Election Madness...

I just finished reading an editorial by Frank Bruni in which he lamented the fate of America, regardless of the election’s outcome.  Particularly painful to him was the deep-seated distrust and hatred the whole election cycle has laid bare—on both sides of the political spectrum.

When I was done with the article (published Sunday, but here in Myanmar it’s already Monday morning) I heard the sound of bells through the living room window.  When I looked for their source, I was met by the sight of a single file line of barefoot monks walking past our flat.  There must have been eighty or ninety of them, each carrying the covered bowl meant to hold their daily ration of rice and vegetables.  

Somehow, I was given over to a feeling of hope.  While Bruni laments a loss of civility and order, I saw below my window those very ideals incarnate.  And I’m reminded of a simple truth which transcends cultures and borders alike: mostly, people are interested in the welfare of other people.  

It can certainly seem otherwise at times, especially when one considers the rhetoric of politics. But here in one of the poorest countries on earth walks a significant number of souls who, where it not for the kindness of strangers, would dry up and blow away. The only thing separating them from their God are the various hands reaching out to drop a bit of sustenance into their bowls.    

The Dalai Lama recently reflected on circumstances politic as they apply to so much of the first world: a pulling back from engagement with other countries, tightening of borders, limits on trade, and he offered up a solution which we all hold dear—though we may lose sight of it now and again.  His was a reminder of the power inherent in selfless acts of giving.  Finding one’s way through each day not by focusing on those things we lack, but on the essential needs of all people, and our role in helping to bring those needs to rest.  

The Buddha famously rose above earthly need and desire.  Which is good work if you can get it.   Most of us fall somewhat short of that ideal.  Like, way short.  Yet we rightfully emulate the effort.  Here in South East Asia, there’s a common practice of leaving money at temples, and even applying gold leaf to the images of the Buddha.  My first impression was one of slight disgust, in which I questioned how the Man himself would regard all that gold piled on his likeness while children shook with hunger.  

But I’ve come to see the offerings in a different light, one which serves as a reminder of the larger mission: to freely dispense of those items which represent self aggrandizement in the service of a higher calling, especially as it applies to the needs of the living.

I don’t think it takes a religion to bring about good.  It’s as much a part of us as our recognition of beauty.  (Truth remains a bit more slippery.)  Still, we sure do like to suit up for battle and test our mettle against the dual threats of otherness and unknown.  And even though they’re essentially ghosts, the power they wield is significant.  Especially when we focus so hard on them.