The Buddhist Shindig

So, after getting momentarily lost in redneck country, I drive up the dirt road to the Buddhist outpost. I grew up in "these here parts", and as I pass pickup trucks driven by men in baseball caps I can only imagine the vicious hissing gossip that goes on here concerning the Asians who drive down this remote country road and the colorful ornate little buildings that seem so alien on the plain midwestern landscape.

Fifteen minutes early, I sit in my car in the parking lot, fiddle around for a while and finally get out and ask a caucasion woman if I am going toward the right building. She nods and smiles, but doesn't speak. I have decided that I will do my best to blend in and not make it obvious that this is my "first time". I step into the entry way and see a few people talking quietly in the main room inside. I take off my shoes, open the screen patio door and enter the tiny room where red cushions topped with folded blue towels dot the floor. I imagine myself noisily tripping and falling headlong into the room (are there any Buddhist comics in existence?). I nervously anticipate the reverence and ceremony that I will have to mimic. This is demanding. Whew! The few Asians in the room politely ignore me, let me find my own way, and I nonchalantly move toward the back, try and find my place in the room. I size up about five folding chairs in the back of the room and the towel/cushion combos in front. I think they expect this white woman to need a folding chair, because when they saw me coming they started busily unfolding them. I see another white woman sit down on a cushion and I slide in next to her, removing the blue bathroom towel with the same subtle movement as the Asian man in the back row. I don't speak, just nod and smile. So far so good.

Things start to get a little complicated when I notice that everyone has draped their towel over their lap. I try to observe their posture, the position of their butts on the cushions. I probably shouldn't be looking at their butts. I try to inconspicuously unfold my towel and cover my lap with it. Are we concerned here with covering our crotches? Our feet? Is is for keeping warm? Suddenly everyone is standing, so I jump up, my towel falling to the floor. I find myself bowing, my hands together in front of my chest, when the main event, a Theravadin Buddhist nun from Burma, enters the room.

She is beautiful! Tiny and young, with a shaved head and brown robes, Benetton would love to claim her, capitalize on her.



She is renowned for her teachings on the Abhidhamma, which turns out to be the philosophical psychology of Buddhism. This is a complex teaching, so maybe it wasn't the best time for me to join a group of practicing Buddhists. But I did leave with a new determination to not kill. Anything. Even the fucking roly bugs in the bathroom. Holy shit! Avoid those four woeful states! And I am trying to see "bad" experiences in a new light (for instance the "Paco debacle" (that has a certain ring, eh?). If I were a Buddhist I would be certain that some bad karma in a past life had caused that incident. I would accept it and practice living a life that would prevent more bad karma from building and ripening. Buddhism does keep one from becoming a victim, doesn't it?