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Where the Buddha Meets the Road

Since beginning my effort of building loving, supportive Sanghas within Homeless Communities, I have been relatively successful.

The folks on the street have accepted me and have been open to integrating meditation into their lives. We rather quickly went from doing our practice in parks, alleys, and under bridges, into two beautiful downtown Chapels.

I was asked in 2011, to go to India and speak before H.H. the Dalai Lama about Homelessness in America, saw the actual spot where Buddha preached his very first sermon after walking two hundred miles to deliver it to five homeless guys, and was able to touch the Ashoka Pillar in Sarnath.

We spent a month in Ngondro Shedra Training with my Lama, Tulku Tsori Rinpoche, at his Children’s Monastary in the mountains of Mainpat, India. And after five years of studying, training, and asking; I was finally given Ngakpa Ordination.

Upon my return to the States, I was greeted by the news that one of my articles would be published by BudddhaDharma magazine in the summer issue. This article has raised awareness about our work within the homeless community and generated many kind emails from around the world. Which has encouraged me to work on a manuscript called, The Street Dharma Manual and turn out a string of articles called, “Where the Buddha Meets the Road,” which I assume, if you are reading this, someone has been crazy enough to publish.

On top of all this, I’m with the love of my life, and all our kids seem to be doing fine under one roof. I’m gainfully employed at a homeless facility.  And I’m watching the HMP Street Dharma groups and the iBow Fellowship grow organically, even though, it’s obvious to me and everyone else that I have no idea what I’m doing.

So even though I have met with so much good fortune as an organizer, teacher, and father; I’m still very much stuck with me. And I find myself caught up in heated discussions with misinformed Christians that don’t understand our work with the homeless. I angrily defend myself against misinformed Buddhists that don’t understand, either. I’m pissed off when folks don’t answer my emails or at least not in the way that I think they should. And many times I’ve been accused of being more compassionate with the homeless than with my own family.

Other times, I lose track of my purpose and act like a self-promoting, self-serving, egotistical asshole. All of this from a guy who practices some form of meditation daily, listens to the Dhammapada on CD so much that I know it by rote, reads at least two Buddhist books a month, and gives two to three Dharma talks a week.    

And this brings me to Charley, my thirteen year old daughter. She is the one who got all the curly, blonde hair when mine fell out. Charley is the type of girl who, when I said, “The way you act, Charley, you must have been some kind of Princess in a past life.” She said, “What do you mean, past life? I’m a Princess now!”

Often, Charley sees me getting upset about the dishwasher not being unloaded, the sink being full of dirty dishes, and running around screaming at the kids to get the house cleaned up. She knows that I’m just trying to get supper on the stove, get them fed so I can get to my ‘precious’ emails. So, Charley likes to stop me in my tracks by saying, “Calm down, Dad. Don’t get all butt hurt!” 

Now, I have no idea what ‘Butt Hurt’ means, nor do I care. But there are three distinct things about it. Number one, it’s funny. Number two, whatever it is, I don’t want to be that. And three, there is no good defense against it. Believe me, I have made myself look ridiculous arguing for hours on ‘how’ and ‘why’ I am not ‘Butt Hurt.’

So, here I am, a Ngakpa Monk, a student of a Great Lama, student of Buddhism, and outreach organizer, and the best antidote to my manic behavior and temper tantrums come from a thirteen year old girl.

And now, it’s become such a part of my vocabulary, that it’s almost my mantra. I find myself even adding it to the Dhammapada, such as, “Look how he abused me and beat me, (but don’t get all Butt Hurt), how he threw me down and robbed me. (but don’t get all Butt Hurt).  And, “Look at your own faults, what you have done and left undone.” (but don’t get all Butt Hurt).

When I am projecting that another Buddhist teacher isn’t returning my emails because, ‘He’s got a problem with me’ or I’m stuck on the side of the road with a clutch that’s gone out or even when I find out that my daughter is pregnant at sixteen, I may not recall one word from the Buddha’s teachings, my Lama’s training, or my practice, but I do have this nagging reminder floating around in my head saying, “To avoid embarrassment, it might be a good thing, to not Get All Butt Hurt!”