Thoughts from a Thinking Girl

I’ve heard that one way to reach enlightenment, or at least not to be so frustrated by daily irritations, is to assume that everyone we encounter each day is a Buddha, an eminent teacher sent to help us learn an important lesson about ourselves. Many of these Buddhas are wrapped in loving-kindness, and meeting them is a true delight, and we open ourselves easily to their teaching. Others are not so easy to meet.

Yet in this way of thinking, we are to greet even the most
challenging of people and circumstances with an openness to learn from them, a humbleness that perhaps we are their Buddha in the road, and that we are all here to learn and grow. The thorns of a rosebush make the rose more precious, make us slow down and carefully take the flower, appreciating how its beauty is protected by the prickly, dangerous bits. We must always anticipate the thorn, and we might accidentally get hurt, may be careless in handling the stem, and then we will bleed. Just a bit. And we forgive the rose.

I have cultivated many skills to enjoy and navigate the small moments of interaction with strangers and acquaintances, and I’m proud to say I’m almost always pleased with how I meet different people on the road. I have met the Confused Buddha, the Frightened Buddha, the Lost Child Buddha, the Grieving Buddha, the Lonely Buddha, the Jealous Buddha, the Insecure Buddha and even the Stingy Buddha. I have been pricked by these Buddhas’ thorns of self-protection, yet the wounds have been clean and easy to heal, and I have understood that the intention was never to harm me, but to protect themselves. I’m sure I’ve become the Irritable Buddha or the Impatient Buddha in response, but I hope that in doing so I’m forgiven, as I come to forgive these others for their temporary woundings. But usually, I’m closer to the Laughing Buddha – people tell me they love my laugh, my warmth and positive attitude, and I even heard from someone today that I have a little giggle in my phone voice. What a compliment this was.

Yet less than an hour before I heard this about me, I had encountered my least favorite Buddha: the Angry Buddha. We traveled for a short time together, this Angry Buddha and I. I initially mistook this person for the Creative Buddha, the Spiritual Buddha, the Enlightened Buddha. Maybe even the Savior Buddha, as at the time I think I was looking for someone to rescue me. That should have told me what I needed to know, but it didn’t. Not then. All I knew was that I was getting smaller and smaller, less and less like my usual self, like a Vanishing Buddha.

Even long after even our paths have separated, the Angry Buddha continues to appear without my beckoning. It’s not really a meeting, more of an ambush, a hijacking out of my safe and snug life. A hostile takeover, creating fear, pain and entrapment. The infliction of harm not through accident or the self-preservation of thorns and defenses, but through the intent to destroy. Without any control over the moments of meeting, I am often caught unaware, which by now is a sign that I have much in me of the Naïve Buddha. Every time we meet, I am surprised, stunned, angered, troubled and hurt. Where there was one Angry Buddha, there are now two. In the aftermath, I’m flattened for a bit – I’m hollow and depleted–the Defeated Buddha.

I’m sure meditation books and spiritual advisors would tell me that I should meet the Angry Buddha with compassion and kindness. To not form any attachment to the Anger, but connect with the innermost Buddha nature hiding underneath. But I’m not anything like an enlightened being, and I may never get to this place. I don’t meditate, don’t do yoga faithfully (it probably doesn’t count that I incorporate some yoga poses into my gym routine), and often forget to even breathe deeply. I just want to get through my days in a way that makes sense to me. And the Angry Buddha wreaks havoc with what I think makes sense.

I always recover from the encounters with the Angry Buddha. Then comes the glimpse of the lesson I am learning. The recurrence of the Angry Buddha calls attention to how much of my life is spent alongside the Kind Buddha, the Supportive Buddha, the Smart and Funny Buddha, the Benevolent Buddha, the Thoughtful Buddha, the Eager-to-Learn Buddha, and the Generous Buddha. Such a life of blessing have I now that these Buddhas permeate my household, my family, coworkers, and my closest circle of friends. My son is the Joyous Buddha; my husband the Noble Buddha. To them I am the Loving Buddha, the one they look forward to seeing each day and someone they eagerly learn from.

So here’s what I aspire to express one day as my gratitude – for both the Angry Buddha and the lessons you have taught me:

Thank you, Angry Buddha, for teaching me the things I am willing to fight for. You saw me as a flower – perhaps – but never a rose. You have never forgiven me for refusing to die after you cut my stem. I will continue to fight your attempts to take over my life and poison what is dear to me. I used to fear that having to engage in such a fight would poison me, prohibit me from being the kind of person I want to be. But it hasn’t. It’s done the opposite. It’s freed me up to appreciate and enjoy the loving-kindness surrounding me. I’ve had to grow different thorns and be willing to use them. Most people in my life see me as the rose, even when they encounter some of my pricklies, and they forgive me for them. You have made me an active creator in my own happiness, no longer waiting or hoping for someone to make it for me. Your continued attempts to diminish me have forced me to become fully alive, and what a choice that has turned out to be.

Oh how I wish that when you cross my path again, you’ll have transformed from whatever life lessons are awaiting you. But until then, I promise to use you, Angry Buddha, to remind me to cultivate loving-kindness for the roses in my very own garden.