When I go to the dentist for a filling I asked to be numbed, no hesitation and no doubt about it, ‘Novocaine, please‘. The pain of dental work or more accurately the fear of the pain has dogged me since childhood. Somebody from the congregation has booked himself and his wife in for dental work tomorrow; that’s Valentines Day. “Have you any advice on dealing with the fear and the pain”. My fleeting thought was to suggest they go out for a meal instead! And then we talked, all I had to offer was empathy.

Our conversation stimulated memories of dentists past. A Buddhist dentist whose assistant, also a Buddhist, tried to convince me not to have Novocaine. “It’s only pain, it will pass”! Teaching I was not ready to hear right then. And the Irish dentist, with a jewel set into his front tooth. In his care, while deep in the horror of a wisdom tooth extraction I heard, “everybody’s got to hurt, some times” coming from the sound system. It was such corny good timing, I had to restrain from laughing out loud. One can’t plan for those moments.

It’s natural enough to want to avoid pain, to be put out of ones misery. After that extraction I suffered the worst pain of my life. I remember thinking a deliberate blow to the head could not come too soon. It was that bad and pain killers had already failed me. Years latter I was told that “strong men” faint from having a ‘dry socket’ which is what I, unknowingly, was suffering from.

Physical extremity can be a great teacher simply because there is no getting away from it. Dental pain, so close to ones brain, seems to crush all reasoning power too. I eventually took stock, canceled a trip to the monastery and spent a week at our Hermitage in Wales. I had decided I’d just have to ‘sit it out’ and soon after that decision the pain started to subside; or was it the fear that subsided?

It is the day that Buddhist around the world remember the Buddha’s Parinirvana, sometimes referred to as the Buddha’s Full and Final Enlightenment. During Morning Service we remembered the Buddha’s death by reciting the offertory traditionally used at the end of the full ceremony which is performed in our larger temples. See also to-days BBC News item.

The Buddha’s Parinirvana.
A carving from Gandhara, 2-3rd century.
Image recently released into the public domain.

I seem to be a bit wistful this evening, perhaps it’s contemplating death that’s done it. When in the presence of somebody who has recently died, when the body has ceased to have physical life, there remains a sense of vibrant ‘life’ that is unmistakable. At once there is both sadness and a great sense of celebration. In images of the Buddha’s Parinirvana my Master would point out the person who is depicted crying. Reminding us that we have feelings and it is OK to be seen to grieve. If I remember rightly, along with the grieving disciple she would point out the sleeping cat! Anybody remember Rev. Master talking about the cat?

Go here if you want to read a translation of the Mahaparinivana Sutra, The Great Discourse on the Total Unbinding by Thanissaro Bhikkhu.

In Yorkshire.

I’d forgotten about this encounter with a penguin. It was one of those moments of intimacy that can’t be explained or adequately described. Life is full of them, when you notice.

Thanks to Iain Robinson for the photograph.

There is a natural longing to reach into the limitless blue sky, to rise up. Everybody, no matter how burdened at present, will know what I am talking about here. It is part of our make up and what causes beings to ask fundamental questions like, “who am I”? “what’s life for”? Children ask, teens ask, adults ask and sometimes an answer is heard. What makes the difference is the readiness to listen.

Adoration to all the Buddhas,
Adoration to the limitless Teaching,
Peace! Speak! Blaze! Up! Open!
To the glorious peaceful One,
For whom there is no disaster.
Hail! Hail! Hail!

I silently recite this verse when danger is imminent, for example when taking off or landing in a ‘plane. As the engines roar, the rivets pop and oblivion seems inevitable, ‘prayers is what you got left’.

For those who are taking to the skies in the next few days, have a good and safe flight.

Here is somebody who carried teaching received in the meditation hall out into the testing grounds of city driving. This letter is published with the permission of the author.

Dear Rev. Master Mugo,

The whole “driving as walking meditation” came up this morning, as a result of the recurring situation in city traffic of finding myself at a stoplight. I find long distance driving good meditation – especially in a vehicle with cruise control. The relaxed alertness you described is quite familiar since I do a lot of long trips. Driving in the city is problematic for me, though.

What I was referring to (in our conversation of yesterday) was learning to deal with the competitive tension I fall into at traffic lights. I have a lot of trouble with red lights. It’s to the point (in my efforts to refrain from racing away from lights) that if I’m coming up to an intersection where one lane is empty and the other lane has a car in it, I’ll switch lanes, if necessary, to avoid being in front at the “start line”.

I don’t know how I always seem to end up there on the start line. It certainly seems like it happens more often than pure random chance. It happened again first thing this morning – at the first light I got to on the way to work. This time, though, I had just been mulling over the walking meditation at our last retreat.

You had mentioned the idea that walking meditation could be translated as “walking with dignity”. Sitting at the stoplight, with the sports car in the lane beside me, it occurred to me that it might just be possible to treat driving the same way. A slightly different position of the hands (from walking to driving) perhaps, but the same “dignity”, focus and awareness.

The light turned green, and I drove away, trying to start off as I would my first step in a period of walking meditation. It worked pretty well. Perhaps it was my imagination, but the driver beside me seemed pretty relaxed too.

I’ve tried lots of ways of dealing with red lights. One senior monks approach, of just being willing to be in and observe the situation almost works. It’s a pretty slippery slope though – one quick impulse and I’m racing away from the light. I still don’t know what I’m afraid of “losing” or what I think I’m “gaining”, but it’s that kind of thing. At some point I hope I’ll recognize it, but meantime I’m going to work on my walking meditation, both in the zendo and while driving.

With bows,

Thanks! Thank you SO much for this. Driving with dignity; I will remember that when I next get behind the wheel. Mugo