I finally realised I didn't need to win

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• 'Joy at last to know there's no happiness in the world'

  In brief: A favourite image of Ajahn Chah's, which he used when visiting England about 25 years earlier: a statue in a monastery in southern…

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  the great image which I want to bring to you is an image which was one of the favorite images of my teacher Rena and I remember this image because I saw this on somebody's Shrine last week it was a picture of aenta my teacher when he visited England about 25 years ago and he was just explaining this teaching to some monks by using a statue which is in a monastery in the south of Thailand where there is this monk putting his hands up in absolute joy in Bliss fully enlightened and the caption is Joy at last to know there's no happiness in the world Joy at last to know there's no happiness in this world

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• “What's done is finished”

  In brief: A Thai abbot sends the builders home for the three-month rains retreat, leaving his new hall without a roof or windows and with timber and…

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  that is a wonderful story of this monk who was building his main hall in his Monastery and of course it takes a lot of time and effort to make a big building like that but it come to the time of the the rainy season the monsoon season in in Thailand as in most Buddhist countries when it comes to the wet season all the monkss go on Retreat we have a 3 month Retreat period and so the Abbot of this Monastery told the builders look we're all going to be meditating for the next three months and anyway it's going to be raining it's not the best time to build anyway all the builders you can go home and come back in 3 months so he sent all the builders away so a few days later a visitor came to the temple and they saw this whole incomplete and so just in general conversation with the Abba they asked when is your hall going to be finished and the Abba replied it is finished to which the visitor was quite stunned and said what do you mean it's finished the there's not a roof on it are you going to leave it like that there's no glass in the windows there's pieces of wood and old cement bangs all over the floor what do you mean it's finished to which the Abbot replied his Immortal words sir what's done is finished and after that the abber got up and went to meditate

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• The perfect Zen garden

  In brief: A young Japanese gardening monk makes the most admired garden in Japan. An old meditation monk climbs in early one morning and hides to…

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  Because one of the stories which I read many years ago and I think I retold it in one of my first books about the Japanese garden and the Zen master. Zen masters are usually really cool because they're totally um just uh almost off the planet in the way they do things. Totally un you can't understand them at first but they tell a very good message. And this Japanese master uh actually the young Japanese uh monk was a gardener and he made these amazing gardens and his garden was one of the most famous in the whole of Japan. People would come from all over to admire just the balance of his garden. You just took one look at it and it was wow really sort of was an amazing work of art. So this old old monk, an old meditation monk came early one morning, but the garden was closed. It was only supposed to be opened in the afternoon. [clears throat] But anyway, the old monk, he climbed over the the railings and hid behind the bushes. He wanted to find out the secret of the most perfect garden in the whole of Japan. And he waited. And then the gardening monk came out and he sat and meditated to prepare his mind just to get the clarity and the peace and the artistic balance in his own mind before he worked on the garden. And then he took these two big wicker baskets. In the middle of the garden was this very beautiful plum tree. And he went with those two baskets and picked up one by one every leaf or twig which had fallen the night before from the wind. And before putting them in the baskets, he would look at the little twig to see whether it had artistic merit. If it was the right shape or the right curvature, then he would put it in the good basket. If it was rubbish, he would put it in the rubbish basket. And the same with the leaves. Every leaf he picked up and examined it. And if he could make use of it, the right color, the right shape, he put it in the the good basket and the others in the rotten basket. It took him hours to clean up the garden of all the the leaves and twigs which had fallen the night before. A couple of hours. And then he stopped. He put the rubbish leaves on the compost and then he took tea. And after he took tea, he meditated for the most important part of the ceremony of the making the beautiful garden. He took the basket of beautiful leaves and flowers and not little twigs and he placed them one one by one in the garden in exactly the right place in exactly the correct orientation so that they balanced and the interconnectivity of the leaves and the twigs and the colors. Sometimes you'd have to pause and correct. He looked at it and he'd move a twig slightly. Yes, that's it. I don't know if you ever seen great artists at work, but sometimes great artists at work, we think they're just being being just [snorts] uh too too picky, but really great artists, they can see the big canvas of the garden and know exactly where things need to be just slightly changed. And after another couple of hours, he was finished and he admired his work. Most beautiful garden in the whole of Japan, he thought. And he was about to open the gate to let the visitors in. But then the old monk came out from behind the bush. And he said to the young gardening monk said, "I've been watching you all morning." and he said, "Your attention to detail is just so impressive. I've seen you just picking up all the bad leaves and the good leaves, separating them out and putting the good leaves." Look at that. That's amazing, George. Your artistic um taste and talent is incredible. He said, "Your garden," said the old monk, "is perfect." And at that word, almost. You could see the color drain from that gardening monk's face. So his lips start to quiver and he fell to his knees and he said to the old meditation monk, "Oh master, master, you've been sent by the Buddha himself to come and teach me how to make my garden even more perfect. Please instruct me. Please let your compassion flow. Please tell me your great wisdom. How can my garden be even more perfect?" And the old monks, by the way, never trust an old monk. He asked, he asked the old monk. And the old monk said, "Do you really want me to show you?" "Yes, please don't hold back your your great skill and wisdom." So the old monk stroed right into the middle of the garden, put his hands, he was old but still very strong around the plum tree and shook the hell out of it. Twigs, leaves fell all over the place, making a big mess of the garden. A whole morning's work destroyed. And that monk was so upset and angry. But imagine how he felt when the monk looked at his work with the the garden a big mess and then said, "Now that is perfect."

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• Two bad bricks in the wall

  In brief: Building the broke new monastery at Serpentine, the ex-physicist monk lays his first brick wall with painstaking perfectionism — then sees…

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  The story of the two bad bricks in the wall, twenty six years ago, twenty seven years ago when we moved to Serpentine to build that monastery down there we had no money, we were broke, and because... we owed money for the land, there were no buildings on that property. So I had to learn how to build. And I was theoretical physicist before, ok, in my head doing sums all day. Now I had to get out there and get my hands dirty and mix concrete and lay bricks and put on a roof and do plumbing. Everything we did. And even to this day, if any of you going into that main hall in our monastery, I am the builder. My name is on the building license for that. And it's still standing so that's pretty good. [LAUGHTER] So in particular, this story I had to learn how to lay bricks. Laying bricks was not a simple thing to do, it may look easy but it's so hard to get everything level. But, as most people would be I was a perfectionist. I had to make sure that brick was perfectly level before I went onto the next one. Sometimes one corner was high, you'd knock it down and another corner would go up. You knock that corner down then it would go out of line. You knock it back into line thinking it was finished, you notice one of the corners was high again. It was just one of those jobs which, where you couldn't get everything in the right place but you kept on trying until you got it. It took a long time but it didn't matter cause I wasn't being paid. So I could take however long I wanted. And when I finished that wall, that first brick wall, like anybody else you were proud, finished, you stood back to look at it and admire it, and it was only then when it was finished I noticed that two bricks were crooked. All the other bricks were straight, two bricks were crooked. So what would you do? What I did was try and scrape the mortar out so I could reset the bricks so they could be perfect. But the mortar was hard, you couldn't scrape it out. And the other monk who was with me at the time, Ajahn Jagaro, I asked him look can we afford, can we please afford some dynamite so I blow it up and start again? Bulldozer would do, push it over. Because...that spoiled the whole wall. Those two bad bricks, they ruined the whole thing. But we couldn't, I was stuck with it, we were too poor to do anything with it. So for three months, every time I went passed that wall I saw my mistakes and I felt so sad. I'd stuffed up. And the worst thing about stuffing up when you're building everybody could see it, you can't hide it. It's a big wall, out there in the open. So, every time there was a visitor, I would actually volunteer to take them around so I could, you know, take them somewhere else so they wouldn't see my mistakes. At night time I'd have nightmares about that wall. I would, I'd dream of it, because I'd really made a big mistake and everybody could see it. And it was three months, roughly, I'm not quite sure it's a long time ago now, about three months somebody else was with me and they saw that wall and they said that's a beautiful wall. And I just couldn't believe what I'd heard because for three months I'd been suffering so much with that wall and they said it's a beautiful wall. My first reaction was to ask them are you visually impaired, are you blind, did you leave your glasses in the car? Can't you see those two bad bricks, the crooked ones. And what they said next just changed much of the way I look at life and stopped a lot of inherent depression in myself. What they said was yes I can see the two bad bricks, but I can also see the nine hundred and ninety eight good bricks as well. And that really hit me, because I realised for three months I was blind. All I ever saw was my two mistakes and I just could not see all the beautiful perfect bricks which I had laid. And when that guy told me what about the nine hundred and ninety eight good bricks that was the first time in three months that I could actually see the bricks above, below, to the left and the right of my two mistakes. And I had to agree with the fellow, it was a beautiful wall, once I could see the whole picture.

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