone again? If someone is behaving poorly, we should see that this is a result of some inner pain, some toxic waste that clouds their judgement and pervades their existence. With this world view all we can have is compassion.
Since my interaction with my friends in Bodhgaya, I've realized that mindfulness of feelings is important to have at all times. Its been helping me with deal with con-artists in Delhi, the family of 5 who inconsiderately talked for the first 10 hours of our 17 hour train ride, and most recently, the Indian anchorman who put me on TV and wanted me to lie, by saying that it was too hot to enjoy the Taj. When we practice mindfulness at all times there is nothing you can be but gentle, because you realize to hurt others is to hurt yourself. Getting to the point where we can be present at all times is quite another issue an takes much time an effort, but I suppose there is no time to lose, so its best to start now.
As my trip draws to a close I'm thankful for all that I've learned, and all who have taught me. From the teachers and students, to the cab drivers and con-men, to the rocks and the trees. This moment is my perfect teacher.
