Why the Tibetan Prayer Flags are still flying After my neighbour asked me to take them down (see previous story), I truly did intend to do so - not because I wanted to, but it seemed helpful to my neighbour and his wife. Yet the next day, the wind blew very strongly - as it can only blow in Fish Hoek. It was impossible to get the ladder and untie the string of prayer flags from the top of the tree. The next day, the wind blew strongly again. Two days of high winds were good for spreading blessings of peace and kindness to all sentient beings. Yet they were not good days for appeasing my neighbours dislike. In these two days, I noticed that while I sat in the morning sipping tea and munching on breakfast, enjoying the flags, my neighbours did not stir until much later and their sun room from where they can slightly see the flags, was shuttered and inactive. They seem to barely use the room. This got me thinking...how much value will be created if I take down the flags when my neighbors appear to barely use the room anyway? I also wondered how much benefit the prayers flags bring to all sentient beings in the garden, and in this part of the neighbourhood? What if the prayer flags really do share basic goodness and blessings of good fortune with all the insects, butterflies, birds, flowers, trees and other sentient beings here? On the last morning of retreat, Donal spoke about the ability of good, strong wishes to make a positive difference in the world. I considered this and found that I fully accepted (okay, believe) that the prayer flags bring positive benefit to sentient beings. The noble, good wishes that are transmitted through the prayers inscribed on each flag, flow into the Universe. Yet I still intended to take down the flags today. On Thursdays my gardener comes to help and I knew the flags could come down with his help. Today I had contracted a professional gardening service to mow the lawn as I cannot afford to buy a lawn mower. I was going to buy a small machine to help cut the grass, but when I investigated prices and types, I was advised by a kind technician in the business for 20 years, that the machine I would buy would soon break down as the lawn is too extensive. The job needs a full-on, petrol-driven lawnmower. This is just too costly for me to purchase. The only solution was to hire a company with all the right equipment and let them do the job in an hour. They arrived late morning. A loud knock at the door. A white man in his 60s, very weathered face, haunted grey eyes, cataracts visible, very thin arms and legs, wearing old clothes and with a machine pressed to his throat so that his barely-audible, raspy voice could be heard, stood there. Ive come to do the garden. The words were harsh, indistinct, buzzing with electric current from the battery-operated machine. In this moment, I sensed this tired, old mans frustration at not being able to communicate clearly. Cancer had robbed him of his voice organs. Behind him, three younger African men came down the stairs into the yard wearing dirty, old overalls with pants so worn the zips could not close. Their shadowed eyes did not look up. They did not expect a greeting, or any humanity to come to them. They walked their dispossession and unhappiness into the yard. The team got working. Their machinery broke down. I could see there was little cooperation with the old white man. He was too strange, tense and frustrated. African garden workers bear their difficulties silently in front of whites and usually do not reveal strong reactions, unless they are truly disturbed. They are stoic and no matter how unhappy, usually have a sense of calm resilience. It is a generalisation, I know, but their way is different when they are faced with difficulties. The old white man flamboyantly threw the rake down with frustration and anger. There was a tipping-point feel to the atmosphere. I could sense this from within the sunroom, looking through the windows. Chanting Om Mani Peme Hung silently, with tonglen wishes for their happiness and peacefulness, I went and got some cold drinks. A random act of kindness will help here, passed through my mind. I walked outside bearing the drinks. Before they saw the drinks in my hands, the African men were exchanging looks between themselves that shared communication of how little they liked and wished to work with the strange man with his buzzing machine-voice. Yet the offering of soft drinks changed things. They were grateful. Just be peaceful I said to them, quietly, out of ear-shot of the white man. They looked at me with understanding and agreement. The atmosphere changed. They returned to the work. When they had finished, the white man came past me, standing on the outdoor stairs leading up out of the yard. Those flags, are they prayer flags? he asked, looking me straight in the eyes. Tibetan Buddhist prayer flags? he continued, wanting to be clear. His hand held the machine pressed up against his throat, and his voice was somehow clearer in speaking than any other time that morning. I nodded to him, smiling. Did you put them up when you came here? Yes, I said. Are you spiritual? Yes. You are. I see that. How do you learn about...Buddhism? he said with a strong accent on the word. Do you study it? His questions flowed out at a pace. His eyes were hungry for answers. I could see he wanted peace and understanding. Sharing the wisdom from the masters, from the dharma, I spoke to him about how frustration and anger would not help him with the difficulties. I spoke of self-appreciation, gratitude, acceptance, openness, softness, kindness, forgiveness, optimism and trusting ones own basic goodness and those of others, always. The way you speak - acceptance, softness, kindness, trust - it is wonderful to me. How do you learn that? I looked into his eyes and saw he was calm and inspired, grateful, far lighter in mood and more positive in view. When you come back in two weeks, we can talk again, I said. His eyes lit up. He had thought the job had gone so badly that he would not be coming back. He had thought I would complain, and his two-weeks of work would be lost to him. He had thought it would be yet another blow. He walked up the stairs and then bent down to look through the railing at me. You have given me some good things to think about. Thank you. The smile on his weathered face and shine in his eyes made my heart glad. Gladness shared. I was going to take down the prayer flags today. But after this mans experience? No, it no longer seems the right thing to do. Om Mani Peme Hung Hri.
Posted on: Thu, 30 Oct 2014 13:35:33 +0000
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