A walk in the park

The Buddha, in spite his recent illness, powered up to get some fresh air and do some exercise a few days ago. He called me along to go for a walk in the park and I knew, that although he was the one with the splitting migraines, dizziness, fevers and pain, I would be the one having a tough time catching up....

...which really is what happened. I'm still aching 2 days later!

As we set off on the track, he reminded me, "Take care of your knees, okay, Paris. Remember, you're an 85-year-old woman" and would, in all his alertness, check every few minutes if I was doing okay, if my legs were hurting, or if I wanted to stop. He even held on to my arm to keep me steady and slow as we trip-trapped across that horrible, rickety, scary suspension bridge in the middle of the park.

I was all gung ho as we started off - I thought we would only do one round of the park, but the Buddhas, with their endless store of energy, never tire, and we would end up doing 3 big hilly rounds and one small, flat round. I'd never done so much exercise in the last 2 years, as I did in those few hours.

It isn't simply a walk in the park, of course. It never is "simply anything" when you're out with the Buddhas. Every step turned into a little teaching. For a whole two hours, I had Rinpoche all to myself and as I harrassed him to death about questions, he put a whole lot of everything into perspective for me.

I bitched to him about people who were driving me nuts, wondered aloud about all the people who currently hate me, talked about all the people I loved in the centre, gossiped and gave him new news, and told him all about my own neurosis.

Rinpoche hollered mantras at the monkeys, gave me profound teachings about what it means to give offerings, explained the tricky inner workings of the mind and its sneaky manipulations, reassured me that no, not everyone hates me in the centre, and gave me a heads up on what it could mean to take on ordination vows as a nun in future.

What constantly surprises me (although by now it really shouldn't anymore) is just how eternally patient Rinpoche is with all of us.... well, with me anyway. He listens to all I have to say, no matter how trivial or tormented I may sound, and responds just as you never expect him to. When you think you've just said something trite, he turns it into a teaching or he points it back at you, to point out a characteristic within the way you think, or act. When you think you've just proclaimed something terribly profound and meaningful, he turns to you with a big laugh and diffuses all seriousness.

I decided, as a way to preempt the shit hitting the fan, to just open up and let all the crap hang out; I told him all of what I'd been struggling with myself most of late. I figured if this was a time to have my weaknesses pointed out so I could just get over myself already and do something about it, it was now.

It'd been really hugely bothering me how I seemed to be totally addicted to complaining. As far as pissing and moaning goes, I am the queen of. I told him (confessed!) how I knew I seemed to be a chronic complainer and notorious gossip and braced myself for a good old shouting at.

But the Buddhas shall always surprise you. Rinpoche even turned that, my gossip addiction, into a teaching, not just for me, but for the other person who had been called along for the walk and who, for the moment, was not in the Three Jewels' good books for recent bad behaviour and manipulative action.

He gave a very detailed, lengthy teaching of the inner workings of the mind, and the many tricky motivations that come along with different types of complaints. He explained what it meant to actually complain, described the different levels of complaining and the multiple (often manipulative) motivations that come along with it, and how we can overcome it.

Then he told me, "Yes, you do complain a lot, BUT you have to look at the content of what you complain about." He pointed out to me that when I complain about people, it is to figure out what is wrong with them because I want to fix things and figure out how help them.

I thought he gave me too much credit. I know I'm a nasty little gossip and I just totally relish in bitching, so why was Rinpoche turning it into something almost like a virtue? I said, "But but but, no, I think I'm just being a bitch."

He said, "Yes, you are a bitch! But you're a bitch with a halo." (I just don't get it! How is it that I never seem to do anything wrong?)

My legs were feeling pretty shot by then, not because of my knee injury but because I was so completely out of shape. Rinpoche was still bounding along like he did this every day. I was wondering how it was that he managed that (and give Dharma teachings, and joke with me and look out for me when I'm crossing that bridge and ask me questions) when he was still recovering from his illness, and I was healthy as a horse.

The thing is though, you would never know even if he was feeling like death because he would never show you how tired or ill he was feeling. If it benefits you that he stay alert, look well and traipse around a hill like a marathon walker he would do it, even if he was being chewed up by a migraine the size of the hill itself.

We finished walking about 9, before we headed off back home and got ready for dinner and another whole night of fun and games. The evening had only just begun!