Normally our Tibetan Buddhist practice is led by our lama but he is on an extended retreat. We have a wonderful monk temporarily filling in, but he is not able to lead all our practices so, being a democratic sangha, we allow the more “senior” students to lead.
A few months ago I was asked to lead. Needless to say, I was extremely nervous about this opportunity despite the fact that I was given a pretty thorough lesson plan to follow. All was going well until we got to the dharma discussion. We were discussing nonviolence and meditation. Fully into the swing of things I was going on about how the meditation we had just done would bring many benefits to the practitioners — “It’s like killing two birds with one stone!” I happily proclaimed.
Last night was the weekly Beginners’ Night practice and the center had several newcomers checking out what it was like. The student leader had captured the audience’s attention and all eyes were riveted on her. She began to talk about how if we did not show compassion for each other the world would decline and suffering would arise. To illustrate, she then began talking about a mother who decapitated her baby and ate its brains. There was a great deal of squirming while in lotus posture.
At a yoga class the teacher was out sick and had called a student to lead the class. She began with a five minute lecture on why it is OK to fart while doing yoga.
During our Tibetan language class the lama was pronouncing words and having us repeat in unison after him. We were doing fine until we got to the word for student. We all repeated what we had heard him say and the monk turned bright red and began laughing hysterically. Apparently the minute error in our pronunciation caused us to say a very bad word. Khenpo refused to reveal what we had said. So now we all have to avoid using the word for “student” in our speaking.
Buddhism has survived for centuries. I hope there is good karma in trying one’s best.
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It has been three months since I was liberated from the stress of actually having an income. Life is so much simpler in many ways — like this afternoon my daughter and I were on our way home from a job fair when she suggested we stop for ice cream. “I have three dollars. How much do you have?” “Nothing . . . we can share one.” See — a mother/daughter bonding experience handed to us. In the olden days of employment I would have had seven dollars and we would blithely have purchased two cones and sat in silence as we ate. Sharing one cone gave us lots of opportunity to chat — “Hey! Don”t hog the whole thing!”
But Linshaolin has gotten off topic (no, actually, Linshaolin has started off topic) . . . Alli and I, both unemployed went to a job fair together. She informed me of the chance to go to a job fair just as I was applying a final coat of Nantucket Mist nail varnish. “When would we have to leave?” I queried. “Right now.” So with fingers splayed and held in front of me so that I could blow on them (men, the art of the manicure is an ancient and complex activity — some of which defies explanation. This includes the ritual of exhaling on one’s fingers) I tucked a stack of resumes in my sophisticated black portfolio and tucked myself into the passenger seat of my car (I am not allowed to drive because it makes my daughter nervous). After missing one turn off and going the wrong way up a one-way street we finally found the career center. It was easy to spot. There were hundreds of people in suits carrying sophisticated black portfolios and looking overheated.
Once inside I was given a form to fill out. At best my handwriting is illegible. With fingers held out rigidly straight it is impossible. I handed in the form to a nice lady who glanced at it and said “Thank you Norma, please follow the crowd into the job fair.” I said “The name is not Norma, it is Linshaolin!” The nice lady said “It is important to the success of the job hunt to make a good first impression” I followed the crowd and headed to a table with a sign that said Air Force. The Air Force was looking for project managers. Oh good. I went up to the woman sitting at the table and gave my spiel. “Hi, I am Linshaolin, a PMI-certified project manager, and I have a strong interest in your program management opening.” The woman sighed. “This is a mistake.” I thought to myself that, indeed, it probably was a mistake — I don’t think I would make it through boot camp. She went on, “The Air Force was not scheduled for today. The brochure is wrong. But if you want to drive to Rhode Island there is a job fair today where they are scheduled. I took a pass on that and went to the back of a line sixteen people deep to talk with a recruiter for a defence contractor.
While waiting I touched my nails to my lip a couple of times to check on their “doneness.” My fingers were getting tired of being splayed and people were leaving me a wide berth as if I were Edward Scissorhands. I chatted with a few ladies in line. One of them was a project manager too. Before being laid off she managed complex IT projects. She was glowing with confidence — “I just got a job offer! Doing what? Well it is to manage golf ball production.” I was about to congratulate her when it was my turn at the recruiter station. I opened my mouth. I recruiter stopped me. “Ya know what’s best? It is best that you go to our web site and apply on line. All I am looking for is key words so do that hon, ok? Next.” Well that was twenty minutes well spent.
Confident that my nails were dry I flexed my fingers and in doing so left a swash of Nantucket Mist across the front of my blouse. I forgot myself and said a bad word rather loudly and had to slink away into the crowd. Safely on new turf I went up to a publishing company table and gave the recruiter my resume. She gave it the thirty second review and said “Your resume is quite impressive. You should apply.” I told her I had applied to several job openings at her company and had never heard anything back. She explained that the company was actually six or seven companies and she was only representing one of them. I felt her staring at my chest and looked down. The nail varnish was quite a nice shade. “Do you like it? I asked. “It is Nantucket Mist by OPI.” We talked about doing nails for awhile and then I moved on to a Dish Network table.
Deciding I was not a strong candidate for satellite dish installation I searched for my daughter whose college education cost me about $150,000. She was applying for a data entry position. We left and chatted about whether we should take money out of the bank and buy roast beef sandwiches. Deciding no, we drove home chatting happily and sharing our cone. I asked her if she had any more gum. “No, Mom, and I am not sharing mine with you!”
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