Plastic Prayers

This is not a secret that we learn from each other but if it comes to my students I always feel a certain unease knowing how much I enjoy learning in the classes I actually teach.

I am paid for teaching not learning after all, right?

I meet interesting people in my writing classes, they all are called my students.  They share with me their lives, their passions, their sorrows, and sometimes their most intimate secrets and they always, always, always teach me something new.

Last semester, a question of ones identity was raised during a writing assignment titled “Journeys” and inevitably a question of higher power or god became a part of the preceding discussion.

As we struggled to find answers one of my students, David asked why we have to do it.

“What do you mean?” I didn’t understand his reservations.

“I mean,” he said after a moment of hesitation, “Why do we have to continuously ask questions that don’t have any answers?  What’s the point?  Who cares if God exists or not?  Would you live your life in a different way if you knew the answer?  I wouldn’t.”

“What do you propose, David?”  I asked mechanically, feeling myself being stretched beyond my expectation.

“Just be,”  he said.  “Just live. Just be your best and enjoy life.”

When I teach I feel like a child in a candy store.  So much to see!  So much to taste!

And then I ask myself the same questions: Is it wrong for me to learn from my students?  Is is wrong to look forward to the new class of students with the highest anticipation knowing that our exchange will teach me something new?

Later on, David had sent me his interpretation of the “journey/life.”  This is the image you see above in this post. Make sure to click on the image to enlarge it and to see the rich fabric of the “journey/life” as seen by David.

I became very excited seeing the hands holding praying beads.  I have immediately imagined a life of a monk who devoted his life to meditation.  I could see him walking slowly through a zen garden contemplating his breath and at the same time focusing on the rhythm of his steps.

Many questions, that sprouted from the imagined monk, came to my mind and I have contacted David.

“My goodness, I love the piece!”  I couldn’t hold back my excitement.

“Can you tell me something about the person on the picture?  Is this a monk?”  I asked with the highest hopes.

“This is a manikin,”  David answered.

“No, no, no!”  A silent yet loud scream invaded my head.

“I wanted something beautiful, alive, perhaps romantic!”  I wanted to say but didn’t.

“The title is Plastic Prayers,”  he added. I am still dwelling on David’s interpretation of the journey we call life as I read the quote he forwarded to me along with the Plastic Prayers.

Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able?

Then he is not omnipotent.

Is he able, but not willing?

Then he is malevolent.

Is he both able and willing?

Then whence cometh evil?

Is he neither able nor willing?

Then why call him God?

–Epicurus

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My house of many Buddhas

A friend of mine asked me a questions: What is Buddhism in your life?

At first I was very happy to have the opportunity to think about it and to share my conclusions with someone else.  After all, Buddhism is my chosen way of living.

Starting with home: I live in a house of many Buddhas.  Some of them are from China, some are from Thailand, and some are from India.

The smallest one is 1/2 inch tall, the biggest one is almost 4 feet tall.  They are made of silver, jade, marble, wood, ceramic, and plastic.  I have them in every room of my house, including the kitchen.

Although I teach all the major religions of the world in my “Fundamentals of Spiritual Awareness” course at Howard Community College, Buddhism is my favorite. The Wise Heart by Jack Kornfield — a primer on Buddhist psychology — is my favorite textbook .  I encourage my students to meditate on daily basis. Here is what I have told them since I started teaching the class in 2006:  If you have the time, sit 20 minutes a day.  If you don’t have the time, sit 20 minutes a day.

My personal meditation practice, which started when I was in high school, became my way of living, and over the years has overshadowed the (Judeo-Christian) religions of my family and my ancestors.

But back to my friend’s question: What role does Buddhism play in my life?

The more I think about it, the more confused I become.  I don’t know how to grasp the complexity of what I feel when I think about Buddhism. If I tried to put it into words, this is what I would say:  Buddhism is a point of stillness.  It is where I belong.  It is home.

By trying to answer my friend’s question I came to a conclusion that the answer doesn’t exist.  Buddhism is something that cannot be learned or understood with explanation.  It can be grasped only in living, in practice.

First you sit, my friend.  Sit 20 minutes a day if you have the time or sit 20 min a day if you don’t have the time.

Second, stop yourself from time to time during your day and see yourself living your life.

Be present with everything that forms the life around you.  Be aware of the sounds and voices around you and allow them to be the way they are.  Be aware of people and objects around you and allow them to be the way they are.

And the most difficult part of being, leave for last:  Be present with your thoughts, your emotions, your feelings and allow them to be the way they are.  Embrace yourself the way you are and become the witness of your own experience.

And then, you will be able to repeat after the Buddha:  I am.

And that’s all there is to Buddhism — to be.

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