AKA
The Karma Project
In recent weeks, it seems as if a divine force has been persistently trying to teach me a lesson about generosity.
It seems as if everywhere I turn, someone is in need. For instance, one day, there was the lady at a fast food restaurant who had no cash when the credit card machine was broken. There were the various intersections where I noticed men holding signs that read “Will Work for Food.” There was the lady I wrote about with the duffel bag at the Port Authority who seemed too burdened to walk down a flight of steps. And there was the homeless guy with a cup who I passed just before noticing the lady with the duffel bags.
I did not help any of these people. I do not know why. In each case, I thought about helping, and then I neglected to do so.
Yesterday I traveled to New York City to do an interview for a show called “Joy in Our Town” that airs in New York and parts of New Jersey. Let me tell you: yesterday this divine force was even more persistent than usual. It just would not quit. By day’s end, I’m pretty sure I learned my lesson. This three-part series is about that experience.
Act 1: The Buddha at the Bus stop
It was pouring rain. Thankfully, I had this super huge umbrella with me. I’d bought this umbrella after I kept misplacing smaller black umbrellas. I figured the large size of this umbrella coupled with its rainbow design would make it impossible for me to misplace it. I call it my Gay Pride Umbrella because the rainbow design looks similar to one of those gay pride rainbows. But I digress.
Usually I don’t care much about getting wet, but yesterday was different. Because I would be appearing on TV, I didn’t want to get my hair wet or have my mascara run. So as I stood and waited for my bus, I found myself feeling very thankful and somewhat lovingly attached to my gay pride umbrella.
For about 5 minutes, I was the only person at the bus stop. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed movement. I turned my head. I saw a young man walking toward me. He was wearing a normal cotton jacket. He did not have an umbrella. He didn’t even have a hat.
There is no shelter of any kind at this bus stop. There isn’t even a tree to stand underneath.
My umbrella was large enough to keep two people – if not five – dry. What follows are a series of thoughts that ran through my mind:
He’s really getting wet. I should offer to let him stand under my umbrella.
But then I’d have to talk to him and stand close to him. I don’t like talking to people, and I really don’t like standing close to them, either.
What kind of a person are you? You dry greedy selfish ________.
Oh come on. He knew it was raining when he woke up this morning. It’s his own fault that he’s here without an umbrella.
What if he lives in the city and he was just visiting this area and he didn’t think to bring an umbrella with him because it was sunny when he left the city?
I’m going to pretend I didn’t just have that thought.
Ask him to share the umbrella.
No! I don’t want to!
What’s wrong with you? You’ve been working on being more generous. Now here’s your chance and you are blowing it.
I’m too tired to be generous right now.
Really? That’s your excuse?
Yes, I’m really tired. Just watch. I’m going to fall asleep on the bus and then you’ll believe me. You can’t expect me to be my best self when I’m this tired.
And on and on it went. Eventually the bus arrived. The soaked young man waved me ahead of him in line since I’d been at the stop before he had. I said, “Oh, no, you don’t have an umbrella. You get on first.” See? I’m not completely devoid of generosity. There is hope for me, right?
He boarded the bus.
Then I tried to close my umbrella. I had a difficult time doing so. I struggled with it and then I accidentally dropped my water bottle on the ground. The bus driver bent down and picked up my bottle for me, and then he said, “That umbrella is bigger than you are.”
I thought, “Oh, now you are in on this, too?”
I got on the bus. I sat down and I got myself comfortable. That’s when I noticed that the wet guy was sitting across from me. Right about then I started thinking about something I had learned in my Buddhism class about how enlightened beings are all around us. We don’t recognize them as enlightened, but they are there very patiently and persistently trying to teach us the lessons we must learn if ever we are to reach enlightenment.
“Oh my… What if he’s a Buddha?” I thought. “I really just blew it didn’t I?”
Then the wet guy pulled out a Blackberry. I spent some time wondering about whether a Buddha would have a Blackberry. That’s when I noticed another passenger. He was standing right in front of me in the aisle and he was waiting to sit down. I noticed his shoes first. Then I noticed a maroon-orange garment he was wearing.
There is only one thing that is that color. I slowly looked up. He had a shaved head.
He was a Buddhist monk.
Somehow I had not noticed him at the bus stop. It was as if he appeared out of nowhere.
He sat in the seat in front of me.
Now, you can be of the mind that believes that the monk on the bus was just a random coincidence. Or you can be of the mind to believe that it was anything but. That’s your choice. Given that I’ve gone back and forth to New York on this bus countless times and I’ve never once shared it with a Buddhist monk with a shaved head and robes, I got chills when I saw him. I can’t even begin to describe the sensation that took over my being except to say that it felt as if he already knew me and that he loved me even though I had been too greedy to share my umbrella. It was as if he’d been with me for weeks—if not years –and he would remain with me until I finally got it—once and for all.
