Sometimes we needed to take the car; we wanted to do some sightseeing. You’ve never seen that kind of vehicle. I don’t know if it was an ox(-person) cart or a horse(-person) cart. It’s true that there were wheels beneath, but the top part, I really don’t know what you’re supposed to call it. It feels like something from the 17th or 16th century horse(-person) cart. You see? There were wooden boards in the back. Wow, after sitting on that, a lump of some sort grew on my behind as big as an egg. Really, I’m not lying to you. I don’t lie, nor do I exaggerate. No exaggeration, wow, it really hurt a lot because the roads over there weren’t exactly roads. There were holes everywhere, which made the cart going like this, “Ka-dang! Pa-pong! Pa-pong!” It was even worse than horse-back riding. And I didn’t have that much fat. I had no fat, so it randomly gave me massages. When it massaged where the bones were, wow, what happened? A lump protruded, like an egg; I thought I was about to lay an egg.
But at that time, I had stronger aspiration for the Tao; I made a pilgrimage to a place called City of Ten Thousand Buddhas. There were many temples before. It’s called Pagan. Pagan. P-A-G-A-N, Pagan. I think there were no flights from the capital city to that place. If you wanted to go, you had to take that kind of vehicle. Only one meal a day as well. Only one cart a day. No others. You had to get up at 3 AM, go there to wait, and squeeze with people. Whoever could squeeze in got to go. Otherwise, you had to come back the next day. My husband was taller and bigger in size. Even he managed to squeeze in. He took up space for one person, which was enough for the two of us to sit, taking advantage of those smaller Asians. Later on, he even managed to get two seats, but with a protruding egg-like bump, it was not exactly fun.
However, being able to go there and visit those temples was worth all of the hardship for me at that time. Now anywhere you go, there are good cars everywhere, even in mainland China and communist countries. I saw your relief work in Âu Lạc (Vietnam). Wow! You luxuriously travelled in cars, but even then you still complained about this and that, like the car engine was not good. We didn’t have that in Myanmar though we had money. There was no car like that for us to ride. When there was a car, a few thousand people would squeeze in. Really. There were people hanging outside, on the windows, on the roof, in the back and front as well. And next to the driver too. On his left, behind him, and in front of him. I don’t know how he managed to drive. The way he looked was really incredible. They didn’t care whether you were a woman or a man. Everyone just kept squeezing in as long as you could get some space. But what was good about them was that they all let the monks sit. No matter how crowded it was, they’d give up their seats to monks and then squeeze in the remaining space.
We didn’t really see much, just those dilapidated temples, headless Buddhas, earless arhats, and Bodhisattvas with missing hands. The Quan Yin Bodhisattva with heavenly hands and eyes didn’t even have one hand left. They were all taken away by archaeologists or tourists. Each person took one hand home. Their government was strict in controlling those things. You couldn’t bring a whole statue out. If it was older than 50 years, it couldn’t be brought out. The ones less than 50 years were OK, you could buy them. You can’t buy antiques even if you have money, they were very strict about that. Although they were strict, everyone still took a hand with them when they left. Everyone took one hand home and put it in the living room for decoration.
Why didn’t their government allow them to trade? They worried that the Westerners would put them in the toilet, or the bathroom, just as decoration. People in Myanmar have great respect for those things. And the Western tourists don’t understand. They say, “If we can’t take the whole statue, let’s take the head home.” That’s why when you see those exhibits at the exhibition venues, sometimes the antique exhibition places are full of illegal items, which are very expensive. Sometimes I see only half a statue with the other half ruined. Have you seen those? They were brought back for exhibition and sold dearly. Or perhaps a head, or a hand like that. That’s the way it was. Though it just came from Myanmar, why was there only one head? Because it was stolen.
Sometimes archaeologists go there. It’s OK to dig something out because the unearthed items become the country’s property or international property anyway. No one can take it. But people unlawfully steal and take them home, and sell them when they’re bored with it. Or they use them as displays. Sometimes they’re displayed in the bathroom and the toilet, or by the door as door gods. People in Myanmar or Thailand highly respect the Buddha. They believe the statues are the Buddha. That’s why they don’t like to see that. It makes them sad. As a result, they became strict after that and forbade Buddha statues to be sold abroad. Buddha statues were unsellable.
But later I managed to buy two statues as big as myself. But I had to go to Thailand to buy them, and I got them for a high price via lots of administrative procedures. And they were new. I couldn’t get any old ones. But I was content with the new ones. I didn’t try to buy antiques. I was very devout then, and was so happy to be able to get a Buddha statue. Oh, two statues at the same time. Wow, what a fortune! I was so happy, so happy. But I couldn’t take them abroad immediately. I had to trust them, pay them first, and then leave the statues with them, not knowing when they’d make the delivery, while praying to Quan Yin Bodhisattva. Eventually, the delivery was made. They were new, but they did some vintage treatment and made them look old. They were also quite beautiful.
Why am I talking about this? Yeah. I went there to see the broken Buddhas, with no heads, no hands. And the trip was so tough. What if now you go to see the ones intact? Back then no one scolded me or beat me. I got myself beaten up for some reason. There were wounds here and there. Wow, my whole body was sore. And I had to take the horse(-people) cart to go there. My heart ached so much when riding the horse cart, seeing the horse(-people) painstakingly working so hard. The sun was scorching. We could hardly walk ourselves, let alone the horse(-people) carrying us. And they wanted to make money so more than ten people squeezed in the small cart. And the horse(-people) kept running and running and running while being whipped from behind. In my eyes, this world was really so painful, so painful. I felt uneasy seeing that. I just sat there. There was nothing I could do. I kept feeling so bad there that I was about to cry. But if I hadn’t taken the cart, the owner couldn’t have made money and his horse(-people) would have been hungry. Either way was not good. And there were no other vehicles. I felt so bad either way.
And the journey was long; it was inconvenient to go there on foot. We only had one week. If we had gone on foot, it would have taken us two weeks to get there. From the station to the City of Ten Thousand Buddhas, it takes about two weeks on foot. And I wasn’t in any position to complain. I mean, considering my walking ability level, the heat, and that I hadn’t eaten for a week. Well, even if I ate once or twice, it was nothing. Toast was all I had. Only if I could find a clean place was I able to eat. And it had to be vegan. Where could I find vegan food? You would think that in Myanmar, with so many Buddhists, and so many monks, there must be vegan food available – but no. Every temple I went to, people there were gnawing on chicken(-people) legs. Wow, so big. Or pig(-people), anything, you name it. There were both pig(-people) and chicken(-people) legs. Just looking at it would make you feel sick, let alone eating anything there. It really was like that. That was why I barely ate anything for the entire week. My body was already very, very weak. And it was unbearably hot at the time. The sun was scorching, and I was ill. I was vomiting because I was sick, feeling uncomfortable and weak, and I could barely walk. Everything was uncomfortable, not good.
Even under those conditions, I still managed to see those headless, incomplete Buddha statues; I was so happy. Yeah, even that also counted as suffering and torment. So sometimes when we go to see wooden Buddha statues, we have to go through all that, let alone if we want to see a living Buddha. Of course, sometimes we are tormented a little mentally. Or when our karma finds us, certain situations happen that make us feel tormented. But in fact, it’s all just illusion. Trivial stuff. Nothing big. Only the body and the mind get tormented, not the soul. It doesn’t suffer. Sometimes a little suffering cleanses our soul. Being forced a bit is actually good. Sometimes you see that we’re working under pressure. Every time we want to meditate more, we have to go back to work, or time runs out, then we feel kind of forced like being bullied a little. But actually, it’s in these situations that we meditate better. If every day you just enjoy pleasures comfortably, and meditate whenever you feel like it, I’m afraid you wouldn’t be able to meditate well at all. I’m telling you the truth. Don’t fantasize too much about going into retreat or things like that. That’s delusion.
Yes! For example, there’s a story that I’ve told you. A man rode a horse(-person) to… There’s a kind of wheel that can turn the water. Do you know it? Waterwheel. (Waterwheel.) Waterwheel. The waterwheel is always turning; that’s how we get water, right? (Yes.) That’s how the ancient system worked. So we would divert the water to our homes or wherever we needed it. The man rode his horse(-person) there to let the horse(-person) drink some water. But when the horse(-person) got closer and heard the sound of the water wheel, “koko, kiko, kiko,” he was scared and ran away. He wouldn’t drink the water. Then the owner of the horse(-person) asked the man who was taking care of the waterwheel to stop the wheel for a while, so that his horse(-person) wouldn’t hear the sound, and could drink and leave. But as soon as the wheel stopped, no water came. So the horse(-person) could not drink. The rider said, “OK. You can turn the wheel again.” Once the wheel started moving, the horse(-person) ran away again. Then the man, taking care of the wheel said, “You should force your horse(-person) to drink the water now, because once the sound stops, the water also stops. Either you let him drink now, or don’t drink at all.” That’s how it is.
Only when we have no time to meditate, then we actually want to meditate more. When our lives are too comfortable, it’s like living in Heaven. The Heavenly realm is a difficult place to practice. Because there’s no goal, no motive for us to practice spiritually. Only when we’re yearning, when we feel hungry, does the food taste delicious. If you have too much, you develop the rich people’s problem: you can’t enjoy or finish anything. You’ve all heard about those kings and high officials who have no appetite, and can eat only when socializing. Kings often have poor appetite. Maybe I’m also like that now. I can’t eat because of the “illness of the rich.” Too many things to eat. Even when people make offerings to me, and even though I share them with you, in my heart, I know that I can have food any time, I can have any food I want. That’s why I don’t make demands. Back in the day, though, I could enjoy anything I ate. When I first became a nun or went seeking the Tao, I had no money. Wow, even a piece of (vegan) chocolate, I would cherish it dearly. And now, I don’t even care to look at it! Once I get it, I share it right away, Can’t wait to share it. I can’t bear looking at it, not to mention eating it. Truly it’s like that.
When I was in India, sometimes I’d be thinking of that one piece of (vegan) cookie for the whole week. I offered all my money to others, the abbot here, and the master of the abbot there. Wherever I went and saw any enlightened Master, I offered money immediately, without even considering my own body, which had not become a Buddha yet. My body was always making noise. One day it asked for (vegan) chocolate, knowing I didn’t have any; next day it asked for Indian ladoos. And then vegan barfi. Ah? (Vegan kheer.) Vegan kheer. It demanded things which I couldn’t afford at all. It was no use scolding it.
And now, I don’t want to eat anything. Even though sometimes I eat with you, actually, I have no appetite. I could eat, but just mechanically, just to nourish and take care of my body. It also works. Otherwise, I don’t enjoy eating. Very rarely do I enjoy what I eat. Maybe once a week? No, maybe once a month. Or once every two or three months. Just one day when I really enjoy the food. Still, it’s not like before. When I was in primary or high school, I’d grab anything to eat, everything tasted delicious. Really, I could eat anything back then. These days, like now, you see me drinking tea and eating things – I don’t enjoy the taste at all. I’m telling you honestly. I’m just eating along with you; even if it’s bland, it’s fine.
Photo Caption: Each Being Has a Different Beauty
