Dr. Krishna's Anger

A miserable, old woman visits the good doctor this morning. Her physical complains are real as the list of medical problems is long. Her pain has brought her back to him and he looks at the knee that is red, swollen and stiff. It isn't just the pain that makes her miserable, however, it is the litany of curses she seems to need to share at the clinic. Dr. Krishna can work professionally without becoming involved in the words of a patient: through the years his mindfulness has probably maintained his sanity ... if not that, then at least his compassionate demeanour.

"Those monstrous neighbours make so much noise ... That grocer man steals from me each time i visit his stall ... The little children choke the roads with their horrible games and screams and shouts ... no one has a thought or care for the old and dying," she spews on and on and on. Finally, she asks the doctor, to no one, "How am i supposed to show wisdom and compassion to my neighbour, as those so-called wise men in silken robes and plush chairs demand me, when i suffer so?"

Laying the warm compress to the leg, Dr. Krishna sighs. With his most professional tone of voice, slightly angry, warning, he stands, looks her in the eyes and speaks, as if writing out a prescription: How to sustain compassion for your monstrous neighbours? How to sustain kindness to cheats and fools and reckless children? Though your body may have complains, the disease is in your thoughts, my good woman. You pity yourself because you are alone. You weep for that which is lost. You grumble because you suffer both pain and fear.

She looks amazed. Then outraged. Trying to stand, Dr. Krishna holds the bad leg and states that he is not finished yet. Putting on the ointment as quickly as he dares, he finishes his advice. "See everyone you meet as the Son of Man. See that person as a fully awakened one. A teacher. A saint."

"Those thieves at the market?" she squawks.

"See that everyone you meet is your mother or father, that they are your son or daughter. Know this as a fact. They are not who you think they are. Draw them in. Embrace them in your thoughts. Smile. Respect their choices in life, however opposite to your own. Respect them, because you know the Truth, you see the True and you live in the Truth," he states matter-of-factly as he binds up the knee with gauze.

"But those noisy brats in the streets are not my kin," she complains with watering eyes.

"Each and every one of these people, whoever you meet, in whatever circumstance, this person is a gift, holy, a great teacher, you will treat him will deference and tenderness," his voice softens as he applies the elastic gauze.

"But i have been suffering for so many years, they do not see me. No one cares," she murmurs.

"Pain is forgotten. Love is remembered. Do as i say and reap the greatest rewards in life, among which is your own freedom and independent joy. Do these things with diligence and awareness and your suffering shall be less, my good woman. You shall live with more peace."

As if struck by a forceful blow, the slightly stunned woman nods in thanks and walks silently from his office. Dr. Krishna tells her to come back in three days so that he can look at the knee. She only nods as she exits. The sigh is deep, yet fulfilling, and slowly the stern doctor begins to chuckle as he readies the room for the next patient. 

The Holy Man Visits

"Good morning, sir. How is your spirit and energy? How is your health?"

Dr. Krishna always smiles when he gets a visit from the holy man from the mountain. The wiry little fellow came down to the village once a year to revere the holy men who have come before him and to tend their shrines at the village's holy sites. Then after ten days, he would climb back up into the misty forests for another year. The honourable wise one never did mention why he stopped at the good doctor's clinic each year, but he gratefully accepted the tea and cake with noble politeness and gratitude.

While sitting in the early morning sunshine, they enjoy silence, sipping the tea, nibbling the sweet cake. When finished, the near naked hermit of the forest stretches his legs, claps his hands several times around his torso, yawns fiercely and cracks his neck, left then right. Then he clears his throat, preparing it for use, as though it is rarely used for speech.

"While there is jealousy and rivalry among these people, they are of the flesh, and walking according to the manner of men. For them, the food of wisdom i prepare to share with them is easy, sweet like this cake, comforting food, essential food."

"Not medical jargon, rather layman's words. Yes, i know what you men, my friend," answers Dr. Krishna.

"They have developed bad habits, blindly following their lusts, passions, fears and aversions. They know not to escape a burning house, so distracted are they," he smiles with warmth for the passersby, as if he was their grandfather, "Words that are alien and thoughts that confound the mind will not motivate them to flee the house before the roof comes down; i do the best i can in the time i have to show them to safety".

Dr. Krishna nods. He feels the same. He knows they all must be saved, but one can only lead the way for another, point the way, walk the way as a good example, and some day, in some glorious future time, all men shall be together again, as it was in the beginning, is now and for ever.

They finish their break and both men stand. They press palms, bow and wish the other peace. As he picks up his walking stick and stands gazing up the narrow side road leading out of the village and back up the mountain, he laughs gently. "Remember, young man, you never travel alone in this world, because God is with us, of us, in us, before and behind us: know this truth with diligence and joyful awareness and the walking is easy. Life is easy."

Politicians

The political season has begun, observes the doctor from the doorway of his clinic. Full streets, noise, placards, pushing and shoving and promising, nothing ever truly good has come of politics, he sighs. Nothing lasting or sustainable, he remembers only the efforts of few to gain power for their season, to hold on to it like drowning men, to assert their own private dreams on a world that turns oblivious to their wants. On the sidelines, he sees the poor and downtrodden, still poor, still downtrodden. Will they vote? he asks himself. Even under great kings, the poor and sick and vulnerable had been swept left and right by the winds of might.

Yet the good doctor knows of other kings, whose rule is not dependent on others. Dr. Krishna knows of wise teachers who teach without expectation. These great men are anointed by Truth in love for each and every individual, especially those in need of glad tidings, the poor and downtrodden. These great men bring freedom from all chains, all tortures, all suffering, not by showing men with wine, women and song, but by awakening them, letting them share in a wisdom and compassion that is timeless, boundless and indescribable in human words, a Truth that can only be seen through ones efforts and faith. The oppressed go free. Those who listen and work diligently to know this experience go free. Though many are sceptic, Dr. Krishna knows that once dedicated to the Way, life changes, the world changes and God is close at hand. Politicians of all sorts promise wealth and health, safety and freedom, all temporal havens from the storms that churn a man's attentions. Politicians build sand castles. They are the blind willing to lead the blind. They cannot heal when they do not understand the ills of mankind.

Dr. Krishna laughs as he closes his door. He knows all too well that politicians stake their power on their many friends and family, those bought, those promised. Nee, a great king or wise man who truly comes to liberate mankind is not accepted in his own native place. That man is not a politician.

 

A Filthy Mind

It has been a busy day. Dr. Krishna has seen maybe 23 patients suffering a variety of diseases, ailments and dubious complaints. At the end of the day, he now enjoys closing 'shop' (as he calls his humble medical office), retreating to the back room and setting a little pot of tea. Beside maintaining his own rapports, he stares through the dirty window, over the sheet metal roofing of his neighbour's, beyond, beyond, to a lone eucalyptus tree.
Virtually all his patients, he reflects, believe their woes to originate from their lack of health. 'If only i were healthy', they would say, 'Then i would be happy'. Dr. Krishna is not by nature a cynical man, but once and a while he allows himself a gentle smile and sigh in private: once healthy, it would be riches, once rich it would be power, once powerful it would be security. For most of his patients the world is not a perfect place.
Dr. Krishna sips his tea. All illness and suffering is in the mind, he knows. Sure the body get sick, just as a body heals. Sure a body is painful, but all pain subsides. It is the mind that woes, fights, screams, demands pity and attention and churns up rage, depression, shock, all the suffering that men know.
One patient of his he shall never forget. She had cancer, yet smiled at the world like a newborn. The good doctor knew that at that moment in her life she had been unstained by the world: Clean and pure and bright, the world hummed and sparkled and she accepted the world for what it was. Like a clear stream, she did not let her mind stir up the muddy bottom. The water flowed undisturbed. Her mind observed. Her will and motivation and concentration, the doctor smiles, are remarkable, a model for how all could live without suffering. And this sweet, dying woman told him as much:

My saviour said to his followers, at a time when they doubted, at a time when they were weak, at a time when their minds grasped for any surety, even incorrect truths and old habits, my saviour reminded them that, "Nothing that enters one from outside can defile that person; but the things that come out from within are what defile." At first i never truly understood what was written in his words, but now, at the end of my life, i think i understand. I have encouraged all whom i know to see the wisdom in these words and to live by these words. Because from within people, from their minds and hearts, from their emotions and actions, come conflict, bitterness, greed and aversion. The mind generates the filth that blinds wisdom and creates all the sins that keep us apart, lost on our own selfish paths, doomed to suffer in our own minds and drag all around us down like drowning men. The world is perfect. This is paradise, if only we could see it that way! Nothing in this world can truly make us suffer, not even my cancer: though i might know pain, i will not suffer poisonous words, ruinous deeds, bitter thoughts and lies upon lies upon lies which is the true cancer.

Dr. Krishna had had a cup of tea with this wonderful woman, the only time he had ever shared his little private space with another patient. He had felt honoured to know her. And since that time many years ago, a great weight had fallen from his shoulders. His eyes sparkled like a clear stream, unchurned. His voice resounded like crisp morning air, free from the smoke of cooking fires. Ahh, the doctor sips his tea now, the world has never been so perfect, he smiles, offering up a thanks.