The one-shoe thief

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• The cats and the building sand

  In brief: Bodhinyana is covered in gravel, so the monastery's cats treat any pile of sand as a luxury loo, burying their business in it. The day…

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  I remember the cats in our monastery. We got a couple of cats, and where they like pooing is in sand because if you come to our monastery, the Bodhinyana monastery, down in Serpentine, you know, in there there's gravel. Imagine the cat trying to sort of dig a hole in there, in gravel, to sort of, to do its business. So if it finds any sands somewhere, of course, that's marvellous, that's like a luxury loo for a cat. So it digs under the sand, and does it its stuff and buries afterwards. And the next day when I was mixing cement with that sand, (laughter) you get all the cat poo. You have to take it out. That's happened yesterday. So... but you can't blame the cat. That's just cats being cats. So, yeah, it's suffering having to take out bits of cat poo from the sand before you make mortar. But, you can blame the cat, that just adds mental arrow of suffering, getting angry at somebody.

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• Who left the hammer out?

  In brief: Newly abbot and very strict, Ajahn Brahm finds a donated hammer rusting in the grass at Bodhinyana. He gathers the monks and scolds them…

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  One of my famous mistakes was, oh this is so embarrassing, but there was this one case many years ago in our monastery down at Serpentine. I was the abbot, I'd only just taken over from the previous monk Ajahn Jagaro, so and I was trying to do the best thing, and try to make sure our monks were really trained. And for those of you who don't know the way that the monastery is supported. You know, we don't have any cash as monks but people offer the things which we need, whether it's robes, whether it's glass of water, or glasses for my eyes, or whether it's the tools to build the monastery, whether it's the bricks to build that monastery, whatever. And because everything which we have as a monk is donated, even this robe I wear, was donated, don’t buy it yourself. I was taught to really respect everything which you are given. Even my robe, you know, I tore it on the aircraft a couple of weeks ago, so you don't just throw it away, just put a patch on it. Even my bag has got heaps of patches on it. Even though you get a new one, no no, patch it, because this comes from the generosity of all our supporters. We really want to make these things last as long as possible out of respect. So you can imagine what I felt when I was walking through Serpentine monastery and I saw a hammer lying in the grass, which was going rusty. Now obviously someone had left that hammer out there for quite a while, because you know, it had the orange rust on it. And I thought that's not acceptable, because someone, someone had saved some money up and brought a hammer to give it to the monks, to help build our monastery so you can come there and we can live there. So I was going to give a talk that evening and so I got all the monks together and instead of giving a talk on the subject I thought I was talk on, I talked on “looking after these things”. Now, all of the stuff which you are given monks comes from hard-working laypeople, and not everyone is rich, these ordinary people, some people are actually just on pensions and they still come and help and you must respect those people and their generosity. And you've not allowed to leave thing out in the garden to get rusty as if they're worth nothing. Yeah you never bought it but you got to respect these things. I was really tough on the monks, you know, not like I am now really laid it in. Actually the monks were all sitting dead straight. You know what it's like when you tell somebody off. Sitting dead straight and the colour was drained from their faces because I really hammering it with the hammer. And I didn't mean to say that, sorry, and when I finished the talk, you know, okay I gave them a hard time, but it wasn't that hard and I really thought that one of the monks, you know, the monk responsible put their hand up and say it was them. And no one would admit it, and that was the most disappointing thing of all. Okay leaving the hammer, that was a bad thing but not actually confessing and acknowledging and owning up, now that actually really hurt me. And actually I left that hall feeling very miserable and I thought that what type of monks am i living with? or maybe did I sort of shout at them too much that they wouldn't admit it? it was, actually only when I got out the hall, I actually understood why no monk admitted that they left the hammer there because I suddenly remembered who had actually left the hammer out there. It was me. I'd left it out there a few days ago. I meant it to come and collect it and put it away but I've totally forgot about it. Now fortunately, it was only when I scolded everybody else that I remembered who it was. And I had to go back in the hall, I said sit down again I've got something to say. It was me who left the hammer there. It’s very embarrassing but very good fun because it showed that even the monk said I make mistakes as well, I do stupid things. Now did I feel embarrassed? Really embarrassed about that? No, I thought wow this is another story I could use on a Friday night.

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• The mangy dog who tried to run away

  In brief: A dog with mange suffers terrible itching and blames the village, so runs off to the forest — still itchy. It tries the pond, the shade,…

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  There's one of Ajahn Chah's favourite stories and this actually comes from an old story in the Buddhist commentary. Once there was a dog and the dog had mange. And the dog's skin was so itchy, no matter if it scratched it, the mange, the skin disease got worse. That's why sometimes in poor countries you see dogs with no hair. So this mangy dog was just having such a lot of suffering and so he decided to run away from the village and live in the forest. So he went in the forest but still had the suffering there. So he went actually under water in the pond but still his back itched. So then he went under the shade of a tree, then out in the sun, then under a rock. Wherever that dog went it was always suffering until it realised it wasn't the village's fault, it wasn't the other dogs. It wasn't the forest or the shade or the sun or the rock's fault. It was actually carrying around the mange inside of itself.

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• “In the building trade we call it a feature”

  In brief: After Ajahn Brahm tells the two-bad-bricks story at the Cancer Support Association, a builder reassures him professionals make the same…

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  Once when I was teaching in Cancer Support Association over in Cottesloe, they're still over there. Teaching...teaching that story because sometimes going through chemotherapy and radiation therapy can really cause a lot of depression. So I told that and yeah you got cancer but there's many other things happening in your life. Look at all the parts of the body which haven't got cancer. There's two bad bricks there, two bad tumours, what about the other parts which are beautiful, which are healthy? Look at that, it actually takes away a lot of fear. And anyway I told that, one of these builders came up afterwards and he said Ajahn Brahm please don't be upset you made two mistakes when you're laying bricks, professional builders do the same, he said. But then he said I'll tell you a secret, and I've told his secret to millions of people...internationally. He said...don't tell me your secrets, they'll be on YouTube next day...[LAUGHTER]. He said, in the building industry where we make a mistake like that we call it a feature. We call it a feature and we charge our clients an extra few thousand dollars for it.

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