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Rude Awakenings - Forest Sangha Publications

Rude Awakenings - Forest Sangha Publications

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^0 L E AV I N G H O M E 06mother: she was probably married off when she was young for dynasticreasons, then became pregnant and gave birth in a forest. The legendsweave poetic fancies around it, but it must have been tough—at any rate,she died a week later. Then my thoughts wandered to my own mother,who was quite frail and poorly when I left Britain: did she know what shewas letting herself in for when she had me? It was still difficult for her toacknowledge that I was a Buddhist monk—a bit like one of the familygoing nuts or becoming a junkie. And what good could what I was doingwith my life do for her? Things weren’t clicking.Meanwhile, modern Nepal was too involved with getting on its feetto be supporting inner tranquillity. Money needs to be made, and thatmeans servicing tour parties. Business was hardly booming in the snackbar by the lodging where the afternoon’s heat confined me, but theradios certainly were. I tried a couple of times to get whoever was lodgingin the room beneath us to turn the racket down so that I could sitpeacefully in my room in the hot afternoon. Inner mutterings about“this being a holy place” and “why don’t people meditate” and “seriouspilgrims (like me)” got me pacing up and down the room. Then Istopped and sat down with my squalling and took it into my heart.“When you go to practise in the place of the Buddha, you must notfind fault with anyone; if you find fault, it is because you have notmade peace with the world. If you have not made peace with theworld, it is because you have not made peace in your heart.” MasterHua, a Chinese Buddhist master who was visiting Amaravati a monthbefore the pilgrimage began, had come out with that comment whenaddressing the assembled <strong>Sangha</strong>. It appeared as a general exhortationdirected to nobody in particular, but it stuck in my mind like an arrowin a target, and now the recognition shivered in my mind. And as theradio jangled and blared and the wave of irritation collapsed, I rememberedBernie.Twenty years ago, Bernie in the room next to mine at Warwick Universitywas devotedly applying himself to his study of economics, while5 1

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