.
I looked around the small room and decided I could do this, so I unfurled the mosquito net and started unpacking my belongings. Various members of the Vishva staff shuffled in and out, bringing me a floor fan and a plug-in mosquito repellant device (I kid you not). Then Bhante appeared and announced that they arranged a bigger place for me. Th
ey saw I was a misfit for the smallish bed and room, although I was willing to be a trooper in Buddha's army and stay the course. Bhante reported that the Director of Vishva Niketan whom I had just met--a lovely lady with salt-and-pepper hair and a warm smile--graciously offered a second floor apartment in a gated courtyard building just outside the center. (See photo.)Also without screens or a/c, but lots more room. I dutifully sprayed mosquito repellant on my extremities and crawled under the net, tucking it down under the matress on all sides. The mosquitoes however were not impressed by these defensive tactics and had a good night of munching on my ankles, wrists, and arms. They seem to prefer limbs, like I was a Christian appetizer before going out on the town for a Buddhist main course. I actually rested very well bug bites notwithstanding, probably because of the tube of anti-itch cream I kept inside the netting tent. And that was my Saturday, which because of the weird science of time zone travel (and spending 28+ hours in the air) actually began at Thursday morning 02-19, half a world away, when I left KCMO for the first leg of my journey.
Sunday, February 22, was my first full day in Sri Lanka. Bhante invited me to breakfast with him. He eats breakfast and lunch but not supper, which apparently is typical for monks. Sometimes he will take a little soup in the evening. Also, according to Sri Lankan Buddhist tradition, monks eat first while others wait, sometimes watching like adoring fans. It's actually quite polite, a sign of respect for the office of clergy, but I don't think our congregations would go for it. In fact, some ministers make sure their people eat first before they sit to join them at church functions, although I've never gone hungry at a Unity potluck. Bhante actually broke tradition and ate with me, even though I was perfectly willing to abide by their customs.
Not surprisingly, breakfast was nothing like American style eating. Well, there was bread and butter. The main foods were two kinds of rice spaghetti with spicy lentil chili poured over it. Very tasty. Also garbanzo beans and sliced fruit. Bhante ate Sri Lankan style with his fingers; I asked for a spoon. Seating at meals is quite different, too. Think of an open-sided pavilion—like the kind you’d find covering a picnic area at a public park in the US—only there are no tables. Along the half-wall sides is a concrete bench about a yard deep. You perch on the bench and eat with the food beside you. (See picture, above.) I achieved my customary ½ lotus, which delighted the staff. I actually stayed in that Asian pretzel configuration for a good five minutes before dangling my feet (bare, or course).
We ate and chatted. Bhante introduced the two servers, delightful women. Their names are Pushba (on left in picture, her name means flower) and Karona (right, meaning compassion). Pushba and Karona were laypeople, not Buddhist nuns. They were ordinary, early middle aged women with extraordinary smiles, and everything they did overflowed with friendliness. That is ordinary here, too. I remember thinking, “If the Sri Lankans I’ve met so far are typical, this has got to be the kindest, most gracious nation on earth.” And I would leave the country ten days later with that belief still in place. I met Buddhist and Christian Sri Lankans. I saw Muslim women in the marketplace with their distinctive head scarves--only they were colorful here, reds and yellows and bright green head coverings, not just the black veils of Arab Islam. And I also saw Indian Hindus and mainland Chinese and Japanese, Koreans, and European expatriots--it reminded me of California.
We ate and chatted. Bhante introduced the two servers, delightful women. Their names are Pushba (on left in picture, her name means flower) and Karona (right, meaning compassion). Pushba and Karona were laypeople, not Buddhist nuns. They were ordinary, early middle aged women with extraordinary smiles, and everything they did overflowed with friendliness. That is ordinary here, too. I remember thinking, “If the Sri Lankans I’ve met so far are typical, this has got to be the kindest, most gracious nation on earth.” And I would leave the country ten days later with that belief still in place. I met Buddhist and Christian Sri Lankans. I saw Muslim women in the marketplace with their distinctive head scarves--only they were colorful here, reds and yellows and bright green head coverings, not just the black veils of Arab Islam. And I also saw Indian Hindus and mainland Chinese and Japanese, Koreans, and European expatriots--it reminded me of California.
.
California...That reminded me: What I really needed was a spiritual lift. So, with Bhante's prompting, I left the Retreat Center for the day and headed for the beach.
.
More to follow...
No comments:
Post a Comment