Buddhas in my pocket

Looking at the two men sitting on the raised benches at Federation square I wondered if the gap between them might just be a bit close to accept me without breeching the ‘personal space’ rule.

But I sat anyway.  The closeness resulted in us all facing awkwardly ahead. I wondered if I had done the right thing but decided to stay and drop into a silent third stage metta practice. The metta seemed to envelope the man on the right of me in particular.

I find it a fascinating place to sit for a while, this place of not knowing anything about someone yet sensing into their ‘being.’

Why was he sitting here in the midst of Melbourne city’s busy hub?

No back pack, no food, no drink. Yet he confidently took his place in his space and I somehow knew he was not waiting to meet anyone and was reasonably happy with his own company.

I also realised I  was very unsure if he would be happy, unhappy, angry or delighted if I tried to talk to him. I watched the physical response to this uncertainty dwell quietly in my chest.

So I waited patiently and curiously with the discomfort and wondered what would shift it.

Suddenly a delicate, tiny bird landed on the ground between us and looked up as if hopeful for a crumb.

Our heads fell forward simultaneously to gaze at this little package of birdy cuteness.

I sensed a smile coming from him that probably matched mine so I took the plunge into  that silence space that hangs between strangers.

“I think she wants your lunch.”

He laughed out loud, patting his protruding stomach,

” She won’t be getting anything from me. Its obvious to anyone its already gone ”

We fell into easy chatter.

He shared his story, encouraged by the occasional question from me.

He was a grandfather from Adelaide who had come over to watch his team play football the night before. The bus would take him home in four hours and he was biding the time ‘people watching’.

When talking about how he struggled as a young boy at school, he rejoiced in his own ability to find a path of meaning in life . He achieved success in business once out of school but soon saw that sometimes the simpler jobs, where he had time to enjoy his relationships with colleagues, gave him more pleasure than taking on promotions and making more money.

I saw in him, reflections of the many boys I taught over the years, whose lights of potential were always thankfully stronger than the labels that often followed them from class to class.

He wove into his stories the threads of his ability to smile in the face of struggles. He spoke movingly of his wishes for his teenage granddaughter in particular to find her way to achieve what she was capable of in life.

I knew it was the right time to open up my bag of ten buddhas, tell him about how each small buddha represented each human beings’ vast potential and offer him one to keep.

He immediately  chose a brass one that he thought his granddaughter would love.  Introducing it into its new home of his pocket, he wished me well on my adventure.

As we shook hands warmly, the space between us didn’t seem too close at all.

Buddha donated by Prasadajata  Emerald.Australia.

We both arrived in the waiting room around the same time for a test that required us to sit for two hours as they intermittently took our blood. After half an hour sitting reading in silence she asked me, “Do you mind me asking what that is around your neck? I am curious.”

I explained the significance of the kesa and then I asked her what she thought it might be when she first saw it.

“Something religious ….because I am a Catholic and the embroidery reminded me of the embroidered candles children have on a sash for one of our rituals.”

We fell into easy conversation and asked questions about each other’s faith. There was curiosity and connection. It was a lovely way to pass the time.

She explained that she attends a local church but feels saddened that most of her local  congregation are older generation- the youth are just not attracted to whats on offer.

It was poignant when she talked about a visit she had made to the Vatican. She was distressed and deeply dissolusioned  by the wealth displayed in the Vatican museums. Her sense of a powerful Vatican hierarchy that was out of touch with the important aspects of Christianity was strong. But her face lit up when she talked about her work as a teacher of with teenage boys at a Christian school and also the qualities of simplicity, humility and kindness she felt were exemplified in Jesus’ life.

So this is where we ‘met’ at a place of understanding about the value of care and kindness in the world. I told her about my pilgrimage and the street level practice of connecting with human beings by being present and kind. We also discussed the qualities of the Buddha and how I loved that something so small like my little buddhas could represent the vast potential in every human being.

I hadn’t taken my bag of 10 buddhas with me that morning  but I did have one buddha in my pocket and a small lotus charm that had been donated from someone in the sangha. I told her about the symbolism of the lotus. Holding the Buddha and the lotus in my palm I asked her if she would like to choose one to keep. I was convinced she would take the lotus however she immediately chose the Buddha and seemed delighted to have it.

As we parted I gave her a schedule of Melbourne Buddhist Centre classes as she had shared her wish to learn to meditate. Perhaps we will meet again.

Buddha donated by Leicestershire study group UK.

L is now looking after a Buddha given by Leicestershire study group 

Julie’s story :

It’s a beautiful autumn Saturday. I’m walking beside Maitripala bringing metta to mind. I feel the lightness of that as we pass a steady flow of faces and I enjoy just noticing and imagining how people are experiencing their day.

Along the length of Royal Parade and then down Elizabeth Street I fleetingly notice a pair of hands weaving bracelets as we pass. I don’t see who. I only see dirty hands and the perfectly clean finished wrist bands made of coloured thread displayed on the pavement. We pass on.

We make it to Federation square and I enjoy a drink with Maitripala,  Dantachitta and Itir before we go our separate ways. In my pocket is a Buddha but I don’t imagine I’ll find the person I can pass that onto let alone the courage to approach someone.

I find my feet travelling the way we came and I notice my mind returning to those hands. I do know where I’m going.

I listen to strong classical music as I make my way down Bourke Street, then around the corner into Elizabeth Street, gazing ahead and looking for that spot.

I see the bracelets on the ground and the rumpled blanket with no one there. A twinge of disappointment arises but before it takes hold this form moves quickly in front of me and quickly takes a seat. I see a bracelet. I buy it. It’s my way in to make contact.

I ask to sit down and he says ‘sure.’

L talks with bright intelligence. He says his plaiting helps him make a little money and that he gets his embroidery thread from Lincraft.

He says it’s safer on the street than in the Salvation Army Hostel, how the only showers he and others living on the streets can use are being renovated for the next six weeks and how he’s gotten used to being dirty. He says, “I’ve been homeless less than a year. It’s Ok now but I’m hoping I can get another blanket before winter”

We talk and it’s easy. I learn a lot about L in a very short space of time. I learnt that he was in the army, drove trucks in Afghanistan, didn’t see active service but saw the horror of how war can be. I learnt that he appreciates learning and loves philosophy. “It’s all cause and effect” he said. “It’s hard out here. You see the very worst in people but you see the very best too. People have been really good”.

I asked him if I could give him something. Again he answers ‘sure.’  I pulled the Buddha out of my pocket and passed it to him. “Wow, thanks” he said with a smile, as he gazed at the figure, turning it in his hands and admiring its detail.

It felt so easy to give it to him. As if his hands were made for the receiving of it and after photographing the Buddha in his hands it felt good to see him deposit it safely in the pocket of his jacket. We talked more philosophy and he had a natural Buddhist take on things. He’s a realist but he’s also an optimist.

There is something so simple that he said which will always stay with me, “The most important things are love, happiness and intelligence. That’s what I think”.

My last words to him were “You have the kindest eyes. See you again”.

I have thought of him since and have a tin box of embroidery thread sitting in a drawer that I think he could make good use of.