Boing Boing points to a great photo-essay about Tibetan Buddhist Monks who build a mandalla out of sand grain by grain from dawn ’til dusk. Then when it’s finished they pour it into the river as “a demonstration of nonattachment to the material existence.” I wish I’d read about this a few weeks ago as it would really have helped me with a pointless argument I had in the front of a dump truck.
The was during the third week of my street cleaning adventure. Our driver was a Christian, but that wasn’t the problem. The problem was he was a born again Christian. Actually, it was probably more specific than that. The enormity of his faith had given him such self confidence that he felt able to “understand” other points of view while sticking to his own 100%. Which in itself is fine, but you have to bear in mind that he wasn’t intellectually that bright. (Common sense was a bit lacking too, but that’s another story).
So I’m spending my day with this very friendly guy, let’s call him Chris, who keeps wanting to get into what I would consider quite high-level discussions about some quite fundamental things, the sort of stuff I’d really enjoy tying myself up in knots over late at night with friends, wine and cigarettes. But not at 9.00am in a garbage waggon in Erdington. By this stage of the job I was quite comfortable with my work-chums, openly reading the Guardian and coming out with relatively big words like “semantics” (which I then had to explain when everyone looked at me funny, only to discover the concept of semantics is quite hard to explain, which is kinda ironic when you think about it), so this was bloody raw meat to me. Not only was this guy coming out with the most ill-thought out arguments, he was putting them forward as a cogent world view and actively inviting me to debate it with him. At first, out of politeness, I quietly fumed in the corner or gave noncommittal answers. Then, the day after I’d outlined my position on religion on this blog, Chris asked me if I believed in God. I gave him both the short answer, “No”, and the very long and involved answer. When I finished it was obvious he hadn’t taken any of it in at all, which was not too surprising, but maybe now he’d leave me alone.
The next day I went into the cafe for breakfast while Chris stayed in the cab with young Andy. When I came back he was doing the same thing with Andy only this time it was about smoking. They’d worked out how much Andy spent on fags in a year and come up with £600. If he were to put that money in front of Andy, pour lighter fluid over it and give him a match, would Andy burn it? Andy said no because then he’d be £1200 down, which was the right answer. Chris then asked me the same question. I said I’d burn it.
My argument was two-fold. Firstly I reckon it’d be conceptually interesting to burn a large amount of money, to eradicate its potential and free me from it’s tyranny. This was the slightly glib argument and I was obviously thinking of The K Foundation.
The second-fold was more personal. I know I’m capable of earning £1000 a month because I used to. Currently I’m earning no more than £600. So I’m choosing to waste £400 a month. If I were to receive that money I could set fire to it and be in the same situation I am now. Is there any difference between my not earning that money and my destroying it? I would say not.
But that money has a value. It can be spent on things or given to the needy. It’s a waste to burn it, a terrible, immoral waste. But I’m not wasting it, I’m sacrificing it. I’m making a conscious decision to go without, something that requires a lot more will power and self confidence that merely pocketing it. I’m in effect making a sacrifice.
Of course this didn’t compute. Maybe Chris didn’t need to make sacrifices because he knew Jesus had made the ultimate sacrifice on the cross, but I somehow doubt he made that connection. If he had’ve done I would have had some respect for him. But he didn’t and I made the incredibly amused Andy promise to thump me if I ever got riled by Chris again.
Anyway, go look at the Mandala construction/deconstruction photos – they’re quite lovely and inspiring.
Not to be too cynical, but I wonder how many american schools would be lining up to invite tibetan monks to extol the virtues of non-consumerism if tibet hadn’t been invaded by those nasty communist chinese? J Edgar Hoover would have them deported to Guantanemo Bay as un-american seditionist forces!
Oh, sand mandalas. They built one in the Ashmolean here, a ten-day mandala, and took it off to the Thames afterwards. I was at work so couldn’t see the destruction, but we dropped in a couple of times to watch the mandala in process. As it was part of an educational programme, they had some of the scoops, funnels, and sand available to play with, on little child-height blocks on the floor. I took away a fingerpress of saffron-coloured sand, loose in my pocket.
The Sand Mandala is lovely to look at. Your entry reminded me of something I once read about nomadic aborigines. They have ..or is it now, had..days of celebration, dress up, dance, make lovely things etc. When it is all over, they continue on their way, and there is nothing left behind; What they used came from and was returned to nature; just as will happen to our human bodies… so maybe it’s not a bad idea to get used to the transient and ever-changing nature of things, and try to rejoice in simply being.