The Surprising Latitude of Fate
Solitude is a place
resplendent with discovery,
a journey worth the adventure.
It took Carmelo a while to realize that he was actually free of prison walls. The caged and institutional existence of what is absurdly called a "correctional facility" gradually numbs the very spirit of a person. Prisons are the hallmarks of the corruption of an age. Prisons are filled with the poor, the disenfranchised, the desperate, the hopeless and the mentally ill. They tell a profound tale of the failure of society to take care of its own. It is a mirror to the perversity and malice of the human community.
While the solitude of his prison life had turned his mind inward and was immensely beneficial to him in that light, a vital part of his nature had been torn from him by the one-dimensional nature of that existence. He had forgotten about his own capacity for joy and elation. He had been strangely seduced by the droning and relentless monotony of prison life.
While on board a train making its way westward, he felt a transformation taking place. He was awakened to the unadulterated caress of sunlight upon his face. He became acutely aware of the passengers around him: the laughter of children and the sweet Buddha-like expression of an infant held by his mother. He suddenly realized that he was indeed back among the living. He had been given a reprieve not so much from hell but from the emptiness of a coerced and prolonged waking sleep.
The Open Heart Buddhist Monastery was supported by a generous endowment from the estate of Harold Priest representing one of the wealthiest families in the region. It was nestled in the hills overlooking
Eventually, a tall stately figure arrived at the gate. He was dressed in a long white robe, had a dense and vividly white beard and a head that was completely shaven. "Carmelo?" he inquired. Carmelo nodded, and the monk opened the gate. “I’m David, we have been expecting you, welcome,” he said. Carmelo found the sound of his voice and his tone remarkably comforting. They walked along a narrow path with tall well manicured hedges on both sides. Carmelo noticed how light footed the monk was when he moved; it almost seemed like he was gliding on a cushion of air. As they were walking, the monk spoke, "I hope your journey was pleasant. It must be a difficult transition for you."
"Yes, yes it is," Carmelo answered. He felt exceedingly tired. Despite the monk’s hospitality, he had not the faintest idea as to how he should behave. So he remained silent and moved with a stiff and self-conscious gait. They entered through the big wooden doors of the main house. The front room was enormous and natural lighting poured in through its many windows. The room had many books and monks were seated throughout, reading quietly. He was led into a small, austere waiting room that was at the top of a large flight of stairs. Carmelo was struck by the simplicity of the surroundings. Everything about him had an unmistakable lightness and airiness about it.
"Please make yourself comfortable," David said, "Damien will see you shortly."
Carmelo looked around, and was filled with contrary emotions. Part of him felt strangely comfortable in this environment, the other was wondering if he was, in fact, doing the right thing. Nevertheless, he tried to make himself as comfortable as possible, and was determined to see where this path would lead him. He assumed his wait would be a short one, but hours passed and still there was no sign of his host.
Finally, Damien came into the room. He was short in stature and broad in the chest. His features were gaunt, which seemed incongruous with the rest of him. He had a long thin nose and small thin lips barely visible through his dense grey beard. His eyes were brown, and they were the most extraordinary eyes that Carmelo had ever seen. They seemed infinitely deep and brilliant. Yet, they expressed such a sense of warmth and tranquility that Carmelo felt instantly comfortable in Damien's presence despite his initial annoyance at having been kept waiting for so long.
An impish grin came over Damien's face as he extended his right hand in greeting. "Welcome Carmelo to our humble place. We have been expecting you."
"I’m very grateful that you decided to see me. I'm uncertain and a bit scared, but the silence doesn’t bother me, I’m quite used to it. What do you want me to do? Should I find lodgings elsewhere while you consider my application?"
"You are welcome to stay here as long as you like. You should not make any decisions even if we decide to accept you; until, you learn what we do here and, more importantly, how we live. We will not ask any commitment of you; until, you understand these things fully. We ask that you stay with us for one month before any decision is made. Does that meet with your approval?"
"Yes, certainly," Carmelo responded without hesitation.
"Good, I will bring you to Timothy and he will give you a tour and help you begin your adjustment to our ways."
“Aren’t you going to ask me any questions about myself? About my past?”
“Time is the best teacher and will reveal everything.”
Damien then arose from his chair and escorted Carmelo across a lush courtyard to the monastery library where Timothy was the head librarian. Timothy's appearance was in stark contrast to Damien. Timothy was bright and airy. He was balding at the top of his head, and the hair around the fringes was exceedingly curly. Carmelo marveled at the contrasts. Timothy had a mischievous air about him. He could not detect the attitude or aura of a scholar.
"Well Carmelo," he said, "you think you want to join us. We'll see, we'll see. This will be quite a change for you I'd gather. It's kind of dull around here, nothing much happens. We work, we meditate, we eat, and we sleep; that's about it. You have to enjoy solitude. I do most of the time. But sometimes, well that's another matter.
"Come, let me show you around. This, of course, is the library. There are many many books here. Some are extremely old.”
Carmelo sighed, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many books in one place!”
“See that old fellow in the corner?" Timothy was pointing to a very wizened old man with a strikingly huge and flowing beard sitting hunched over some manuscript. Carmelo nodded. "That’s Lazarus. He's been here for sixty-five years. He barely speaks. He’s our resident scholar. Any question you have about matters of God, he's the one to ask. Don't expect him to be pleasant, he's a bit surly. They tell me that his attitude is not a product of his age, but has been with him as long as anyone can remember. If you have any questions about books, or if you’re looking for something in particular, come and see me. That’s what I’m here for. You must be tired; let me show you to your quarters."
They walked out of the library into the central courtyard once again. Carmelo was struck by the exquisite condition of all the gardens he had seen; they were obviously well cared for with an attention to detail that was inspiring. They walked along a path lined with maple trees. "I'll show you where you'll be sleeping." He took Carmelo to the dormitory. Inside the building there were long narrow hallways and along the corridors were many tiny cubicles, each containing a solitary bed and night stand. It was appropriately austere. They walked about halfway down the second floor corridor before they stopped. "This will be your room," Timothy said. "Why don't you get settled in and we'll continue later. It's time for our mid-morning meditation."
During Carmelo's first night, he found it quite ironic that he had gone from a prison furnished by the State to a kind of prison of his own choosing. His sleep was very restless. He found that he was genuinely anxious. The night was cold and unforgiving. He was alone with himself in a way he never experienced before, for here he had no captors to blame for his fate. In spite of this, he was convinced that he had made the right choice. He understood that he needed to confront the darkness and ugliness of his soul, if he was ever to liberate himself from his horrific past. His mind filled up with vivid aching memories of the evil that he had done, and of the pain he had inflicted on others. His dreams were littered with frightful mutilated corpses dancing in a river of their own blood. He heard the screams of both the living and the dead. Somehow this place exerted a strange and unexpected influence on him.
In one particularly remarkable dream sequence, he was in a dark cave and standing beneath a great water wheel. The perimeter of this wheel was covered with impaled bodies all baring grievous wounds. He was turning the wheel and in doing so, blood constantly spilled on him. The blood fell into his eyes burning them and made him blind. These images were so vivid that he woke up in a state of panic. He was sweating profusely and his skin felt cold and clammy. Anxiety gripped him in its unforgiving vice. He sat up in the middle of his dread and tried to quiet his mind by concentrating on his breath. In so doing, he gradually calmed himself down. It was this experience that reminded him of how much work needed to be done and why he had taken himself to a monastery. He realized it was his one great hope of redeeming himself. He was thankful that he had chosen this path and intended to see it through.
Ten years went by. These years moved steadily forward, during which time he had made great personal progress. At first, he did not think that he could endure what seemed like an endless stream of loneliness and inaction. But, ever so gradually, the rituals and practice of meditation, work and enforced solitude made his mind even more receptive to learning then when he first arrived. The books he read, from such authors as Thomas Merton, Franz Kafka, Thomas Wolf, Herman Hesse and Honore Balzac, deepened his understanding of humans, and the human condition. The inspirational works of such diverse thinkers as the Dalai Lama and Eric Adler broadened his spiritual dimension. He was encouraged to make painful excursions into the treacherous terrain of his own psyche. Sometimes while within the depths of these internal journeys, Carmelo found himself in an extreme state of unrest and at the very brink of despair. It was at such moments that he learned the benefits of the discipline that only prolonged meditation and solitude can bring. It was a long and arduous journey he had been on. Such forays into the self are revealing and often treacherous, for once truth is embraced it can become quite painful. He had experienced dramatic cycles of joy and despair many times. All this inner work, however, was beginning to show benefit. At last, Carmelo was beginning to experience the exquisite feeling of true inner peace. As a matter of fact, he took these skills to a state of high art. He could reach such levels of profound tranquility that others in the community often came to him seeking advice about their own practice, especially the younger members.
Paul Johnson was drawn to Carmelo ever since he saw him meditating in the gardens. Paul was tall, exceedingly thin and frail looking, presenting a pale and almost vaporous apparition that mirrored his persona. He was a delicate creature, whose sensibilities were incompatible with the competitive world he grew up in. He was an only son of a Navy career officer who was constantly frustrated by the fact that he had a son whom he was unable to mold into a reliable image of himself. Paul’s spirit was badly mutilated by his father’s authoritarian behavior and unbending personality. It was after his father’s sudden death that Paul decided to seek a life of meditation and seclusion. When he saw Carmelo, he was instantly and inexplicably drawn to him. Paul gradually began to regard Carmelo much like the father he never had. Carmelo was initially flattered by all this attention. He never dreamed that he would ever be a teacher, or that the role would have suited him.
"Carmelo," Paul began as they were seated together for evening meal, "you seem to have found peace. I want to learn from you how to get to that place."
Carmelo was surprised by this comment. He smiled. "Paul, there are moments when I am truly at peace as you say, but at other times I am as distracted as anyone. I practice as often as I can, and I try not to get discouraged. It's not easy."
"Will you teach me?" Paul asked.
"No I won't teach you, but you are free to learn from me. Besides, the person that you see here came from a very chaotic and violent past. I still have much to learn."
Paul was puzzled by this answer. As a young man, however, he was full of exuberance and would not be dissuaded. For months, Carmelo felt that he had inherited a shadow that followed him everywhere. On many occasions, Paul sorely tested his patience. The young man had an insatiable and adolescent need to know and understand everything without the skills or desire to work for that knowledge. He was a symptom of his age, where the techniques required for self-discipline were discarded for a behavior driven by the incessant desire for instant gratification.
Paul tried to emulate Carmelo when he meditated. It left him terribly frustrated, for he could sit only moments at a time before becoming very restless. On one occasion, he grew so incensed by his own apparent inability that he yelled, "How the hell can you do this. I’m hopeless." He suddenly began to weep.
Carmelo made no effort to console him, and did not even budge from his meditative posture. After a long while, he opened his eyes and said, "Paul, there is no easy route to meditation. It takes practice, practice and more practice. When you see me, you see the result of years of effort and discipline. Do not give up or lose hope."
In this way, Carmelo came to have a disciple. It made him feel uneasy. He felt that he had such a long way to go in the training himself. On account of these concerns, he asked for an audience with Damien. An audience was eventually granted.
“Damien, Paul looks up to me and somehow has become my devotee. I don't feel I am ready for this. I have so very much to learn myself. Should I discourage him?"
Damien did not answer immediately. He kept his gaze fixed upon Carmelo. It was a deep and calming glance that aroused in Carmelo perceptions that he had not recognized before. "I believe, you know the answer," he said. "Paul can be your teacher as well, just as you are teaching me as we sit here. There are many paths open to you. The right path for you to choose will soon become clear. ‘But how can I find it?’ you ask. Yet you know what my answer would be, don't you?"
Carmelo nodded, "Yes, meditation."
Damien said nothing. He smiled and his eyes grew more luminous. He quietly rose as a signal that the interview was over.
Weeks went by as Carmelo used his training to let his deeper self reveal the answers to his questions. One night while he was in the midst of deep meditation, he had a vision. In this vision, he was swimming against the current in a swiftly moving river. He had made significant progress, and was passing a small boy on the shoreline, who was frantically waving to him. He did not want to stop, but did so anyway. The boy was filled with idle chatter and this annoyed him no end. Suddenly, he noticed that in the river, where he had just been swimming, a pair of deadly viperous snakes swam by. The young boy extended his hand and showed him a path that led from the shoreline through the verdant forest. Carmelo on recounting this vision immediately understood its meaning. Paul would go with him on the next phase of his journey.
“Paul,” Carmelo began as they were standing next to each other working in the garden, “I will soon be leaving this place.”
“Leaving!” Paul gasped. “Why?”
“It’s time for me to go into the world and devote myself to those in need; I have chosen a life of service. I have taken from others most of my life. It’s time to give something back.”
“Where will you go?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
“I must go with you. Take me with you, please!”
Carmelo marveled at how clearly he had visualized this conversation. He always had the ability to see beneath the obvious and visualize what truly motivates others, but his new calling brought this into acute focus. “Of course,” he said without hesitation. Paul was elated.
