The Bodhisattva

A bodhisattva is anyone who is motivated by compassion and seeks enlightenment not only for themselves but also for others.

The bodhisattva I met today was a 28 year old Indonesian guy named Made (pronounced MAH-day). Skinny as a piece of bamboo and good-looking in that wiry, St. Francis of Assisi, "I sure could use a cheeseburger" sort of way that's so en vogue amongst the spiritually enlightened, he was sitting under a tree reading a book.

I immediately thought of the story of Buddha, who achieved enlightenment while fasting and meditating for 49 days beneath a bodhi tree. But judging from the statues I’ve seen, Buddha, like Elvis, must have eaten more than a few peanut butter and banana sammiches in his later years.

I stopped to ask him directions to a scuba dive shop I was looking for, and we struck up a conversation. After asking my name, he inquired where I was from, and when I told him America, his expression grew serious and he stroked the six wispy hairs on his chin.

“May I ask you one question?”

“Of course!” I said as I sat down next to him and crossed my legs, wondering what this grave matter might be.

“Is Canada in America?”

I tried to explain as concisely as possible that both the United States and Canada share a continent called North America, but that when people say “America” they’re usually referring to the country and not the continent…and that Canada is a separate country altogether. I didn’t mention that Canadians are much less likely to be loud and obnoxious or involved in a conflict than Americans. Unless you're playing ice hockey. Think about it…how many Canadians have you met that you didn’t like?

I asked why he was curious about America’s neighbor to the north. He told me he was moving to Canada to work.

“What kind of work?” I inquired.

“Hard work.”

As it turns out, Made, who doesn’t weigh as much as an axe handle, is moving to the Great White North to work in the timber industry. I just couldn’t picture him exchanging his T-shirt, flip flops and tropical surroundings for a flannel shirt, wool cap and goose bumps. Not to mention wielding a chainsaw.

I asked him the name of the book he was reading. The English translation was “Sadness, Happiness and Silence.” The passage he was reading explained the notion that sadness is like taking vitamins. Encountering situations which upset us can actually strengthen our spiritual “immune system.”

I confided in Made I was having some really big challenges with the person I was traveling with at the moment. We’d only been together about a week and had already had several clashes and conflicts.

He asked me if my goal or intention for the relationship was clear before she joined me here in Bali. I admitted that I hadn’t given it a lot of thought.

“Your mistake” was Made’s succinct response.

“But she's pushing ALL my buttons!”

“Those are your attachments” said Made, the truth of his observation whacking me in the forehead with the force of a wooden kitchen spoon. “If you feel happy or sad because of another person,” Made went on to explain, “then your happiness resides outside yourself, and you are dependent upon that person for your sense of well-being.”

Amen, brother.

Just then, another guy came walking down the sidewalk. He was muscular, covered in tribal tattoos and sporting a gold necklace and bracelets, a New York Yankees baseball cap and pink tinted Ray Ban aviator sunglasses. A hipster.

He spoke a few words to Made in Balinese, then sat down next to us.

“Are you guys friends?” I asked.

“All Balinese are friends!” he grinned.

I appreciated the sentiment, and it fit in nicely with the conversation Made and I were having. But I could feel the peace and quiet connection I felt slipping away as this uninvited third wheel barged in on our conversation.

“My name’s John” I said, extending my hand. “What’s yours?”

“Made” he replied as he crushed my hand with his vise-like grip. “I work at dive shop. You like scuba dive? I make you special price.” Made #2 insisted I come with him to the dive shop immediately. Eager for him to leave, I politely declined, telling him that I was enjoying my conversation with Made #1 and that I’d meet him at the dive shop shortly.

He stayed.

And he pulled out a brochure and began describing the various dive packages. I couldn’t help but laugh to myself. Here was a guy who was the complete opposite of Made #1 in his appearance and demeanor. A mirror image. With all the subtlety of a railroad spike, reality burst my little bubble of contentment.

Made #1 told me about a meditation class he’d been attending at a Buddhist monastery and invited me to accompany him. I took down his number, told him I’d call him and walked the rest of the way down the beach with Made #2.

When I returned a few minutes later, the bodhisattva was gone. I wondered if I'd dreamt the entire thing. As soon as I got back to my hotel I told my travel companion about my encounter with this mystical being.

“We should totally go to the meditation thing tonight!” she exclaimed. Gritting my teeth at the prospect of having to share my new found friend, I called Made and arranged a time for the three of us to meet.

As 6:30 rolled around, my pesky expectations and attachments came bubbling up again. I heard myself asking my friend if she would mind dressing more modestly since we were going to a monastery. I feared that people would be offended by her sexy short shorts and tank top, and that I would be guilty by association. And as I offered my unsolicited advice about her wardrobe, she informed me that she had already planned to change clothes. Busted.

We went down to the street and waited. And waited. After half an hour, I left a note at the front desk in case he showed up, and we went to dinner. No meditation. No monastery. Just me and my maddening thoughts. And my friend, who, despite my resistance, was proving to be every bit as much a teacher as the bodhisattva. It dawned on me that her perennial enthusiasm, joyfulness, open-mindedness, sense of humor and free spirit were exactly the traits I aspire to.

Made told me some other things during our brief encounter that afternoon....that his girlfriend was pregnant and had left her family so they wouldn’t find out. That he didn’t love her and didn’t want to marry her. That he was going half way around the world and wasn’t sure he could support her and the baby because he wanted to send money to his own family who were very poor.

And after agreeing to meet me, he stood me up.

Turns out bodhisattvas are humans too...just like the rest of us.