I mentioned in my last post how the kindness and generosity of the people in my life helped move me into the next phase of my life following the tipi burning down, and I felt that was important enough for its own post. With no money to move and feeling rather pinched by my circumstances, I posted a rather candid statement on my Facebook page discussing what options I had, given my circumstances. Between dropping out of school, giving up my dog, and even possibly moving back to Montana (where I grew up), it never occurred to me to ask for money.
I’ve never been in any position where I needed to ask for money from people, but when my friends saw my need, a couple insisted I give them information to my PayPal account, or to start a crowd funding account so they could donate money to help get me out of my situation. The idea of asking for money stirred a deep sense of shame that threatened to cave my chest in. I’m awkward at accepting offers for people to pay for a meal, how the hell was I going to cope with taking money? Not even just a few bucks, but hundreds of dollars to cover moving expenses!
I was fretting over this on my way home from an evening class. I stopped in a convenience store to get a snack so I wouldn’t have to go to bed with an empty stomach. Now that I was back in a tent, I didn’t have the means to cook a meal, nor did I want to burden anyone else on the farm by asking to eat their food. When I came out from the store, a young man jogged up to me and asked me which direction I was heading. I asked if he needed a ride, and he explained that he and his girlfriend had been hitch hiking from Salem, which was over 20 miles away. Their vehicle broke down and they couldn’t get a hold of any friends who would be available to come pick them up. The worst of it, he said, was about their cat, who had been home without food since early the day before. “Of course, I can give y’all a ride. Hop in.”
As we drove to their place, the young man rode in the truck bed with their little dog, and the girlfriend sat next to me. Her name was Jennifer, and she was espousing the streak of bad luck they had been having over the last few weeks. We laughed at our poorly circumstances, but my passenger also couldn’t help expressing when she felt the most gratitude and how important that was to keeping things going. It was great being able to relate to one another, and by the time we arrived to their destination, the woman was clearly in a more cheerful mood. The couple thanked me repeatedly for the help, and I bid them better luck as they walked down the road. On my way home I pulled over by an open field and watched the occasional headlight as it passed by on the highway.
Being able to help someone else when I was in need myself me a deep sense of peace. Sitting there in the dark, snacking on my candy bar, I found myself thinking about a story of Siddhartha Buddha I had once read. After the buddha had started his community of fellow practitioners (a sangha as it’s called), he urged his men to take an empty bowl and beg for their food in the village. He also told them to ask if the person feeding them if they would like to hear a teaching of Buddhism. If the Buddha was ever asked why it was good for the monks to do this, he would simply say the begging was a gift to the world.
I didn’t understand this. How is asking for the hard-earned resources of a stranger serving them in any way? How is relying on others a gift to them? Then I remembered the requests from friends to give me money. One of them sent me a private message expressing that they wanted to help; they were happy to do so. Truth be told, anytime I’m I a situation to help someone out, I’m happy to do it as well. It’s no burden to me to give a few dollars when I have them to help someone who has none, and it’s feels incredibly good to do so. Knowing I made a small, positive impact in someone’s life has always assured me a sense of joy and peace. Hell, if I see a newt crossing the road, I find it feels equally as good to ensure he gets to where he wants to go safely as if I was helping an elderly man across the road.
That’s when I understood. Being vulnerable is a gift to others. Being the opportunity for others to feel they are making a positive change in the world is a humbling blessing. Buddha would say it inspires the very heart of what Buddhists call our inherent “Buddha Nature”, or our compassionate nature.
Being vulnerable was a gift to me as well. Besides getting the money to move so I could stay in school, I also had to swallow my pride and accept the help from others. The fact is my ego makes me a hypocrite. To say I’m such a good and strong person that I can offer help but would never need it is rather arrogant. If I think that way, then inherently I must believe that bad things can’t happen to good, strong people. That’s not a fair stance to take. Bad things happen to good people, and there should be no shame about that. Like I said, we’re only human, and that is a beautiful thing to be fi we let it be so.
This kind of experience is cyclic in nature. Ever since I’ve moved into my place, I’ve been determined to make myself as useful a person as I can. I feel I need to pay the kindness forward the same as I feel the need to eat. The compassion given is of little use when it cannot be given continually so.
That’s why this realization of vulnerability is the greatest gift I was given in all this, and I couldn’t have been given it without the kind words and actions of everyone one who helped me. If you’re reading this, thank you, thank you, thank you, a million times…thank you. There’s not a day that goes by where I don’t look at my place, and think of everyone one of you who got me here.
But don’t be mistaken, that’s not the only thing I learned. The winter proved to be a bit of a trial as well, and next week I’ll share some of what I went through over the winter.