Apr
14
More Adventures Of A Buddhist Monk And Nun (part 1 Of 4)
April 14, 2008 | Leave a Comment
Just when Janet thought that she had cheated death by taking the village cure for typhoid fever, (which worked), death reminded her who was boss out here in the jungles of 1981 Thailand when “visitors” began to frequent her kuti (hut). The deadly snakes crawled into the upper interior roof rafters, remaining hidden until one day she noticed one of them move not far from her head. Then it was a scramble to get out of the hut and holler for help. After a few of these terrifying episodes with monks and nuns racing to her rescue, some villagers kindly removed the snakes from her kuti and trimmed the surrounding trees so the snakes could no longer drop onto her roof.
Occasionally, at night, a King Cobra would find its way into the outhouse (surprise!) and the ability to grow eyes in the back of our heads was the only thing that kept us alive at times. Janet had other interesting adventures as well, including losing a lot of weight, which she couldn’t afford to lose. Eventually, she was able to stomach a little of the village food and began to feel better, even though when she returned to the States, she only weighed in at 119 pounds, the lightest she had weighed since high school. Her two companion nuns were from China and the UK. The Chinese nun was robust and full of energy, but the British nun, who had been in Thailand for some time, was very thin and sickly. When she finally did return to England, it was discovered that she was harboring a number of serious diseases, including malaria. The British are tough people!
Janet was never bitten by a snake, or a scorpion for that matter, but I, unfortunately, wasn’t that lucky! We walked barefoot mostly, occasionally wearing flip-flops. The rules stated that we never wore sandals inside structures, or on our alms rounds into the villages (making the rough gravel roads an interesting study in pain). One early morning, in the shadowy darkness just before the beginnings of dawn, I was doing some walking meditation in the back of the sala (meditation hall) when I felt as if I had stepped on a hot needle! I had no doubt that a snake had crawled into the sala and nailed me.
It was still pitch-black outside with only dim candles lighting the hall, and I couldn’t see a thing, so I scrambled over to my lantern sitting on the floor, hurriedly lit it, and frantically looked around hoping that the snake had not crawled off so that I could identify it. The pain was unbelievable.
Then I saw it, a little brown rascal sitting in the middle of the floor, and it wasn’t a snake at all – “only” a scorpion, standing its ground in an attack posture, glaring at me, with its deadly tail arched over its head waiting for me to try and step on it again. Not in this lifetime!
While it was intently watching me, a senior monk waived his hand to distract the little tyrant, and as the scorpion rotated to face his new victim, the monk slowly reached behind with his other hand, grabbing it by its stinger and rendering it harmless.
After he tossed it out into the forest where it belonged, I went back to my walking meditation with a new object to contemplate – pain – which was now the familiar combination of severe stinging and intense pins with pins and needles running up and down my leg!
All monks and nuns had duties at the wat, and I was no exception. I was given the traditional newcomer’s task of ringing the large bell every morning at three a.m. to wake the community. This is a very responsible duty because the entire community counted on the bell ringer to begin the day, and therefore the poor bell ringer had to make sure he woke up before everybody else. I anticipated no problems, however, and promised myself to ring the bell without fail.
The bell was located beside the sala on a raised platform, with the cremation pit flanking it. This was perfect for a new monk – I could ring the bell and watch glowing skulls at the same time, alone, out there in the middle of the night at 3 a.m.
While walking back to my hut that afternoon after being given my new responsibility, I noticed that, indeed, the leaves do pile up this time of year. The path was almost covered. I was tired, however, and decided to sweep the long path the next afternoon, in spite of a subtle nagging in my heart telling me to do it now – that silent voice I was not yet completely in touch with.
E. Raymond Rock of Fort Myers, Florida is cofounder and principal teacher at the Southwest Florida Insight Center, http://www.SouthwestFloridaInsightCenter.com His twenty-eight years of meditation experience has taken him across four continents, including two stopovers in Thailand where he practiced in the remote northeast forests as an ordained Theravada Buddhist monk. His book, A Year to Enlightenment (Career Press/New Page Books) is now available at major bookstores and online retailers. Visit http://www.AYearToEnlightenment.com
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