Don't Worry, Be Grumpy

  Her husband had told her that when he was a teenager attending an all-boys high school, a major fight was about to break out in his classroom. It had been brewing for days. The teacher used the last opportunity to exert her authority to order every student to stay at his desk and carefully tear out a page from his exercise book. Then she told them to write, at the top of the page, the name of the boy in the class that they hated the most. They all obeyed. Then she ordered them to draw a neat vertical line down the middle of the page and, on the left side of that line, write the reasons why they hate that boy so much. Her class happily followed that instruction too.

  “Now,” she commanded, “on the right side of the line, write the things that you admire and respect about that boy you hate.”

  That was very hard for the boys to do. She had to force them to complete the task.

  “Fold your piece of paper carefully along the vertical line,” was her next instruction, “and tear it in half. I am coming around with a wastebasket. The left-hand pieces of paper, where you have written all the reasons why you hate your enemy, I want you to place in the wastebasket. The right-hand pieces of paper, where you have written the things that you respect and admire about your enemy, you must politely hand to them. Do it!”

  The widow explained that the old half sheet of paper that she was holding up was the right-hand piece that her husband’s worst enemy at high school had given to him, describing all the things that he respected and admired in her husband when he was a boy.

  Her husband would refer to that half sheet of paper whenever he was about to get angry. If this is what his worst enemy could see in him, maybe he could bring himself to see some redeeming qualities in his own enemies. Then when he was close to becoming depressed, he thought that if his enemy could see such fine characteristics to admire in him, then maybe he could see them too. That is why he kept the half sheet of paper with him all his life. It made him a contented man.

  So if you don’t like yourself, get out a sheet of paper, draw a line down the center, write the things that you don’t like about yourself on the left side and the things you like about yourself on the right side. You must fill the right side! Then tear it in half, throw away the left side, and keep the right portion. Refer to it regularly. It will provide you self-esteem—and also save you spending a lot of money on therapy!

  69. Dealing with BIG Trouble

  While teaching in Malaysia, my hosts asked if I would see a friend of theirs who was in big trouble. She had been to psychologists and therapists, but no one had been able to help her. They thought perhaps I could help.

  I did not know what her problem was, but I did know that if all the best professionals had not been able to help her, then I would have to do something very different. Indeed it is not hard for a monk to think “outside the box,” because we actually live outside the box.

  When she came in to see me, I made my mind empty of all thoughts. Being a professional meditator, it is something very easy for me to do. Then she proceeded to tell me how she had been brutally raped.

  After she had finished the harrowing story, I heard these words come out from a place within my empty mind and through my mouth: “You are so fortunate to have been raped!”

  I was shocked at what I had said. The woman in front of me was even more stunned. These words had not been premeditated. They just came out from a very quiet place in my mind by themselves. I soon made sense of them. I told her:

  “I will never be able to comprehend what you have gone through and how you must feel. But what I have seen is that you have substantial inner spiritual strength. You will find your way out of this horrible hole, and when you do, you will be able to say something that I’m incapable of saying. You’ll be able to look deeply into the eyes of another victim of rape and tell her ‘I understand how you feel, for I’ve been there too.’ Then you’ll be able to do even more. You will be able to tell her the way out, saying, ‘Take my hand. I know how to get out of this horrible hole.’ I’ll never be able to do that. That is what I meant when I said ‘You are so fortunate to have been raped.’ You will later help so many others.”

  The woman understood. Somehow, my words had given the terrible experience a meaning and given her an important task to perform, not just for herself, but also for the comfort of many others.

  70. Kissing the Ugly Frog

  Once upon a winter time, a poor young maiden in rags was collecting firewood in the snow-covered forest to heat her drafty little hut. There among the fallen wood, she saw the ugliest frog that had ever existed. “Urghh!” she shrieked. “I think I’m gonna throw up!”

  Then the grotesque frog spoke: “Please don’t throw up yet. Help me instead. I’m really an unfortunate boy. I had a spell put on me by a wicked witch who didn’t like my music. Kiss me and the spell will be broken. In return I will make you wealthy and be your servant.”

  So the poor girl closed her eyes and kissed the frog.

  The frog didn’t turn into a prince, because these days royalty have too many bodyguards for wicked witches to come close enough to cast any spell. No, it was much better than that. The frog changed into a famous pop singer, cuter than Justin Bieber and just as rich. They started a relationship and now live happily ever after in a mansion in Malibu.

  Such is the oldest fairy story, with a little twist. But what is its meaning?

  There are many “ugly frogs” in our modern life. Your mother-in-law may be one of them (If you rearrange the letters in “mother-in-law” it spells “Hitler-woman”!). So how can you “kiss” such an ugly frog as the stereotypical mother-in-law?

  A young Buddhist wife could not get along with her husband’s mum, even though she tried. No matter what the daughter-in-law said or did, it was never, ever good enough. The mother-in-law would always find fault with her. It was driving the young wife crazy.

  The daughter-in-law tried meditating. That didn’t work.

  Then she tried spreading loving-kindness to her mother-in-law every morning and evening. That didn’t work either.

  Next she tried Buddhist chanting, but to no avail. The mother-in-law was just as critical of her as ever.

  Being a Mahayana Buddhist, the young wife would often pray to the goddess of mercy, Kuan Yin. So early one morning she tried praying.

  She must have been exhausted from all the worry about her mother-in-law because she fell asleep while praying and dreamed of Kuan Yin. There was the goddess of mercy in her flowing white robe holding the vessel of kindness, but when she looked at Kuan Yin’s face, she was shocked. The face was not the usual one that is seen on all statues of Kuan Yin in the temple. Instead, Kuan Yin had her mother-in-law’s face!

  It was a sign. From that time on, the young wife regarded her difficult mother-in-law as an embodiment of the goddess of mercy.

  With such a fundamental change in her attitude toward her mother-in-law, she received less negativity. The mother-in-law began to like her daughter-in-law, and they soon became the best of friends.

  How you regard others will be how others regard you. That is how to kiss an ugly frog and remove the wicked spell.

  71. How Not to Pray

  Some years ago, there were very bad floods in Queensland, Australia. A Buddhist monk was stranded on the roof of his temple, and the waters were rising, when a rescue boat came to save him.

  “Jump in the boat, Venerable Sir,” said the boat’s captain respectfully. “We’ve come to rescue you.”

  “No need,” replied the monk, matter of factly. “I’m a follower of Kuan Yin, the goddess of mercy. I have faith Kuan Yin will save me. Please, carry on.”

  “The flood will get worse,” said the captain. “You can pray to your god in the boat.”

  “Don’t mock me!” protested the monk. “Kuan Yin will save me. You’ll see!”

  The monk resisted all persuasion to get into the boat until it could wait no longer. The boat left to help others.

  Soon, the floodwaters rose, and the monk was cling
ing on to the curly ornaments on the ends of the temple roof’s ridge, which every Buddhist temple must have, when a second boat came.

  “Venerable Sir,” they shouted, “you’re a legend! We’re all very impressed with the strength of your belief, really, we are! Now jump in the boat! The water is rising fast.”

  “No way!” replied the monk. “This is a test of faith. I’ve prayed to Kuan Yin all my long life. She won’t let me down now. Kuan Yin will save me. Leave me and save the others.”

  “What if you’re wrong?” asked the captain.

  “I’m not wrong!” exclaimed the monk. “You’ll see!”

  No matter what the rescue crew said, that monk would not jump into the boat. So they left.

  The floodwaters rose some more, and the monk was holding on to the temple’s TV aerial when a helicopter came and lowered a ladder.

  “Monk!” they shouted down from a megaphone. “Listen up! You’ve proven your faith, okay? Now grab on to the damn ladder. We’re pulling you up.”

  “Kuan Yin will save me!!” screamed the monk.

  “Grab hold. Now!”

  “I have faith!”

  And still he refused. The helicopter had no choice but to move on, leaving the monk behind.

  You know what happened next?

  The waters rose and the monk drowned.

  When that monk appeared in heaven, he was very, very angry. He went looking for the goddess of mercy, and when he found her, he blasted her. “I had such faith in you, and you let me down! I told all those nonbelievers that you would save me, and you didn’t. I’m so humiliated and so . . . so . . . so dead! Why didn’t you save me?”

  Kuan Yin smiled and softly replied, “Didn’t I send two boats and a helicopter?”

  Now you understand how not to pray!

  72. The Blind Leading the Blind

  A famous monastery in the mountains of northern India, well known for its highly attained monks, had recently elected a new abbot who was also their spiritual leader. As it was getting close to winter, the young monks asked their new teacher whether it was going to be a cold season or a mild one.

  The new abbot’s meditation was not yet developed enough to predict the weather. However, to be on the safe side and impress his disciples, he said that it was going to be a cold winter and that the monks should collect a lot of firewood.

  A few days later, he had the idea to call the local weather station and ask the professor of meteorology, who happened to have the highest qualifications from Oxford University. “Professor,” asked the anonymous caller, “what type of winter can we expect this year?”

  “Signs indicate it will be a cold winter,” said the professor.

  Thus it was that, the following day, the abbot told his monks to collect even more firewood.

  A week later, the abbot made another anonymous call to the weather station, “Does it still look like a cold winter, professor?”

  “The signs are looking worse, sir,” replied the professor. “It looks like it will be a very cold winter.”

  The next morning the abbot announced to his monks that they should collect every piece of wood that they could find because he foresaw that it was going to be one of the coldest winters ever seen in the mountains.

  Thinking he might have gone too far, and that if he was wrong his reputation would be lost, the abbot called the head of the local weather station again. “Professor, are you absolutely certain that the signs are predicting a very cold winter?”

  “Absolutely!” replied the professor. “In fact the signs are getting worse by the day. This looks like it will be an extremely cold winter indeed.”

  “How can you be so sure?” asked the anonymous caller.

  “Because,” answered the learned professor, “all the holy monks in our local monastery are collecting firewood like mad.”

  The friend who sent me this story said that it is a metaphor for how the stock market works. He may be right!

  73. The Bad Elephant

  A local zoo had a gentle elephant called Ellie. All the children who visited the zoo loved playing with Ellie. She didn’t mind them stroking her long trunk or giving them rides through the zoo grounds. In fact she liked the attention. Sometimes, when the children had gone home and it was quiet at night, Ellie would gaze up at the stars and reminisce about the thick forests where she grew up and roamed wherever she wanted. She also remembered the times she was almost killed by hunters as well as the days when she went hungry because no food could be found. It was a comfortable life in the zoo, with delicious and plentiful food, free medical care, and an air-conditioned enclosure where she could escape the heat of the day. She was a happy elephant.

  Then something changed. One day, some school children visiting the zoo were teasing Ellie about the size of her ears. Ellie squirted water from her trunk all over them, soaking them all, including their teacher. Later, while her keeper was cleaning the elephant excrement out from her cage, Ellie pushed the keeper over headfirst into the pile of poo, which was large. Ellie was becoming bad. Soon, she was throwing rotten fruit at her visitors and refused to let children anywhere near her.

  The zookeepers called in the vet to see if some sickness had made Ellie bad. But the elephant doctor found no such sign of sickness. Then they tried an elephant psychologist, who suggested menopause just because Ellie was a female, but the doctor soon ruled that out. Meanwhile Ellie was becoming more ill-tempered by the day.

  Then someone suggested that it might be a spiritual crisis, a sort of elephantine dark night of the soul.

  So they called in a monk.

  The venerable monk could only come late in the evening after his duties were completed. So late one night, when the zoo was closed to visitors, the monk meditated alone in the dark just outside Ellie’s enclosure.

  Around eleven, the monk’s meditation was disturbed by the sound of low menacing whispers and demonic laughter. Was it a ghost? Were these the sound of vampires? They were coming from right behind Ellie’s enclosure.

  The monk rose from his meditation and went to find out. The monk saw that there was a gardening shop next to the zoo, and in the rear of the shop’s yard, right behind where Ellie was sleeping, some shifty men and women were having a secret meeting. Creeping closer, the monk could hear that they were drug dealers, discussing their evening’s nefarious business. A jar for flowers was not the only pot that was being sold in that shop. The dealers were also discussing the vicious punishments to be given to those who could not pay their drug debts. The cause of Ellie’s change in character now became clear.

  The following evening, the police were waiting for those drug dealers and arrested them all. In their place, the monk arranged some of his friends to meditate and talk of all the kind and generous things that they had done or planned to do, and how they would forgive those who had let them down. They also softly chanted the verses on spreading love throughout the whole world, to all beings, especially to elephants.

  Ellie started to become kinder and more gentle. After a few days, she was back to her old lovable self, happily playing with even the naughtiest of children.

  That story is adapted from an old tale taught by the Buddha. It shows how even animals are influenced by the behavior of others. So if you have a partner who is becoming more ill-tempered by the day, or a teenage son or daughter who is driving you crazy, lock them up in a monastery for a few days. They may become soft or kind like the monks—that is, unless the monks become ill-tempered like them!

  74. Hearing Voices

  A friend of mine was relaxing at home on his sofa, reading Who Ordered This Truckload of Dung?, when suddenly he heard a strange sound, almost like a whisper. He paused reading, and leaning forward, listened carefully.

  “. . . hey,” it seemed to say.

  He glanced around the room, but no one was there.

  “Hey.” he heard again, this time louder.

  The door was closed and the windows shut, so he decided he must be imagining things
. With a shrug of the shoulders, he nestled back into the sofa and went back to reading.

  “HEY!” came a shout this time, and he jumped back, nearly toppling over the sofa. This time, it was so strong and so clear, he couldn’t be imagining things.

  “Go to the casino,” the voice said.

  Now, it’s not every day that you receive supernatural help for your finances. Trusting in the voices from beyond, he decided to go gambling. He got dressed, took some cash, and before he knew it was stepping through the revolving glass doors into the world of flashing lights and raucous punters.

  As he walked in, the voice spoke again, “Go to the roulette table. Place a hundred dollars on number 6.” Following the voice, he made his way to a crowded table and placed the bet.

  The croupier spun the wheel and slung in the ball. The ball landed on number 6.

  “Yeah!” he heard the divine voice say.

  There was a murmur in the crowd. He had just won a considerable amount of money. My friend was excited.

  “Place all the winnings on number 17! Place all the winnings on number 17!” he heard the voice say. Buzzing from the win, he did just so.

  With a raised eyebrow, the croupier spun the wheel once more. The crowd held its breath in anticipation. This would be a big win. And guess what? It hit number 17.

  “Woo hoo!” the voice cheered along with the crowd, exploding in excitement. People began elbowing in to watch the mystery unfold, the table now awash with bodies.

  My friend was up to $100,000!

  He clutched the table, breathing rapidly. The room around him was spinning, a kaleidoscope of flashing lights. He made out the gaze of the croupier, who gave him a broad smile. He sensed this man was on his side.

  “Do you wish to continue?” the croupier asked gently.