Wait A Minute! ~ INTRODUCTION
Before anyone asks
me: ‘Why did you write this book?’, I
will pre-empt them and ask it of myself:
I have written it not because I think I
have all the answers to all the problems in the world,
but because I think we often look in the wrong places
or in the wrong ways for answers; usually, our minds
are full of ideas about what it is we are looking
for, and are motivated by fear or greed, not realizing
that such looking only distorts what is here and prevents
us from seeing clearly. Too concerned with ourselves,
we become like dogs running round in circles chasing
their own tails.
The world is a whole and we are parts of
it; even if we dislike or disagree with it, we cannot
separate ourselves from it. So we need a realistic
way of looking at it, a compassionate and positive
way. “As I am, so are these; as these are, so
am I”. The Buddha’s words help us to see
people and other living things with understanding
and love instead of with constant fear and self-concern.
I have chosen the cover-picture and the title
for this book to show different points-of-view. Both
the hawk and the mouse could be saying to each other:
Wait a minute!, but for different reasons. One could
be saying: “Wait a minute! Don’t go away;
I want to catch you”, while the other could
be saying: “Wait a minute! Let’s talk
this thing over!”
Unlike the participants of the picture, we
can look at both sides: that of the hawk and that
of the mouse. The hawk would excite admiration for
its streamlined grace, as it did in the person who
gave me the picture: “Isn’t it magnificent!”
Few of us would feel sympathy for the mouse, as mice
are regarded as pests that destroy crops, spread disease,
and so on. But the mouse also has its point-of-view.
Mice were on the planet long before men began to produce
food; it is not their purpose on earth to destroy
crops; that is our idea of them. Just what is their
purpose, we don’t know, but then, that is not
surprising, is it? We don’t even know what our
purpose is—or even if we have a purpose—do
we? Moreover, like you and I, mice also have feelings,
and wish to live and be happy.
In the hawk’s eyes, we see exultation
of the kill, while in the eyes of the mouse terror
of being killed. Nature is ruthless and without sentiment
and cares not if we live or die. Why does it favor
the strong over the weak? Why does it play cruel and
deadly games with its children?
Life is a struggle, involving much pain and
heartache, and finally, when death comes upon us,
we seem to lose all that we struggled for. But, looking
back, can we say that the living and dying of all
the people before us was a total loss and waste? Does
not every generation leave something to those that
follow? We carry on where others left off, as in a
relay-race, not needing to start all over again from
the beginning. And if we, as individuals, do not pass
on much to those who follow us, I am optimistic that
the generation of which we are part, will, though
to be sure, we will also pass on things not good,
simply because we are imperfect and still learning.
In and from our struggles, we might learn
things unique to our species and which distinguish
us from other beings, like compassion, tolerance,
self-sacrifice and wisdom; we have a broader vision
of life than animals have; our struggles and sufferings
will not be in vain if we acquire something of such
things. We inherited so much from people who lived
before us, and so, even though we pass and die, our
living will not have been a waste if we leave something
of value to others. Would this not be a more worthy
motive for living well than thoughts of a better personal
life after death? If there is an after-life, it will
probably follow on as a result of how we live this
life.
The hawk has no choice but to kill; the mouse
no choice about what to eat, be it crops in the field
or grain in the store. We, however, do.
Go well!
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