Two crooked bricks at the Chinese university

Related stories

• 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…

  Read full story▾▴

  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.

  Open story page·Watch this telling

• 20,000 to one: the husband who lied once

  In brief: After a talk in Malaysia a mathematics lecturer asks whether to divorce her husband because she discovered he lied. Ajahn Brahm does the…

  Read full story▾▴

  The classic tale was when I was teaching in Malaysia, and somebody asked me this question at the end of the talk. I have found out this morning my husband has lied to me. My husband has lied. I can't trust him anymore. Should I get divorced? She asked me whether she should get divorced. Quick I asked her what are you doing at this university. She was a lecturer on mathematics. So I saw an opportunity to answer her question, I asked how long have you been married, she said three years. I said let's do some statistics. Three years is maybe one thousand days. Lets say for the sake of this argument, let's assume that on average throughout your three years of marriage, your husband has said maybe twenty things to you every day, on average, which could be right, which could be wrong. So he's said twenty thousand statements to you since you've been married and now he's lied for the first time. The quantum probability theory on his past record, the next time he opens his mouth there is a twenty thousand to one chance he's telling the truth. What do you mean you can't trust him? [LAUGHTER] Isn't that pretty good odds, twenty thousand to one? If every time a politician opened their mouth with twenty thousand to one chance they're telling the truth, I'd vote for them, wouldn't you? They'd be trust worthy. But you can see what we've pointed out, that why is it that one lie, a real lie, they'd lied, why is that given so much prominence that everything else is totally forgotten and ignored? This is the stupidity of our human being which is just so fault finding and negative it hasn't got a balanced perspective on life. That lady wanted to destroy her marriage. Once I told her that story they stayed together.

  Open story page·Watch this telling

• Fifty strokes of the cat

  In brief: A new postulant confesses to secretly making an afternoon sandwich and, refusing Ajahn Brahm's gentle advice, insists on a penance or…

  Read full story▾▴

  is a story many years ago of one of the anagarikas one of the people in white who's trained to be a monk at Bodhinyana Monastery in Serpentine. When you become a monk you have to train for a minimum of two years beforehand, one year wearing white keeping eight precepts, the next year in brown keeping ten precepts, and afterwards after two years maybe you can ordained as a full monk. There was one young man, an Australian man who was starting his training as an anagarika, eight precepts. One of those precepts is you're not allowed to eat any solid food from noon until the dawn the following day, you can't eat in the afternoon or night time. So I was the abbot, one afternoon this new anagarika, a young man, came up to me and said, "I have something to confess, I've done a terrible crime. I know you're gonna probably throw me out of the monastery and not let me be a monk, because one afternoon I was hungry, I went into the kitchen with no one seeing me and made myself a sandwich." [laughter] And to him it was like some capital offense. And so what did I do? I told him, I said, "It doesn't matter, thank you for letting me know, now maybe eat some more food at lunchtime, you know before lunch when we have our meal, eat some more so you won't be hungry in the afternoon. If you are hungry you can have some cup of tea with some sugar, some fruit juice or some chocolate, so you don't have to eat in the afternoon. So it was a mistake, you admit it, have some strategies in place so it doesn't happen again. Okay, you can go now." This young man looked at me and said, "I'm sorry, that's not good enough." [laughter] He said, "If you don't punish me I will do it again." [laughter] "I need a penance." Because he knew himself, he spent all his life only being trained by punishment. He said, "If you let me go like that I'm sure one day I will do it again." So I had to think very quickly of a solution to that problem. As it was, I'd been reading a book, a very well-known Australian book called "Fatal Shore" by Robert Hughes, which was telling the early history of Australia. I got to that point about the convicts who were here in Australia, and the harsh punishments meted out to them. So I looked at that young man in white clothes with a bald head and I said, "If you want a punishment I will give you a traditional Australian penance... "50 strokes of the cat." This young man, his face went whiter than the clothes he was wearing. 'Cause he didn't know too much about Buddhism and he thought, "Oh, my god, Ajahn Brahm is gonna whip me, he's gonna lash me." [laughs] But then I told him what "50 strokes of the cat" means in a Buddhist monastery. We have three cats in our monastery, choose whichever one you want and stroke it 50 times, "there cat, there pussy ... three, four." Learn some compassion and kindness 'cause that's the only thing which will overcome your need for punishment and pain. It's because you don't know kindness and compassion that you think that fear is the only way to train you. I said, "We don't do fear, we do compassion and kindness."

  Open story page·Watch this telling

• Penance: a carrot for the rabbit

  In brief: A postulant who broke a minor precept is very upset with himself and asks for a penance. Ajahn Brahm tells him to take a carrot from the…

  Read full story▾▴

  a beautiful little wild rabbit at our Jhana Grove retreat centre turned up a few days ago. And one of the Anagarika's broken a little precept. And he's really upset about himself. And so I said, I'll give you a penance. So what's the penance? What do I have to do? There's a, there's a hungry rabbit over in Jhana Grove, go and take a carrot from the kitchen and go and give it to the rabbit. It's a wonderful little thing, a little wild rabbit is just hiding there. Because it's really hot in the forest. Next to the wall by the Japanese garden, those of you who know Jhana Grove, he's just been hanging out there to get away from the heat of the forest. And so just go out to him and just give him a carrot. And it's just so cute. And you know, even if you're a multiple murderer, it will soften you just seeing a little rabbit, just twitching its little face, and smelling the rabbit and then really getting into it. And apparently, he eats it really fast. It's a very guzzly rabbit.

  Open story page·Watch this telling