As It Is ~ EXPERIENCE IS NOT ENOUGH
HAVE YOU EVER DIALED
a wrong number and been answered rather irritably
by the person on the other end, as if you had done
it on purpose, and they had never done the same thing?
How do you react if someone calls your number by mistake?
Not long ago, my phone rang, and when I
answered it, the voice of the elderly lady caller
was most apologetic, and said: "Oh, I'm dreadfully
sorry; I've got the wrong number. Please excuse me
for disturbing you." I hastened to assure her
not to worry; it wasn't a problem. But the politeness
and sincerity in her voice made me feel good; it was
as if I were talking with someone I knew well; I felt
that this was the kind of person that one could easily
get along with. In an age where brusqueness and couldn’t-care-less-ness
is all too common, it is pleasant to meet someone
? even if it's only over the phone ? who respects
others enough to be polite and sincere; it kind of
restores one's flagging faith in humanity.
Once, in Sydney, while sitting in a car
waiting for the lights to change to green, I heard
a tremendous sneeze, and, looking around to see who
had made it, my eyes locked into the somewhat embarrassed
look of a man in the car next to ours. What passed
between us was a sort of communion that remains in
my mind, for it was as if, having sneezed so loudly,
and drawn attention to himself, his barriers were
down for a moment. We smiled at each other knowingly,
and then the lights changed, and we drove off. But
I felt that because of such an opening, a friendship
could easily have developed between us, complete strangers
to each other though we were.
A year after this, I was in a crowded bus
in India, and had to stand up for over an hour, as
there were no empty seats; but I didn't mind as I
had no choice except to stand, as people in India
seldom give up their seats to anyone, and it wasn't
a long trip anyway. Standing there alone, among so
many people, with no companions but my thoughts, into
my mind ? though why, I can’t say ? came the
memory of The Great Sneeze, and I felt a sense of
joy and lightness come over me. It was hard to restrain
myself from laughing out aloud about it, and if I
smiled to myself no one seemed to notice or care;
in India, they probably think you're mad anyway, no
matter what you do or don't do!
Now, anyone with a bit of imagination, and
who has experienced the sudden and unexpected upsurge
of a fond memory that made them feel warm and good
? and I'm sure it has happened to most people, if
not to everyone, at one time or another ? will understand
that I hadn't had too much of the hot Indian sun on
my bald pate, and will probably empathize with me.
And how have you felt when, out on the street,
you almost walked head-on into someone coming from
the opposite direction, and each one, in an effort
to make way for the other, turned aside, only to come
up against each other again; so, once more, both parties
dodged, with the same result, until finally, you managed
to disengage yourselves?
It is really quite funny, though at the
time maybe a bit exasperating; but, because both parties
dodged, it showed a willingness to consider each other;
if one or the other had been stubborn, and kept on
walking straight ahead, the other party would have
to give way, sort of like in a game of 'chicken' or
brinkmanship. Try to observe the situation next time
it happens, if my telling of it here has not robbed
it of its spontaneity by then. And my talking of this
brings to mind the well known incident from the story
of Robin Hood, where Robin was about to cross a stream
by means of a narrow plank, but saw a giant of a man
stepping onto the other end. Both men, unwilling to
give way to the other and 'lose face' thereby, advanced
onto the plank, where they met in the middle and attacked
each other with their staves, and were knocked into
the stream. Fortunately, they saw the funny side of
this, so became firm friends instead of enemies, as
could easily have happened, and John Little ? for
such was his name ? was renamed Little John by Robin
Hood, and has been called so ever since.
What a lovely thing it is to communicate
with others on the same frequency, and to know that
you are being understood! What a lovely thing it is
to meet someone and smile, just for the joy of communication,
and with no other motive! The fact that we live in
such huge communities today, where there is a lot
of fear, tension and suspicion, should not prevent
us from seeing the possibilities of such communication;
we need it so much, and so should open ourselves to
it, even though we will probably sometimes be rebuffed.
Some of us lock ourselves up within stern facades,
pretending to be other than we are, and, after a while,
we forget that it's only a masquerade, and take it
for real, thus becoming prisoners of ourselves. Certainly,
we all know that appearances can be deceptive, and
that if we always take people at face value, we might
sometimes be cheated and disappointed; but, we should
not conclude from this that all people are cheaters.
Are you a cheater? And, if you have suffered painful
experiences at the hands of others, that is all the
more reason for you not to cause suffering to others
in similar ways: you know how it feels.
Now, because no one really wants to suffer,
we may suppose that some people ? even though they
may be only very few ? have learned enough from suffering
to have made up their minds not to hurt others in
any way. There are good people in the world, and we
should not allow the publicity about the crazy people,
who commit all kinds of crime and folly, to blind
us to this.
Everyone experiences many things as they
pass through life. But it is not enough just to have
had many experiences; we must learn something from
them; only then is experience useful. Unfortunately,
not everyone does learn, and some people who have
had many experiences might have learned less from
them than people who have had fewer than they. So,
to say of someone: "He's had lots of experience,"
might not really mean as much as we suppose it to
mean.
Looking back on the five years that I spent
in the Refugee Camps of Southeast Asia, the thing
that saddened me the most was not so much the suffering
of the refugees, which was a result rather than a
cause, but the fact that many of them seemed to have
learned very little from all their pain and suffering.
Was I too naive and idealistic to expect refugees
not to take advantage of opportunities to exploit
and tyrannize their own people? There were many instances
of refugees stealing mail ? and sometimes huge amounts
of it ? from Post Offices in the Camps while they
worked there as volunteers; there was large scale
pilferage of food supplies, theft of private property,
and generally, where there was an opportunity for
self-gain at the expense of the community, there would
be no shortage of takers. Was it too much to expect
them to consider the feelings of their fellow refugees,
having undergone the same difficulties in their escape
from a common enemy ? things like being attacked,
robbed, raped, terrorized and killed by pirates, running
out of food and water at sea, with people in the boats
dying of starvation and dehydration, overloaded boats
being hit and swamped by storms, and so on? Obviously
it was, for all this had failed to create a bond between
them, and unite them in their adversity. Thus, life
in the Camps went on as it did outside, with corruption
flourishing wherever it could, with people quarrelling,
fighting, stealing, cheating, and sometimes killing
each other, people drinking to excess if they had
the money to do so, without a thought for those who
had no money and couldn't afford to buy basic necessities,
or give their children a little treat. No, not everyone
learned from their pain, and some used their good
fortune at being safe and free to cause more suffering
to others. Many were quick to blame others for their
situation, and complain about it, instead of looking
at it intelligently, to see what they might make of
it Many were very lazy, and would not lift a finger
to do anything to clean or improve the Camps, unless
ordered to do so by the Camp authorities, but would
sit around all day long, smoking, drinking, gambling,
quarrelling, or feeling sorry for themselves. Then
they wondered why Western countries reached saturation
point from taking in refugees, and began to suffer
from 'compassion fatigue; no country needs or wants
people like that, already having plenty of its own.
It is not a right that people who flee their countries
should be accepted for resettlement by another country;
it is not a right, but a privilege and a blessing
!
One time, in Bataan Refugee Camp, the Camp
having become excessively dirty because of the carelessness
of the refugees, and overgrown with long grass because
of the monsoon rains, the camp administration summoned
the representatives of such refugee groups as the
Boy Scouts, the Catholic Youth, and the Buddhist Youth
(known as 'The Buddhist Family,' or 'Gia-Dinh Phat-Tu’
in Vietnamese), to a meeting, and asked them to 'volunteer'
to clean up certain areas of the Camp. Having no choice
but to accept an assignment, the Buddhist Youth were
given the job of cleaning up the cemetery area. On
the day appointed for this, they assembled in the
temple, and someone came to ask me for the Buddhist
flag. When I asked them what they wanted it for, they
said that they were going to clean up the cemetery.
I remonstrated, in vain, that they didn't need the
Buddhist flag to do something useful for the community,
but they insisted on having it, and off they marched
through the Camp to the cemetery, with the flag held
high in front of them. If they had not been 'asked'
to clean up, they would never have done it on their
own initiative, and I say this from my long experience
of them. All that I ever saw them interested in was
playing and singing, and, while this is alright for
small children, many of these were young adults. Then,
when there was no alternative but to do it, they made
a big show of it, and let everyone see what they were
doing by carrying the Buddhist flag! They and I obviously
had different ideas about Buddhism, and I must confess
that my understanding of Buddhism seemed rather out
of place in the Camps, where any mention of social
service or community work was often met with a look
of disbelief. There were exceptions to this, of course,
but they were exceptions, not the norm. It has amazed
me, therefore ? but I'm very happy about it ? how
so many Vietnamese refugees have made out extremely
well in the West, in both study and business; many
of them have worked very hard, and have succeeded
in what they have undertaken. But it has been largely
for themselves; to get them involved in community
work is very difficult, and Vietnamese who have tried
have told me of their frustration therefrom. Might
their reluctance to do something for others be a result
of the forced labor programs imposed upon them by
the communist regime in their homeland? Has this killed
or stunted their ability to feel and care for others?
I don't know, but I do know that my attempts, by word
and example, to get the refugees in the Camps to do
something for their community had little success.
Once in Palawan Camp, I called some of the
young people who frequented the temple to help clear
a plot of waste ground behind the temple, so that
we might grow some vegetables there. Nobody had used
this ground for anything except dumping garbage in
all the years ? almost ten ? that the Camp had been
there, so it was heartening to see it becoming clear
and its potential revealed as the work progressed.
I had only a small group of people to work
with me, and it was a bit difficult to maintain their
interest and attention as the days passed; there was
a marked tendency for them to stop work and drift
away if I went off to do something else, and almost
none of them took the initiative to begin work without
me, although there was nothing at all technical about
it that required supervision.
To counteract this tendency, I explained
to them that they shouldn't think they were working
for me or because of me, but with me for the sake
of others, because if they thought they were working
for or because of me, they would stop work when I
left the Camp, whereas if they understood, clearly,
that we were working for the community, out of love
for others, they would continue working and working
with joy ? long after I had gone. Sadly, they didn't
seem to understand this, and so, after I was no longer
there, the work ceased, and the ground went back to
garbage, which meant ? did it not? ? that they had
been working for or because of me, which is not what
I wanted at all. (In actual fact, I had been working
for them!)
If we see something that needs doing, and
if we have the capacity and time to do it, it is infinitely
better to do it on our own initiative than being told
or asked to do it by someone else; we do not always
need to depend upon authority if we use our minds
and accept the responsibility that comes from being
members of a community; we do not need someone standing
behind us with a gun, telling us what to do and what
not to do.
This particular task of cleaning the waste
ground had a number of interesting side effects: not
only did we transform something that no-one else had
thought of using into something useful, but there
were several lessons in it for those with eyes to
see. Palawan Camp is situated on a beach on an island
in south Philippines. It is not a very nice beach,
of course, otherwise there would have been a tourist
hotel there instead of a Refugee Camp. Because of
its situation, the ground was full of hard coral rocks,
and so our work of clearing the ground necessitated
digging up and smashing some of these rocks. This
was quite difficult, and we found that if we just
smashed away at them with a sledge hammer, it entailed
a great expenditure of energy, whereas if we looked
at the rock from different angles, we might be able
to find a weak spot which, when struck, might cause
the rock to split easily: a case of mind over muscle.
Then, on the other side of this ground stood
the residence of a French-Canadian Catholic nun who
was noted for being a bit fierce; someone had also
told me that she was not very sympathetic towards
the Buddhists in the temple because the sound of their
chanting (which, I will be the first to admit, was
a bit difficult to bear, as they often insisted on
using a microphone and amplifier for it, even when
there were only a handful of people; it was totally
unnecessary!), was not music to her ears. Anyway,
while we were at work one day, she came out to me
and said: "I'm so pleased with what you are doing;
it looks so good! And I would like to offer you something
to buy refreshments for your workers," and she
pressed a 100-Peso note into my hand! We became quite
good friends after that, because she, at least, had
understood that what we were doing was not just for
ourselves. And the best thing was, we had no idea,
when we started work, what kind of effect it would
have upon the nun; indeed, we didn't even think about
her, let alone expect anything from her. So, when
she came out with praise and a gift, it was so much
nicer because it was unexpected.
On top of this, other refugees, seeing what
we were doing, were inspired to do something similar
around their own quarters, and soon there were several
tiny garden plots, where there’d been only garbage
and weeds before. And the vegetables that were grown
and harvested from our plot of ground were only another
result of our efforts (and, in my opinion, not the
most important result either).
The coral rocks lying around the Camp were
regarded by most people as obstacles or nuisances,
I suppose, and as far as I could see, no-one had found
a use for them. But, following my life long commitment
to recycling, and finding uses for things that are
wasted or regarded by others as useless, I began to
look at these rocks and wonder what could be made
of them. There were some trees in the Camp, but no
seats for people to sit on in the shade and relax.
Wooden seats would not have long withstood the voracious
appetites of the ubiquitous termites, or the careless
usage of some of the refugees. Seeing the need, therefore,
and how to fill it, I asked some people to help me
to drag out some of the rocks that would serve our
purpose, set them in place beneath the trees, then
cemented their tops flat, so that they might be used
as seats; and then, before the cement dried, I wrote
various 'messages' in it that I thought might be edifying.
Thus, what had formerly been useless became useful,
and, while most people would only use them to park
their butts on for a while, some would, I am sure,
learn something from those 'sermons in stones,' and
they have probably been carried all over the world
since then.
If we will just break away from convention
and the 'herd mentality' at times, and look at things
somewhat differently than others look at them, we
shall probably make some surprising discoveries, from
which will flow a feeling of joy that surpasses the
happiness we seek; it is not really far away.
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