Here, and nowhere, and now
View(s):“…..wrapt in a calm stillness…..”
We get a message from the Loku hamuduruwo, the Chief Priest of ‘our’ temple. He tells us that a monk from his temple would stop by our house on his alms round from the next day.
We are overjoyed. To make an offering to the Sangha through a monk on his alms-round is a rare privilege these days. The Loku hamuduruwo has offered to lodge student monks from Myanmar studying at the Pali and Buddhist University. They reciprocate by keeping the temple premises clean, asking for nothing more. As in the old days they go on alms-rounds in different directions. By going on alms-round the beggar-monk gives up attachment to food and accepts whatever is given, and he gives us, lay persons, a chance to give in the fullness of our hearts.
We are indeed privileged.
I still remember the impact the monk made on his round. It was not only we who were moved, but everybody going for work in the morning along our road. His presence was unexpected and gladly welcomed. People learned to wait for him, to make an offering. Some would come running up so that they would not miss him. A motor-cycle would skid to a halt, the rider dismount and pay his respects.
He brought a certain calmness to the neighbourhood and built a rapport among the regulars. Over a period of about five or six years, the monks who came on the alms-round changed. As one monk finished his course and went back to Myanmar he inducted another before he left. Altogether we had, I think, five monks: each one a distinct personality. Not long before COVID hit us, the last monk bade us farewell. There were none after him: the loss is ours.
We still remember the first monk. Very fair, head clean shaven, gaze fixed on the ground ahead of him, no expression in his eyes, ankle-length yellow robe worn in formal style, wrapt in a calm stillness.
We watch him come down the road, and all other movement seems to stop, but that is an illusion. He stops in front of our gate, facing us; and we are there with our offering. He does not look at us, accepting whatever is put into his bowl. He quietly chants the traditional thanks and blessings and quietly turns around. He is barefooted, but his feet look clean of road-dust. He is on uneven, sloping ground and with quiet concentration he places one foot backward, not reacting to any sharp stones, his foot accepting and making friends with the earth. His foot steadies, the weight of his body shifts till the weight is firmly borne by one foot. Then, with concentration, he raises the other foot and places it in the required position. No sign of discomfort, no change of expression. Totally Mindful: his whole being is focused on one step at a time. He is ‘Here’, and ‘Now’. It is awe-inspiring, this lesson in one-pointed-ness.
I watch this moment every morning participating in the act by proxy. But that is a fancy: I am only a spectator in what is no spectator sport. He goes back the way he came, stopping if someone approaches him, accepting the offering and murmuring his responses. And then, he is gone.
And we have had an opportunity to give with whole heart to the Sangha and, by the act of giving, receive more than we can understand.