Does He Take Sugar?
Many years ago Mahatma Gandhi was touring through India
on foot. He was approached by a young mother with a small
child, who asked of the great man,
“Please Mr Gandhi tell my son not to eat sugar. His teeth are
rotten and his complexion poor”
To which Gandhi replied,
“Bring him back in three weeks.”
The mother, somewhat confused, said,
“Please tell him now.”
Again Gandhi replied,
“Bring him back in three weeks.”
The baffled mother departed. Three weeks passed and the
mother returned, asking,
“Now will you tell him not to eat sugar?”
To which Gandhi replied,
“Young man, stop eating sugar.”
A somewhat bemused mother asked,
“Why could you not have told him that three weeks ago?”
To which Gandhi replied,
“Madam, three weeks ago I was still eating sugar.”
The moral of this story is: - Deal with our own kamma before dealing with others or set ourselves right before attempting to correct others.
Peter’s Problem
Peter had a problem. His mum had had a phone call from Jules’ mum because Jules had come home really late, and the next morning her mum had found her still fast asleep in her clothes, with a nearly-empty bottle of vodka sticking out of her bag. Jules’ mum had been so angry she’d gone through the messages on Jules’ phone, and the last one had been from Peter saying he was going to meet Jules in the park last night. Now Jules’ mum was on the warpath, and Peter’s mum had been shouting at him to tell her what had happened. Peter said he didn’t know anything about it (which wasn’t true). He admitted to seeing Jules briefly in the park, but said he never saw any vodka. Then he walked out, leaving his mum still shouting as he went.
Peter walked along the footpath by the edge of the field at the back of the estate. He was hoping to clear his head. The morning was sunny and quiet, and it was still quite early. As he walked, the events of the night before ran through his mind, all intertwined with images of Jules and the strong feelings that she stirred up in him, most of which were all the stronger because he wasn’t sure what they really were. He knew he found her attractive, but it was much more than that. He really admired the way she was her own person, she’d question things and wouldn’t accept the hypocrisy of the adult world. The vodka, for example: how come Jules’ mum was making such a fuss about that, when Jules’ dad was down the pub virtually every night?
The bottle of vodka had actually been stolen from the Co-op, with Peter creating a diversion by knocking over some cans while Jules hid the bottle in her jacket. As the cashier came over to help Peter pick up the cans, Peter caught his eye. Very briefly, Peter wondered what it was like to be the elderly cashier, and whether he might get in trouble for the vodka being stolen on his shift. But before Peter could think about this any further, Jules was off and running down the road, laughing out loud, with Peter trying to catch up. Peter finally caught her, but realised he was late for his paper-round, so they arranged to meet up later that evening with the vodka, and Jules gave him a wink as they parted.
After finishing his round and going home for tea, Peter wandered down towards the park where he’d arranged to meet Jules. He was half an hour early, but felt he couldn’t wait. He wasn’t sure if the excitement inside him was to do with looking forward to seeing Jules, or anticipating the vodka, or the thrill of getting away with the theft. He felt strangely hungry, although he’d just had his tea, so he went to buy a burger from the van on the corner while he waited. He was just handing over the money when a strange thing happened in his mind, and he saw the image of a cow, just standing there in a field, looking dumb and passive, as cows do. Where had that come from? His mind did seem to be doing slightly strange things lately. But then he remembered he’d made a sort of decision to try and become a vegetarian the day before – Jules was a vegetarian, and it was another one of the things that Peter admired about her. They’d had this really interesting conversation about how stupid and cruel it was to kill animals for meat, and it had made him think. “Sorry, cow” he mumbled out loud, and the burger van man looked at him strangely, so he wandered away back towards the park. Jules had even been on a couple of Animal Rights marches, and he’d seen her playing with her three cats and how kind she was towards them. He wished he could be one of her cats…
His thoughts were interrupted by a shout, and there was Jules staggering towards him and openly clutching the vodka bottle, which was already half empty. “Hiya, Pete,” she garbled. She offered him a swig and they sat down on the grass, but somehow it wasn’t quite as he’d imagined it would be. She was already quite drunk and not making too much sense. He wanted to catch up, and took another swig, but the mood was wrong and he just felt worse. Peter had been drunk before, so he didn’t feel like it was a big deal for him, but he realised that he was disappointed that Jules was so out of it. She collapsed back on to the grass, and started burbling something about the clouds and the moon. Peter thought she probably didn’t even know that he was there, and he just felt more frustrated. But looking down at Jules as she closed her eyes, he thought she looked more beautiful than ever, and he bent down to kiss her full on the mouth. To begin with, Jules didn’t respond, but then she opened her eyes wide and tried to push Peter off. She sat up suddenly and started trying to say something, but then was violently sick, and Peter jumped back out of the way. Jules was a mess. Peter felt a rush of concern for her, and went to try to comfort her, but Jules just swore at him and started staggering across the park in the vague direction of her home. Peter knew he should really try to see her safely home, as it was pretty late by now, but he was hurt and confused, and he just sat there watching her disappear.
So had ended a day of highs and lows for Peter. He woke the next morning still feeling pretty miserable, and then it was while he was having his breakfast that Jules’s mum had rung his mum, and his mum had started shouting at him. So now here he was trying to walk it all off in the sunshine, but still his mind was racing and his stomach was full of churning emotions. Peter didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t face Jules and he couldn’t face his mum. He couldn’t face anybody. So he just kept walking.
Peter came to an old brick bridge where the main road went over what used to be an old railway track, long since gone now. There was rubbish strewn around, and elaborate graffiti in bright colours covered the walls. He sat down on a lump of concrete under the bridge, and breathed long and hard. The sun was still shining and his mind came up with another one of those funny spontaneous images - this time a memory of a Buddhist Temple that his mum had taken him to years before. As it turned out, Buddhism had been just another one of his mum’s fads which didn’t last too long, but Peter had rather liked it at the time. He liked the cushions and the smell of the incense. Maybe it was the colours of the graffiti on the walls of the bridge that reminded him of the Temple. He sat still and listened. He could hear birds singing: they would be the monks of his Temple. Then he heard bees: that would be the nuns. Then, out into the sunshine just by the bridge, a large rabbit hopped and sat completely still looking at Peter with deep dark eyes. That would be the Abbot, thought Peter, he’d looked a bit like that. Peter smiled a little half-smile.
Then something happened. Or, rather, something didn’t happen. Peter’s mind seemed to stop thinking and the world seemed to open up in some way. Deep inside him, something tight let go and relaxed. It was all OK, really. Peter vaguely wondered if this meant that the horrible feelings from the day before, and from the scene over breakfast, would be gone. But, no, there they were still - but they were quite alright now, as he knew that that’s all they were, just feelings. He sat there just breathing and feeling alive.
After a while, Peter got up and set off home, and the rabbit disappeared off into a bush at the movement. Everything had changed and nothing at all had changed. He realised that he still didn’t know what he should do when he got home, but he also realised that it would not be so hard for him to work out what would be the right thing to do if he wasn’t afraid anymore. He’d been afraid of so many things, of losing Jules if he asked her to go out with him properly, but then of losing her if he didn’t. He’d been afraid of her looking down on him. He’d been afraid of everyone else at school looking down on him, come to that. He’d been afraid of ending up like his mum or the cashier in the Co-op. He’d been afraid of fitting in and conforming, and been afraid of being himself and being different.
Peter knew that it would take courage to stand up against these fears, but he somehow felt that he had this knowledge as a guide. He would have to start by telling the truth. He owed Jules an apology, not least for the stolen kiss, but he also wanted to talk to her at great length about so many things, and including his feelings towards her. He also thought she might be the only person who could understand his experience under the bridge. But she was probably still hung over or asleep, so it would have to wait. And they’d both have to try to put it right with the Co-op, and the cashier, and he didn’t yet know what this would involve - maybe even the Police - but at least he’d have to do lots of honest talking, and with this new courage as a guide he thought he could face it, whatever it would take.
But first of all, Peter thought, he owed his mum an apology and the truth. It wouldn’t be easy. He let himself in the back door, and there she was, still sitting at the kitchen table staring out of the window. She looked OK, but Peter could tell she’d been crying.
“Do you want a cup of tea, mum?” Peter asked.
The Wizard and the Thief
Once there was a wizard. He was walking with his friend. They were walking in the woods when a thief jumped out and knocked the wizard on the head with a club and tied him to a tree. Then he stole his money. His friend managed to untie him with difficulty. When the wizard was untied, he went to see the king. The king knew about the thief – the thief had stolen the king's stuff too. The thief said that if they didn't pay him 500 gold coins, he would rob everything in the palace. The wizard had an idea – he looked up a spell and got to work. He got some leaves and cast the spell. The leaves turned into gold. The thief came and was amazed, but he kept his promise and left. Every day the sack kept on getting lighter. Finally, the thief looked in the sack, but inside were only leaves. The thief tried to go back, except he was lost, and nobody has ever heard from his since then.
