Two funny Buddhist stories:
The first one is from Joel Makower, a writer for World Changing, “The Dalai Lama and the Rivers of Tibet”.
As I mentioned, my wife, Randy, is curating a show in which more than 75 artists from around the world are creating artworks that depict the Dalai Lama, his values, and his world. One of those artists is Sylvie Fleury, a Swiss installation artist. For the exhibition, Fleury wanted to use a process called kirlian photography to portray the Dalai Lama’s aura. Toward that goal, she asked Randy to procure something that belonged to the Dalai Lama that she could use to photograph the aura. So, Randy worked through channels to do that.
Soon thereafter, the shoes arrived. The Dalai Lama’s office had sent an old pair of brown Dexter shoes, size 7-1/2.
When they arrived at our home, the first notable thing was the shoebox in which they had been packed. The brand of the shoebox: Easy Spirit. Clearly, someone back at headquarters was having a little fun with this.
As we sat around admiring the shoes, it was tempting to want to try them on — how many of us can say we have walked in the Dalai Lama’s shoes? But we resisted the temptation — after all, we didn’t want to mess with the aura. (Besides, the shoes wouldn’t have fit: My feet are a full size larger.)
And so the Dexters were dutifully repacked for shipment to the artist in Switzerland. Since I was the next one heading out the door that day, I was tasked with delivering them to Fedex. And because this was an international shipment, there was some paperwork involved.
The Fedex clerk asked, “What’s in the box?”
“A pair of shoes,” I replied.
“Are they a gift?”
“No. Just a pair of shoes.”
She persisted. “Anything special about them?”
“Nope.”
“Do they have any special value? Are they fragile or breakable?”
“No,” I replied. “They’re just a pair of shoes.”
And all the time I wanted to tell her: “THEY’RE THE DALAI LAMA’S SHOES!”
The second from home. A friend came over and gave me half a book — a paperback entitled, Daily Wisdom – 365 Buddhist Inspirations. Yes, half a book. He turned to page 180 (he didn’t want to shortchange me, and ripped the binding.
“Do you want the front half or the back half?”
“Does it matter?”
“No, not really.”
We then had dueling Buddhist wisdom; first he read a page and then I.
(Cue the banjoes from Deliverance.)
