CHAPTER 25
“The battle to overcome obstacles is part of living, Cass. Overcome fear through your own courage.”
Cass was still talking to Ajahn Lee on the steps of the temple. “I do not understand enough, sir. Sometimes I think I know nothing at all.”
“Understanding is not sudden like a bolt of lightning. Understanding is gradual. The long road to understanding is like a sandy beach, a gradual slope that may go on for many miles until the sudden drop into the deep ocean. It’s self-discipline—dhamma-vinaya. It is self-training and slow progression, with the final understanding coming only after a long stretch.
“Dhamma is the truth about the way things really are. The natural principles that govern existence: life and death. To study the dhamma is dhamma-savana and to contemplate dhamma is dhamma-vicaya. There is so much to learn, Cass.”
Cass nodded. “I need to go home, sir. But I’m afraid they will find me first, maybe kill me or take me back.”
“You have already made one brave step, so take another. There is an old Japanese story about a snail who was trying to climb Mount Fuji. He was very slow, and the mountain was very high. But he knew that if he persevered, he could make it. Remember the snail, Cass.”
“But did the snail die before he reached the top?” Cass asked.
Ajahn Lee smiled. “Perhaps. I don’t know. It’s a very old story, so he’s probably dead from old age now. The important thing to remember is that his story is still alive.”
“I don’t want to die just yet, sir.”
“Nor me,” Ajahn Lee admitted. “But death is only the ending of one life. The end of one life means the beginning of others. The Christian words ‘Ashes to ashes, dust to dust’ is accurate enough to a point, but it is then spoiled by discussions about a soul departing and a God that sits in judgement and hands out tickets to a better or a worse afterlife. Buddhists talk of reincarnation, and those that don’t understand think Buddhists expect to come back as animals like dogs or cats or crocodiles, but what we mean is that matter is never destroyed. So, upon death, the body breaks down and is reconstituted in other forms.”
Cass nodded. He’d never looked on it like that. But it seemed far more likely than the Imam’s explanation of angels and virgins.
“Buddhism is a way of life, Cass. Its aim is not to indoctrinate or persuade. It is like a bee that collects nectar and departs without harming the flower or its colour or its perfume. The Buddha was once asked what he had gained from sitting and thinking and apparently doing nothing for so long—meditating as we now call it. His reply was ‘It is not what I have gained but what I have lost. I have lost anger, anxiety, depression, insecurity, fear of old age, sickness, and death.’ Do you understand that, Cass?”
“Yes.”
“I am constantly on the move,” Ajahn Lee said. “Like me, you must also move on. Watch, think, remember, and learn but do not forget.”
He stood up. “Come with me,” he said, and Cass followed him across the temple grounds to his bungalow. “Wait here.” He was gone for such a long time that Cass wondered if he’d forgotten him, but finally, he emerged with a bag. Again, he took time to settle cross-legged on the ground.
Then he looked at Cass, nodded, and in his quiet, calm way, said, “Help will come through your own courage, Cass, but everyone must listen to advice. Here is my advice to you. At the first gong tomorrow, leave the temple. Head north towards Bangkok. Travel on foot or by the generosity of others. In Bangkok, go to your embassy and explain your situation. In this bag is a letter. It is written in Thai and signed by me and requests the Ajahn in charge of any temple you pass to help you.”
Cass took a deep breath. “Thank you, sir,” he said, and just as he’d seen others do, he went onto his knees, bowed three times at the feet of Ajahn Lee, and stood.
“Remember,” Ajahn Lee said, “the way forward is not written in the sky but in your heart.”
So Cass returned to his hut to call Kevin on Jon’s phone and to wait for the first gong of sunrise.