I used to live in a small village in Northern New Mexico. It was nestled in the Sangre de Cristo mountains, and it was plagued with heroine. Our small village sat between two communities that were often raided by the police in the middle of the night.Several Buddhist Monks that I knew fromThailand were on a road trip, and they decided to come visit me.
When they arrived, it was wonderful. We talked,laughed and did Yoga. They then blessed my house, and the chanting vibrated through the entire village.
The next morning I decided to take them for a walk. I wanted to take them to the Post Office to visit my friend, but I knew they needed to go to the Plaza. I knew that could get me into a lot of trouble, so I looked towards the Post Office and walked towards the Plaza. At the Plaza, all of the villagers were watching us, and whenever I would turn towards them, they would hide in an alley or behind an adobe house. We started playing a game with a bamboo ball, and I of course got hurt. I started to bleed, andall of the monks started to laugh. They said that they do this so you don't become attached to your pain, to your suffering. We then started playing again when I noticed one of the major drug dealers from Truchas standing in the corner of the Plaza. He was glaring at me with such fury that I began to tremble. I backed up as I felt him hitting me with his rage, and in my head I kept hearing him yell at me, "That is my church!" Finally he said it out loud, and Phra Ajahn said, "Yes, it is! It is such a beautiful Church. I wish I could go in and see it. Please tell me about it," and with that the entire energy of the Plaza changed. The monks were sharing fruit from Thailand with everyone, exchanging addresses , and everyone was out in the Plaza talking and laughing...the way a Plaza is meant to be....
This is the day I caught a glimpse of who Buddha is.
Buddha was within the drug dealer...because his fury opened the door for loving kindness to enter.
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