As It Is ~ GAMBLERS, ALL
No-one enjoys funerals?except
perhaps those who might have disliked the dead person
and those who stand to gain something from his or
her will?but funerals provide us with much needed
and excellent opportunities for introspection, especially
if we are confronted by the stark reality of the corpse,
and are unable to turn away from it. A funeral puts
us in a situation which, far from being morbid?as
many people suppose?might yield tremendous insights,
and quite possibly change our lives in ways unimagined.
It might even be said that death is the key to life.
I have just returned from the funeral of
a young man who went into the hospital for a minor
operation on his ear in 1984; the operation went wrong
and his brain was starved of oxygen, with the horrifying
result that he was left disabled thereafter, unable
to do anything for himself, or even to speak. Why
this terrible misfortune befell Tai?for such was his
name?we cannot say, and we must be careful not to
casually and callously dismiss it as "his karma",
as if we know, for we really do not know. What we
do know, however, is that he didn't want or try to
be, like that; it happened to him. One day he was
young, healthy, and handsome, with everything going
for him, and the next day, his life had changed forever,
and he had become a prisoner in his body, wanting
both to live and to die, but caught between and unable
to do either.
Two years after this happened, his condition
came to the notice of someone named Jacquie, who responded
to his needs, and not only took care of him as normally
only a mother would, but fought and contended with
the hospital authorities until they finally but reluctantly
agreed to pay ongoing costs for Tai's hospitalization;
this was no minor victory, as the hospital had refused,
and continued to refuse, to accept responsibility
for negligence. Jacquie's loving care for Tai touched
many people, and caused some to remark that they must
have had some strong bond from a previous life. I
can't say much about that, but am full of admiration
for her tireless efforts with Tai. He responded so
well to her that he even made an attempt to write
short notes to her, the first one of which, though
hard to read, of course, said: "Chet roi,"
which is Vietnamese for "Dead already,"
probably meaning that he was as good as dead, and,
therefore, there was no point in taking care of him.
This did not discourage Jacquie, however, and for
seven long years she bestowed her love and care on
him, and the Vietnamese that she had previously learned
came in very useful in facilitating communication
with him.
Tai's struggles in this life are now over;
ours, however, go on, and if we can learn something
from cases like this, to apply in our own struggling
lives, Tai's suffering might be seen as not entirely
in vain, and he might be regarded as our teacher.
"Teacher?" you might say. "In what
way?" Well, let me explain.
Although many of us do not approve of gambling?observing
how it causes so much misery?and would never enter
a casino, play cards or mahjong for money, bet on
horses, and so on, we are all inveterate gamblers,
even so, for the simple reason that life itself, day-by-day,
and even moment-by-moment, is a gamble. Everyday we
run countless risks, from operating dangerous machinery,
working with toxic substances, dealing with unpredictable
human beings, to the hazardous venture of crossing
the street. We have grown so used to the dangers inherent
in these and countless other activities, however,
that we no longer think of them; but this does not
mean that they are not there.
You might be the best driver in the world,
but that is not a guarantee of safety on the roads,
as there are just so many variables involved, and
not just the competency of the driver or the road
worthiness of the vehicle. And, though in other ways
we might distrust other people, we willingly and unhesitatingly
commit our lives into the hands of complete strangers
like taxi drivers and others, on the assumption that
it will be alright. Looking back, I must say that
I have led a charmed life so far, as during my many
years of traveling the world, I have been with some
very bad drivers (including a monk who once drove
me around Canberra, and whom I told that, though I
didn't mind visiting people in the hospital, I did
not want to be taken to stay there as a casualty),
and have never been in any kind of car 'accident'.
It would be impossible to compute how many times I?or
anyone else for that matter!?could have died on the
road!
We set off on journeys, long and short,
and make plans about what we will do when we get to
our destinations, as if we have already arrived; the
fact that we have done so until now does not mean
that we always shall. Again, it's a gamble, and "there's
many a slip between cup and lip."
Of course, if we were to worry about all
the things that might happen to us, we’d probably
never get into any kind of vehicle, but that would
be quite impractical, so we take risks, which is what
I mean by gambling.
But there are infinite other forms of gambling,
and who would deny that marriage is a gamble? And
even before that, falling in love is a risk-fraught
matter, as the first flush of love?which knocks some
people off their feet?is usually only very brief,
and is hard to sustain. The high divorce rate in Western
society is clear evidence that the turning of the
'roulette wheel' of marriage doesn't always come up
with what people hope for, and often ends in bitterness
and rancor.
Then, perhaps an even greater gamble, over
which people have less control than over their marriages,
is having children. It is impossible to know what
might become of them, and, having got them, they cannot
be returned to the store for a refund. No matter how
hard parents try to raise their children well, explain
to them about the right and wrong of things, set them
a good personal example, and provide them with a good
education, it is not sure that they will respond in
the way hoped for.
Yes, life, right the way through, is a gamble,
but, if we understood this, and how there is no choice
but to participate in the game, we would be better
prepared to take the risks, and be more philosophical
about it when we lose or do not succeed to the degree
we had hoped to. And, if it seems that Death eventually
catches us out, it will still have been worth playing
the game, because from beginning to end, there are
opportunities, not only to learn things, but also
to improve things for ourselves and for the players
who will follow us.
So, Gamblers, throw your dice, and do not
be disappointed if it doesn't come up six; there are
times when even a one might be appropriate, and any
situation, if examined intelligently, might be seen
to hold something positive.
[This article is dedicated to the late To
Van Tai of Melbourne].
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