I LOOKED FOR JOY
That time I tried to meet a Buddhist monk! And what I learned along the way.
Dear readers, this week’s offering is a sister to my last, I LOOKED FOR BEAUTY. Thank you for being here, however it works for you. I appreciate your notes! I love when you say hi and share your stories in the comments, please do! We can keep each other company during these times. xx Alexa
PS. I have a spot opening up in August to work with me 1:1. Click here to book a call and learn more.
A Buddhist teacher I study with recently reminded us that the most enlightened lamas she’s met are also the silliest. I don’t know any lamas personally, but this reminded me of the always-laughing Buddhist monk at the hospital I was mildly obsessed with when my son, Lou was in treatment for cancer.
Let me explain.
Unlike Matthew the chaplain — who showed up like the sun every morning to play Legos and shoot the shit with us — I couldn’t pin the monk down.
Sometimes it felt like he was avoiding me!
The elevator doors would close just before I could hop in. I’d hear his warm laughter down the hallway, only to be pulled away by rounds or Lou needing something. Once, I spotted him and his robes across the street leaving Dunkin’ Donuts and I nearly ran into traffic trying to wave him down.
It was like Where’s Waldo.
There’s the monk hailing a cab! There he is at the halal truck!
Was I the only one seeing the monk?
Was there even a hospital monk, or had I totally lost my mind?
Like so many of the subplots I clung to during Lou’s treatment (many of which I’ve shared with you!), this charade lasted the whole way through. I was determined to befriend the monk. I was like Winona Ryder in Mermaids, enamored with the nuns…
Show me The Way!
Sometimes I’d sit in the hospital meditation room, hoping the monk would walk in. I know it’s probably sounding like I had a massive crush on him — I do get some pretty weird crushes— but it wasn’t like that.
“Do you know how I can get to the monk?” I asked Rita, the massage therapist.
I asked Jean-Marie, the overly tanned nurse manager if she knew anything about my Mystery Man.
“He’s just not that into you!” Francesca in Room 905 joked.
Undeterred, I asked Rosalinda from housekeeping, who offered to take me to her Catholic Church.
But I wasn’t looking to confess anything.
I wanted permission to laugh, too.
I wanted to learn how to move through the unthinkable with a smile on my face…and what that smile actually meant?
No, the monk and I clearly weren’t meant to meet.
But — maybe that was exactly the point.
I’m sure if I actually had some face time with him I would have clammed up like Winona Ryder with the nuns.
When I think back to that time, I can still hear his infectious chuckles. Rumbling through the halls, where everything was terrible, yet…
He was laughing, still.
In the years since, I’ve become a Buddhist.
I’m deeply devoted to studying the Dharma, though I try not to take myself too seriously. I’ve read my fair share of tales where the eager student is sent on a wild goose chase by the teacher — as I was sent running through the hospital halls…
Wisdom is never just given.
But I have learned that joy is contagious and free.
A MEDITATION
May the joy I find today ripple out and benefit those who need it most. Like laughter, like waves.
Feel free to share your heart in the comments. And my apologies to said monk (and the whole cast of hospital characters) for my being such a weirdo way back when. Years later, I’m obviously learning from you still.
xx Alexa
Thank you. Walking with my dad while he's in hospice and looking for laughter and silliness woven in with the solomn and sacred. Thank you for your work.
Despite the frustrations and sadness inherent with my rare disease, it has given me a new appreciation for laughter. Bonus points for dark humor! It's the ultimately coping mechanism.