SHORT STORIES AND PARABLES
mostly from "Dharma Diary -- Reflections On The Path," by David Lourie.

HOW I LEARNED THE BUDDHA'S 2ND NOBLE TRUTH
(‘Our suffering is caused by our cravings and aversions)

I was twelve years old the first time life taught me the Second Noble Truth. My parents had taken me shopping, and I saw a bicycle in a store window that looked so fantastic it took my breath away. My step-father saw my reaction, and he remarked, "Your old rust-heap used to looked that good!"

But that wasn't true -- nothing I had ever seen had ever looked that good. It was sleek and racy, unlike my old heap, and it was named after an Olympic champion. I wanted that bicycle more than I had ever wanted anything.

Soon I could think of nothing else, and I could not contemplate living without it.

So I got a second job after school, but I kept that a secret. I worked hard and saved everything I earned, and each day on the way home I would stop by the bicycle shop and visit the object of my desire. The bicycle provided me with many glorifying fantasies, and soon my entire future and even my very identity became designed around it.

One day when I had saved almost enough money I went for my usual visit, but the bicycle was gone. The shopkeeper said a man had come in that morning and bought it for his son. Another one could not be ordered because the model had been discontinued.

My world was shattered. My grief overwhelmed me. I suffered every waking hour, day after agonising day, week after endless week. My future had been ruined.

I suffered right up until Christmas morning, when there beneath the Christmas tree was that bicycle.

Suddenly it seemed that all my suffering had been worth it. Ecstatic beyond words, I took the bicycle for a ride.

But all too quickly I realized this bike was poorly designed. It did not ride as well as my old one. That was obviously why the model had been discontinued. I felt betrayed, crushed and defeated. I wondered, bitterly, if there really was a loving God.

But as soon as I got home my bitterness was replaced by horror. My step-father had a new regime: "Now that you don't need that secret job any more, you can put your time into some chores around here. And I want that bike kept polished!"

From that time on, every Sunday my suffering unfolded like clockwork. While my friends were heading off to the beach I would have to get out that bike and spend an excruciating stretch of time waxing and polishing it, even though my old bike was the one I rode every day.

These tedious sessions gave me time to reflect, and I realized that if I had not wanted that bike quite so much, life would definitely be more to my liking now.

In all I endured two years of this Sunday drudge before I felt I could unload the bike onto my cousin without causing any offence. I got rid of the thing without even trying to sell it.

My stepfather was quite amused by what I had put myself through. He was like Yama, Lord of the Hell Realm, holding out a mirror to his guests to indicate, "Look what you have created: your own cravings and aversions have put you here." -- David Lourie

* Buddhism -- A Concise Introduction

* * * *

PERCEPTIONS ARE US

With mindfulness it's easy to see how every perception or thought I have defines who I am. What I see is a product of what I am able or inclined to see. What I say only describes my own mentality, nothing else. Indeed, what else could I possibly undertake to describe other than my own perceptions?

In keeping with this idea, I have observed that everyone's judgments and opinions reveal more about themselves than anyone else. It's uncanny how often people describe themselves when speaking of others.

A few years ago I met two strangers in a motel sauna, and we soon fell into a conversation about the desk clerk. The first man said, "Did you see how slow this guy is? I'm glad he's not on my payroll!"

The second man replied, "Slow I could take, but his smiling all the time would drive me nuts!"

"Well, at least he's mellow,"I offered, having observed this man to be unusually content, as if he were at peace with himself..

Further conversation in the sauna revealed that the first man had lost his own business, and was now undergoing stress management therapy. The second man had been unemployed for some time, then divorced, and was in an unhappy period of his life.

As for myself, I was happily engaged in a creative project at the time, and to my perception the man in question was simply enjoying his life. -- David Lourie

* Buddhism -- A Concise Introduction

THE SONG, NOT THE SINGER

At university my room mate and I both suffered from anxiety and poor sleeping. One evening we attended a lecture by a Tibetan monk.

Afterwards my friend seemed extremely impressed with the monk: "I'd love to be more that way myself. I'll always remember that man!"

I was feeling inspired by the monk's ideas, which had just expanded my view of life. "I don't think I'll ever be the same," I said.

Years later we met again. My friend still slept badly, and he asked me "Do you?" "No," I said, "my life has changed. I think it helps that I have more of a Buddhist attitude now."

"Oh, I've always remembered that monk," my friend said. "So he impressed you, too?"

"I don't really remember the monk himself," I replied, "but I've been practicing his methods."

* Buddhism -- A Concise Introduction

* * * *

NEW BEGINNINGS

By living in the present moment instead of reviewing the past or designing the future, I have learned to maintain (most of the time) a positive emotional environment despite annoyances that occur. And when things do go wrong, distress is usually short-lived, as I’m now able to begin afresh by creating a new attitude. The idea of new beginnings is important for living in the moment.

To achieve this most rudimentary mental control, which is the opposite of automatic reactive behaviour, the Buddha admonished his disciples to "always watch the mind, tame the mind, then tame it again and again."

* * * *

In a tennis tournament, three players handled a similar problem in different ways.

The first player let a serve go which should have been called long, but it wasn't. Caught up in the anger and frustration of losing an important point unfairly, he lost concentration and consequently lost the next point as well.

The second player had a bad call in her favour which gave her match-point. She suddenly thought how close she was to winning -- but how unsatisfying it would be to win on a wrong call. Caught up in thoughts of the future, she lost concentration in the moment and promptly lost her match-point advantage.

The third player also received a wrong call, but she thought, "That's history, now concentrate on this rally." She played the next point in the moment and won it. -- David Lourie

* Buddhism -- A Concise Introduction

* * * *

ALL THE GOOD THINGS
by Sister Helen P Mrosia
Here is a very moving story by a Christian Sister, which illustrates how developing an awareness of life’s impermanence can lead us to live better quality lives in the present.

He was in the first third grade class I taught at Saint Mary's School in Morris, Minnesota. All 34 of my students were dear to me, but Mark Eklund was one in a million. Very neat in appearance, but had that happy-to-be-alive attitude that made even his occasional mischievousness delightful.

Mark talked incessantly. I had to remind him again and again that talking without permission was not acceptable. What impressed me so much, though, was his sincere response every time I had to correct him for misbehaving - "Thank you for correcting me, Sister!" I didn't know what to make of it at first, but before long I became accustomed to hearing it many times a day.

One morning my patience was growing thin when Mark talked once too often, and then I made a novice-teacher's mistake. I looked at him and said, "If you say one more word, I am going to tape your mouth shut!"

It wasn't ten seconds later when Chuck blurted out, "Mark is talking again." I hadn't asked any of the students to help me watch Mark, but since I had stated the punishment in front of the class, I had to act on it.

I remember the scene as if it had occurred this morning. I walked to my desk, very deliberately opened my drawer and took out a roll of masking tape. Without saying a word, I proceeded to Mark's desk, tore off two pieces of tape and made a big X with them over his mouth. I then returned to the front of the room. As I glanced at Mark to see how he was doing he winked at me. That did it! I started laughing. The class cheered as I walked back to Mark's desk, removed the tape and shrugged my shoulders. His first words were, "Thank you for correcting me, Sister."

At the end of the year I was asked to teach junior-high math. The years flew by, and before I knew it Mark was in my classroom again. He was more handsome than ever and just as polite. Since he had to listen carefully to my instructions in the "new math," he did not talk as much in ninth grade as he had in the third.

One Friday, things just didn't feel right. We had worked hard on a new concept all week, and I sensed that the students were frowning, frustrated with themselves - and edgy with one another. I had to stop this crankiness before it got out of hand. So I asked them to list the names of the other students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving a space between each name. Then I told them to think of the nicest
thing they could say about each of their classmates and write it down.

It took the remainder of the class period to finish the assignment, and as the students left the room, each one handed me the papers. Charlie smiled. Marked said, "Thank you for teaching me, Sister. Have a good weekend."

That Saturday, I wrote down the name of each student on a separate sheet of paper, and I listed what everyone else had said about that individual. On Monday I gave each student his or her list. Before long, the entire class was smiling. "Really?" I heard whispered. "I never knew that meant anything to anyone!" "I didn't know others liked me so much!"

No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. I never knew if they discussed them after class or with their parents, but it didn't matter. The exercise had accomplished its purpose. The students were happy with themselves and one another again.

That group of students moved on. Several years later, after I returned from vacation, my parents met me at the airport. As we were driving home, Mother asked me the usual questions about the trip - the weather, my experiences in general. There was a light lull in the conversation.

Mother gave Dad a side-ways glance and simply says, "Dad?" My father cleared his throat as he usually did before something important. "The Eklunds called last night," he began. "Really?" I said. "I haven't heard from them in years. I wonder how Mark is."

Dad responded quietly. "Mark was killed in Vietnam," he said. "The funeral is tomorrow, and his parents would like it if you could attend." To this day II can still point to the exact spot on I-494 where Dad told me about Mark.

I had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before. Mark looked so handsome, so mature. All I could think at that moment was, Mark, I would give all the masking tape in the world if only you would talk to me.

The church was packed with Mark's friends. Chuck's sister sang "The Battle Hymn of the Republic." Why did it have to rain on the day of the funeral? It was difficult enough at the graveside. The pastor said the usual prayers, and the bugler played taps. One by one those who loved Mark took a last walk by the coffin and sprinkled it with holy water.

I was the last one to bless the coffin. As I stood there, one of the soldiers who had acted as pallbearer came up to me. "Were you Mark's math teacher?" he asked. I nodded as I continued to stare at the coffin. "Mark talked about you a lot," he said.

After the funeral, most of Mark's former classmates headed to Chucks farmhouse for lunch. Mark's mother and father were there, obviously waiting for me. "We want to show you something," his father said, taking a wallet out of his pocket. "They found this on Mark when he was killed. We thought you might recognise it."

Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn pieces of notebook paper that had obviously been taped, folded and refolded many times. I knew without looking that the papers were the ones on which I had listed all the good things each of Mark's classmates had said about him. "Thank you so much for doing that" Mark's mother said. "As you can see, Mark treasured it."

Mark's classmates started to gather around us. Charlie smiled rather sheepishly and said, "I still have my list. It's in the top drawer of my desk at home." Chuck's wife said, "Chuck asked me to put this in our wedding album." "I have mine too," Marilyn said. "It's in my diary." Then Vicki, another classmate, reached into her pocketbook, took out her wallet and showed her worn and frazzled list to the group. "I carry this with me at all times," Vicki said without batting an eyelash. "I think we all saved our lists."

That's when I finally sat down and cried. I cried for Mark and for all his friends who would never see him again. by Sister Helen P. Mrosia

The purpose of this letter, is to encourage everyone to compliment the people you love and care about. We often tend to forget the importance of showing our affections and love. Sometimes the smallest of things, could mean the most to another. I am asking you, to please
send this letter around and spread the message and encouragement, to express your love and caring by complimenting and being open with communication. The density of people in society, is so thick, that we forget that life will end one day. And we don't know when that one day will be. So please, I beg of you, to tell the people you love and care for, that they are special and important. Tell them, before it is too late.

I leave these messages with you and ask you to continue to spread
the message to everyone you know.

Life is lived in the present.
Yesterday has gone.
Tomorrow is yet to be.
Today is the miracle. :)

* Buddhism -- A Concise Introduction

CREATING

Over the years I have noticed that whenever I interact with people, whatever qualities I see in them are the qualities I draw out in them. Knowing this makes me mindful.

While shopping I met a friend who told me, "I think this place is overpriced. And guess what -- yesterday I saw the grocer driving a new sports car!"

"Yes, but I saw him giving free fruit to some homeless kids," I said. "I think he's okay."

When my friend’s goods were weighed, he questioned the price on many of the items. The shopkeeper was courteous, but he did not offer my friend the free piece of fruit that he often gives his customers.

Then while my goods were being weighed, I chatted to the grocer about the homeless kids. He was friendly, and as I left he put two free pieces of fruit into my bag. -- David Lourie

* Buddhism -- A Concise Introduction

COOLNESS

I have come to understand the meaning of "coolness" in Buddhist terms. A person is `cool' when he or she is free from pressing desires (grasping) which always produce dissonant emotions (uncoolness).

An uncool person squirms with needs, waiting for the next coffee or cigarette or chance to break into the conversation, and thus is a state called "senseless agitation." On the other hand, a cool person is free of cravings and repulsions, and is thus in an empowered state of equanimity.

Being cool and detached is not being cold and uncaring. I've noticed that when I'm feeling cool and requiring nothing from the situation, it seems to clarify my thoughts, and in this state I tend to respond to other people’s agendas more, instead of my head being full of my own agenda. Coolness means more compassion and less self-ness – the opposite of being heated.

Interestingly, the word "nirvana" is often translated as "fully blown out," in reference to the flames of desire. --- David Lourie

* Buddhism -- A Concise Introduction

PERSPECTIVE

As Sogyal Rinpoche says (but more eloquently), an awareness of one's own mortality brings renewed spirit and freedom to daily life.

Whenever I bring my own death to mind it has an immediate calming effect, and pressing concerns seem less vexing.

Another powerful idea to trigger a healthier perspective is thinking to myself, "Be at peace for the grand journey – just contribute what you can."

In thinking such thoughts, my grasping diminishes, the urgency of my day softens, patience arises and I remember my true values.

UNFOLDING

By merely listening to others, their wisdom cannot be gained, it can merely be listened to. Buddha showed us the path to liberation, and then said we must not sit there gazing at it, but rather we must get up and walk it. Ideas must be acted upon, not merely reflected upon.

I can't build muscles by watching someone else exercise, no matter how thorough my observations might be. And our spiritual condition can only unfold through our own conduct, contemplation, compassion and meditation, as opposed to intellectually understanding the wisdom of the teachings.

In Buddha's words: "Do not be led by reports, or tradition, or hearsay. Be not led by the authority of religious texts, nor by mere logic or inference, nor by considering appearances, nor by the delight in speculative opinions, nor by seeming possibilities, nor by the idea that ‘this is our teacher'. But when you know for yourselves that certain things are unwholesome and wrong and bad, then give them up. . . And when you know for yourselves that certain things are wholesome and good, then accept them and follow them."

* Buddhism -- A Concise Introduction

THE SONG, NOT THE SINGER

At university my room mate and I both suffered from anxiety and poor sleeping. One evening we attended a lecture by a Tibetan monk. Afterwards my friend seemed extremely impressed with the monk: "I'd love to be more that way myself. I'll always remember that man!"

I was feeling inspired by the monk's ideas, which had just expanded my view of life. "I don't think I'll ever be the same," I said.

Years later we met again. My friend still slept badly, and he asked me "Do you?" "No," I said, "my life has changed. I think it helps that I have more of a Buddhist attitude now."

"Oh, I've always remembered that monk," my friend said. "So he impressed you, too?"

"I don't really remember the monk himself," I replied, "but I've been practicing his methods."

* Buddhism -- A Concise Introduction

Joshua was a boy who loved exploring. His explorations would take him under bushes, shrubs, even on the ground, over blades of grass. What in the world could he be looking for?

Bugs! All kinds of bugs. Bugs with long antennae, prickly legs, bright colored shells, mean looking

pinchers, flapping wings, bent jumping legs....

Joshua found brown bugs in the dirt, green bugs in the leaves, black bugs in the shadows. Joshua knew that the world of bugs held many secrets. And he loved to discover them, one by one.

Bugs in the area knew that sooner or later, Joshua would find them. But, they didn’t mind, because Joshua never hurt them. He would just crawl very close to the ground, almost like a dog sniffing for a clue. When he would find one of those marvelous bugs, he would scoop them up, and hold them near his nose, so he could see them better.

"Hello" Joshua said to the Ladybug he had just found. "You certainly are a big, round bug with a shiny coat of red. And spots too! I think I’ll name you Shelly, the Ladybug." Then Shelly the Ladybug would stretch her wings and fly her big round body off towards the nearest flower.

"My you make such wonderful sounds", he said to a cricket. "Your name will be Blacky though, because of your lovely black color". And with a graceful hoppity, hop, the cricket disappeared into the shadows.

One day, Joshua turned over a rock, and found the meanest, spikiest, slimiest looking bug he had ever seen. This was the first bug Joshua had ever just wanted to SQUASH under his foot, it was so horrible! It’s head was two bug-eyes, with pincher fangs, (dripping poison probably), and a thorny shell too prickly to touch. Worse still, it had a long, whip-like tail with a stinger to sting you with. No, Joshua didn’t like the looks of this bug. He let the rock down with a hard thud, right on top of it, and ran off a distance behind the trees, hiding from this terrible....THING!

Still, his curiosity was too strong. He wanted to see if the bug was really squashed. He went back to the rock, and carefully lifted it up. The bug was squashed all right, but it was still alive! It’s thorns were all broken, and it’s stinger was smashed. It hobbled around, and finally flipped upside down, it’s thin legs waving, trying to turn itself over.

That’s when Joshua sort of felt bad. It was a mean looking, nasty ole bug all right, but now, it was hurt, and it was Joshua’s fault.

He still didn’t like the bug, no, not at all...but he would help it turn over.

Joshua got a stick, and carefully slid it under one of the bug’s skinny little legs. It took a couple of trys, but, the ugly bug was finally back on it’s feet again.

Then, it swayed, and wobbled, and flipped again.

"Ugly ole bug. You just aren’t going to make it now, if I don’t help you", said Joshua. There was no way Joshua was going to touch the bug, but he got it to wrap it’s legs around the stick, -and - holding that stick as far out from him as he could, Joshua carried the ugly bug home. He put the bug in a box with some dirt, and a rock, and some leaves.

The bug finally got well enough to walk on it’s own. It was a funny bug. It twirled itself around and around in the dirt, making beautiful circles in the sand until it was half buried. It would stay half buried for a very long time, and then come out, and munch on leaves. The ugly bug also enjoyed pushing the dirt into small little hills, and climbing on top of the hills, to make more circles.

Joshua thought this was all very funny, and he grew to like watching the bug. It wasn’t a bug he wanted to touch, of course, but...it didn’t seem so scary looking now.

It didn’t even seem ugly, anymore.

Finally, the day came when Joshua knew he had to let the bug go back to it’s home in the wild. He took the box that had the bug in it out to the field where he had found it. He tipped the box, and the bug scuttled out. It found a rock, and darted under it quickly, as if it were terribly frightened.

"Look at you, silly bug - such a ferocious looking monster, running scared like a flea! You’re funny! So I won’t call you the ugly bug anymore. I think I’ll call you the Butterbug, since that’s a silly, funny name, just like you."

And Joshua skipped off to the fields, in search of more bugs, happy indeed that he had been able to share some of this very special bug’s wonderful, and not-so-scary secrets. – Linda Fitzgerald

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