Careful study and focused prayer have been the ongoing habitual service of time spent within the walls of a particular sanctuary, a place that will forever hold trappings of unspoiled memories for me, a place unknown to the outside world tucked away at the end of a long, dirt trail lined with cabbage palms, large oak trees and tall pines under a hovering cloud of mystery.
Most of the property, still quite undeveloped, is consistent with the simple lifestyle purposely lived here. A sense of tranquility rises at every corner and spreads throughout the compound. It exudes a look of balance even in its unfinished state, this remarkable hidden gem removed from the neighboring town and tucked away in the hammocks.
Early in the morning the inside trails are lit by hanging lanterns that lead the way to the first open structure suited for prayer and meditation. Mats and pillows are placed with detailed thought for the old-timers who rise at 3:00 a.m. to begin their day.
For the monks who live here, hours spent in meditation and sacred readings are the beginnings of a well-prepared day. After morning meditation, tea is prepared for the rejuvenation of the mind and soul. Then time is devoted to exercise, to the Tibetan Rites. Afterwards, a bowl of rice—sometimes introduced with a seasonal food—is served.
Each person shares in the work of tending the garden by following the cues of mother nature. Pulling weeds from the stone paths and garden spots is done every day while admiring the blooming bougainvillea and azaleas that have been purposely planted.
Cleaning is a constant. There are bowls of water placed before each building or entranceway for washing feet and these, too, are cleaned many times throughout the day. Hallways are washed and swept in the sanctuaries and the library full of ancient books and old papers is kept dust-free. These details are an essential part of the monks’ lives.
All work is a joint effort by the inhabitants, all done without conversation, which is very different from the outside world where I live. How beneficial it could be if we also manufactured our own living arrangements to be as tidy, clean and simplistic as these individuals. They are deliberate and thoughtful in making things work for themselves, using a combination of teamwork that is critical to their unique roles. All of this and more is done without the crowning blow of the word “hurry.”
Early in my training with the monks, I had been given a job within the gardens of the monastery. Weeds were taking over the aisles where edible mushrooms were growing.
The soil of the pathway needed to be turned and cleaned. I was asked to spend time preparing the area. New compost had to be wheeled in and graded down so the dust would not fly up as one walked along the course.
I worked and worked as hard as I could, my only thought to please the monks so they could see what a great job I could do. This was a huge job and I wanted to be done by the end of the day. I failed to mention there were two mushroom beds, the same size, needing the same amount of attention. One of the resident monks volunteered to tackle one and work along beside me. A bit of ego worked its way into my thinking because I wanted to outperform him. I wanted worthy acknowledgment from my teacher.
After a few hours of intense sweating, my muscles were getting sore and a few bruises had appeared on my legs and arms. I looked over at the other monk to compare where we were in the scheme of things. There was no noticeable sign of progress coming from his side of the garden. In fact, this monk was sitting in the center of all his work area, meditating.
At that moment, my teacher passed by. I motioned for his attention to show off all the work I had finished in such a short period of time and to ask him if I should now help the other monk who was doing nothing but sitting on the ground. My teacher looked over my work, then looked over at the other monk’s work to see that an area of about a square foot had been weeded and leveled to perfection.
My contribution was lumpy, scattered and had no distinct line along the walkway. He looked at me and said, “To hurry is a deathblow to calmness and poise.” Then he walked away leaving me to ponder the message.
All I could think of during that one moment was that all of life outside the boundaries of the monks’ establishment worked feverishly under the guiding word of “hurry.” From our educational system, right on through to our religion, and then into our jobs. We are forced to fill our minds with rushing, and then forcing our children to learn the same bad habits. We are never taught the essential things in life, how to use our minds and senses to stop and think. We are taught to fill our heads with such a mass of facts and confounding reasoning that eventually causes a collapse in later stages of life.
As the monk walked away from me he stopped, turned back to look in my direction and said, “Worry is absolute uselessness.” What he was telling me was if I stood there trying to reason with what just took place and then worry that I had failed in my attempt to please him then I was strangling and choking the life out of my Zen. He was teaching me that my job was not to please him but rather to be mindful of each step I encountered and lighten my load by simply meditating and praying along the way.
He then asked me to sit with him in a deeper conversation about what had happened. “Let us look into the matter deeper,” he said. “Within a short period of time, your mind allowed the flesh to convince you of several signs of evidence that display a weakness in the balance of your life. The things are presented to you in order that you may meet them head-on and rise above them with Divine intervention to help you smooth the road ahead of you and adjust the things that are usually out of your control.
“These things are not pointed out to you so that the teaching in itself will manifest yet another type of imbalance filling you with anxiety or frustration. This is why it is important to take every task before you and accept it into deep meditation first. The monk given the physical job of hauling buckets of dirt to this garden and the physical strain of pulling weeds, packing the path and perfecting his work is 87 years old. Your mind was set on approval from me. Never giving thought to his aged weakness. You hurried through the work with the thought of beating him to the finish line when in fact you were dismantling the lines of perfection without even knowing it. Your heart was hungry for the reward of being first even when there was no race. At the end of the job, you looked to him with disbelief, judging him because he was not finished and he was sitting in meditation. Did you judge him for being lazy, for being weak? He stopped in prayer to ask for strength and direction to do the best he could. He needed help. He realized the age of his body might prohibit his doing certain areas of the job but with Divine Grace, he could move through even if at a snail’s pace. He prayed for love to be planted firmly in his thinking and in his work so that his flesh would have no part in it. The job would be finished. However, charity on your part would have helped him meet the weak spots and his knowledge of building character and nobleness would have helped you with yours.
“The mind and the human body are made up of many imperfections that cause instability. It is with much discipline and constant training of the mind that puts us on the tightrope daily to pray for balance. The job was not to take your task and run with it. It was not given to you in order to watch your neighbor do little work. It was presented to you to weed your own garden without flaws being harbored in the mind. By asking for help, by giving help out of love for your fellow traveler, the job would not have been a duty, but instead a perfect gift from the heart. The physical work was only a by-product of the day.”
I refused to let myself think I had failed miserably. Instead, I accepted my slashing and learned from the experience. I did not walk away angry with myself that I had failed to see the purpose of this test. I thanked my teacher and went back to the garden to pray.
Nowhere on earth have I ever experienced such appreciation for life and nature as I have had collaborating with these integrity-driven monks. Their trained minds, their commitment to excellence, and their dedication to a right life are beyond the measure of any other religion training that I have ever witnessed.
~DK