A man in a tiny Dodge Neon with a toolbox as wide as the car itself strapped to the roof stopped to help me out yesterday when I was stuck at the roadside with a friend's borrowed Jeep that had only come from the garage after a repair... this sentence is out of control. Let me just say there's a story here involving several moving (and non-moving) parts which my father would have called an "Aufenanger Adventure." Out of all of Dad's wonderful qualities, aspects, traits, his predilection to having "adventures" was the last thing I wanted to inherit, but here I was, stranded at the roadside in Central New York State in a borrowed vehicle. My own was towed by AAA to a garage the night before which turns out to be closed till Tuesday in observance of a holiday weekend - Memorial Day here in the States.
My sons were with me. We had just come from dinner. My still healing mouth can manage French onion soup and mashed potatoes. While we were waiting in a supermarket parking lot for the tow truck, and my ex-wife, at least four random passers-by offered assistance. The next day - which was yesterday - I was offered this other car, an old Cherokee, to use in the meantime. And then it broke down right at the bottom of Murphy Hill, at the stop sign, with about six impatient commuter drivers behind me. I'd only just picked it up from (yet another) repair shop in the morning. A young woman with kids in her van offered to help me push it out of the highway. It could not have been five minutes later till the funny little Neon with the gigantic toolbox arrived serendipitously at the scene. I had no phone coverage.
The fellow who struggled out of the little car informed me that he made his living as a mobile mechanic. He was pleased to accept a money offering if he could get me back on the road, but primarily he was a servant of God. He worked for Jesus. God is good. All covered in tattoos - "No Fear" and the sort of thing - he was obviously somewhat disabled by physical injuries, walked with a limp, had a bad back. He was a sight to see. His wife was with him, and his father. This fellow produced several battery operated diagnostic devices from his dangerously over-stuffed car's trunk and quickly ID'd the problem: no spark. Then he noticed the coil was new, and it had been jury-rigged without removing the old one and grounded only to the negative terminal with an insufficient wire.
He struggled to remove the vestigial coil, which was pretty well rusted in place, and installed the new one properly. About half an hour later he got me going, I gave him a hundred bucks, and off he went. Thank you Jesus-in-the-form-of-Aaron, for Aaron was the fellow's name. He took off down the road and I went about my business. That was that.
So it has been adventurous - mildly so, if we were to compare with Dad, but that's OK: he can hold the record. Dad's adventures might easily have involved a circus elephant and a bus load of Dominican nuns. I travel all around this country - which is a large country - and I meet by chance, on occasion, people who knew him, and Mom. Sometimes they are attached to monasteries Mom and Dad visited in their travels but often the acquaintance resulted from a roadside break-down adventure - an "Aufenanger Adventure." My mother used to say there were easier ways to make friends, though these easier ways were purely theoretical.
Mom and Dad were universally loved, as far as I have seen. The family name is unusual to boot, so we're easy to remember by it. I might easily have changed my name to "Jack's son," and it wouldn't have mattered a bit.
Why am I telling this story? Because it is amusingly serendipitous, and it is just the sort of thing that may occur when we're heading in the right direction. When you travel with God these sorts of things happen - both the angelic interventions AND the circumstances that necessitate them. In other words, the "bad" must happen for the "good" to happen. Both are experienced. Thank you God for my troubles that bring me closer to You.
In Buddhism, though it is folklore, they say that Bodhisattvas appear out of nowhere to help our spiritual journey once we have set foot on the path. This will bring both the trouble AND the salvation, or solution. In principle, it is much the same. Honestly, it is exactly the same - principles be damned. We give names to things to please our Egos - different religions, different sounding philosophies, pretty pictures, colorful regalia, complicated and beautiful rituals, smells and bells - but the names mean nothing except to the Ego. Our so-called differences and all-important distinctions are nothing but dust. In one church they might say "the people in the church across the street are not really Christians." Why? Because Ego. Because interpretations in the mind, ghostly, unreal, without substance. That's too bad, but so what? Reality is unmoved by it.
The Gospels were inscrutable, until they were not. The Heart Sutra was inscrutable, until it was not.
On this trip I have encountered Jesus-in-the-form-of-Lisa, Jesus-in-the-form-of-Wayne, Jesus-in-the-form-of-Kim, Jesus-in-the-form-of-Aaron. Shapes and forms. I have a friend who is a Rinpoche - that's a title that just means "beloved teacher," right? Jesus-in-the-form-of-Rinpoche. He calls me "the Buddha that does not come to teachings." Jesus-in-the-form-of-Buddha, Buddha-in-the-form-of-Jesus. He also calls me Richard Gere. I say, "You know Richard Gere, Rinpoche la. I am not him." He winks and says, "You guys all look alike to me."
Krishna-in-the-form-of-Mary, Jane-in-the-form-of... We are forever trading faces, trading shapes and forms, but we are not that. We are that which knows. We are the knowing. Today, I am Jesus-in-the-form-of-John, stranded on the roadside with a borrowed Jeep. Tomorrow will take care of itself. Once this is seen it cannot be unseen. It is Reality unfiltered by the buffudled mind. The mind can only see shape and form. That's its job. It is a faithful dog. But you don't ask your dog to explain the truth of Being. You ask your dog to fetch a stick. That's all. Good dog.
I used to play with model railroads. I was very interested in realism, creating a tiny world that looked quite real. When you create a wooded hillside you don't need tree trunks because in life you can't see the tree trunks when you look at a wooded hill, can you? No. All you need is the suggestion of tree-tops, of the tree leaves - little puff balls of green stuff held together with hairspray.
Now we're higher up on the mountain, we can see how tiny the trees appear below us. They used to block out the sun, and for a very long time we trudged along in their shade. This tree is the Doctrine of This, that tree is the Doctrine of That. Concepts. Words. Imaginary things to help us. Sometimes - too often - to hinder us. But now, from here, the view is clear. It's all the same. It's just trees.
Someone says "Praise Jesus," you say "Amen." Someone says "Namaste." You reply with the same. Someone says "God is Good," you agree. It's all true. We love shape. We love form. We love Life. So what? The trees are gloriously beautiful, from below and from above. But let us not be befuddled.
Peace, friends.
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