Stumbling on the Eight-fold Path
The old lama, Gekko Rimpoche, emerged from meditation, opening his eyes to see a young man sitting before him.
"Guru, I have traveled all the way from America to study Tibetan Buddhism with you." The words burst from him before Gekko could greet him.
"Well, I don’t know, I am Tibetan but the Buddhism is just Buddhism. You could have probably stayed home and learned the same thing." he responded. "And what is your name?"
"Trevor."
"Huh, Tre-vor."
"And I already learned everything they could teach me in America. That’s why I’ve come all this way, to see if you can teach me more."
Gekko was thoughtful, "You know how to wash a robe, no soap?"
"No, Guru, is this a zen thing?"
Gekko smiled. "I think I can find something to teach you."
"I’m very grateful, very grateful, Guru."
"The tuition is steep, though," said Gekko.
"I’ll pay anything," Trevor assured him.
"You will. That is, you will?" The tuition would help to reduce the foreigner’s karma, he thought. "Hmm, well, let’s see, I’ll have to find some place for you to sleep."
"I have everything, Guru. I brought a tent, cooking gear, freeze dried food, water filter, antibiotics, a sleeping bag, enough clothes for a year, a solar-powered laptop with satellite connection–everything. I can set it up next to those campers across the stream."
"Campers?" Gekko asked. He must have been meditating longer than he thought. That happened sometimes.
"The ones with the cows," Trevor said, waving his hand.
"Oh, khampas, I don’t know if that’s a very good idea, you see..."
"Don’t worry, don’t worry, Guru," Trevor insisted, "I can take care of myself completely. I won’t be a burden at all."
"You’re sure?"
"Absolutely," Trevor assured him. "I’m completely prepared and very organized. I just need enlightenment."
Gekko thought a moment. "We’ll see what can be done about that," he told the young man. At least he finally had someone to wash his robe..., if he lasted. The cold water made the lama’s knuckles ache.
"Let’s start with teaching you to wash a robe."
"Great, I’m ready!"
"Good. Take that bundle, the stream is down at the bottom of the slope."
That night, Trevor fell into his sleeping bag after two packets of quickly heated, freeze dried, curried veg. He had spent the whole day doing the lama’s laundry, up and down the mountainside. The old man seemed to walk on the steep trail as if it were flat ground. Trevor didn’t dare complain, not after coming all this way, selling his condo, quitting his job and even taking a vow of chastity. But it hadn’t been very enlightening. Guru’s were like that, always throwing you off balance, he knew. Maybe he’d receive more Tantric-type instruction after he’d proven his dedication.
"Tre-vor!" It was the old lama’s voice. Trevor woke instantly, on alert for the mystical moment. He had read about how they would wake you in the night with impossible questions. In the dark, he could just make out his Guru’s outline.
"Tre-vor, look up."
"Yes, Guru."
"Well, what do you see?"
"I see you, Guru."
"Yes, yes, but what else do you see?"
Trevor thought, lying still. "I see the stars, Guru."
"Well, what does that tell you?"
"Um, well, it tells me that we are just a tiny pin-prick in the fabric of the world, Guru."
"And what else?"
"It tells me that the illusion of the world is vast and complex."
"And...?"
"It tells me that it will not rain. It tells me that the moon is in the last quarter. It tells me... Please enlighten me, Guru, what should it tell me?"
The old lama’s deep voice was patient as he said, "Ah, Tre-vor, the khampas have stolen your tent."