Rude Awakenings - Forest Sangha Publications

^0 T H I R D M O O N 06filter like the one I had been carrying unused for Ajahn Sucitto for thepast two months, but thankfully he turned it down.A J A H N S U C I T T OChristmas Day—the time of the great gift. Overwhelmed by all thegenerosity, I wondered why it had taken us so long to get robbed andprovide an opportunity. A distinct lack of faith on our part. The robberyhad made us more fragile and open, and hence more capable ofliving as a samana should. My robes were complete again: VenerableNyaninda had given me a special Burmese sanghati made of hundredsof tiny patches. Now, in the place of the Buddha’s enlightenment, howcould one not go for alms? It would be a way of giving myself. Theroad outside the vihara was open and waiting; Bhante loaned me analms bowl.I unwound my bandages and let my patched-up feet be naked, withwhite bands showing where the straps of the sandals had screened themfrom the sun. My scarred skin was so white in the dust; I was too big,too special, too delicate for the raw gaze of the streets, where gnarledgrey-skinned women squatted and begged. I stood with lowered head afew metres away from fruit stalls or chai shops while the seconds beat inmy pulse. When I had counted to thirty, I could move on. Sometimesthe chink of a sugary snack, or the softer sound of a pastry hitting thebowl would let me off early. Occasionally a Westerner would give me acake or a banana with a smile. Then there would be coins—fifty paisapieces. When I got back to the gates of the vihara, I gave the old womenbeggars the money and some of the food; the rest I would give to thebhikkhus: my brothers in the holy life.On another day, I wandered on my alms round south through BodhGaya, slowly past the market stalls—nothing happening there—andalong the dung-strewn road out of the village. Somewhere I came acrossa settlement in the dust: dry mud-walled shelters crouching on the earth2 7 2