The Transmigrant

by Kristi Saare Duarte

  “‘“One hundred thousand pieces of gold, Lord, not to mention his silver.”

  “‘“Yes, that is true wealth, Ugga. I don’t say it is not. But all his property is susceptible to damage from fire, floods, taxes, thieves, and greedy heirs. Let me tell you about seven even more valuable treasures that no fire or flood can harm, and no kings, thieves, or hateful heirs can steal. Those are the ones you should pursue.”

  “‘“Which are those seven?” Ugga asked.

  “‘“The treasures of faith, virtue, conscience, compassion, listening and learning, generosity, and right understanding. These, Ugga, are seven treasures that are not susceptible to fire, flood, taxes, thieves, or hateful heirs. Whoever possesses these seven treasures owns the greatest treasure in the world, something one cannot lose in the worlds of humans or divine beings.’””

  Yeshua sat still, cradling the scroll like a baby bird in his hands. Everything the Buddha said was true. The words opened his heart and infused it with peace. He knew without doubt these teachings were true. The Buddha had become one with God.

  Master nodded and let his half-closed eye rest on Yeshua’s chest, signaling that their session had come to an end.

  In the months that followed, Yeshua read and memorized the verses written on scrolls and etched on palm leaves and birch bark. He discussed their meanings during lessons with other monks and listened closely when Master explained the meaning of the suttas. Most referred to sayings of the Buddha, such as, “The mind is unpredictable and flighty; it goes wherever it likes and is difficult to control. It is an excellent benefit to know how to discipline the mind. A controlled mind is a great source of joy.”

  Master emphasized the four noble truths that Dhiman had taught Yeshua all those years ago: all is suffering, the origin of suffering is desire, the cessation of suffering can be achieved through mind control, and only the eightfold path makes it possible to end suffering. He drilled them in the eightfold path (right view, thought, speech, action, livelihood, effort, mindfulness, contemplation) and the precepts of the Buddha that required a monk to abstain from taking untimely meals and from dancing, singing, taking high positions, and accepting gold and silver. Yeshua thought of the golden ring he still kept tied into a corner of his robe, no longer for the security it offered, but with the intention of returning it to its rightful owner one day, and decided to keep the treasure a secret for now.

  The pace of life in the temple town was tranquil. No one was ever in a hurry, and rarely did anyone raise their voice or argue about petty matters.

  Although physical contact with the local nuns was strictly forbidden, Yeshua enjoyed their company and thoughtful conversations. The nuns embodied the Buddha’s teachings better than most monks, because generosity, compassion, and patience came naturally to them. And they moved with such grace that they were a joy to behold. One day, Yeshua told himself, he would take a wife. He dreamed about caressing a woman’s body, touching her supple breasts, and longed for their tender kisses. Like Ramaa. He would never forget the ecstasy of their one night together, but more than ten years had passed, and the details had faded. Ever since they parted, he had only observed women from a distance and hadn’t allowed himself to give in to his desires, not even with prostitutes. A lover would have distracted him from learning and achieving enlightenment.

  On an early summer’s morning, Yeshua went for a long walk along the river. He breathed in the delicate fragrance of wildflowers and listened to the drone of honeybees collecting sweet nectar, unaware that their lives would soon come to an end. How wonderful to be a bee, to live life to the fullest and always remain in the present moment. He paused to sit on a slope on the river’s bank, far from his daily chores, his monastic life, and the busy town, and closed his eyes to meditate. Within moments, he had connected to the movement of the water, the feel of the gentle breeze, the bouquet of blossoming magnolias, and the hum of life around him. He was one with God. With everything.

  And he was gone.

  Hours later, when he returned to consciousness, a family of serfs had gathered nearby. Yeshua stood and brushed the dust and grass from his robe. He smiled and nodded at a broad-shouldered but frightfully thin man standing beside him. But the man’s eyes were shrouded in sadness. Yeshua looked around. Every one of them wore the same expression of hopelessness.

  “Namaste, my friend,” Yeshua said, turning back to the man. “May I ask what is the matter? What has made you so sad?”

  “Bhikkhu, what do you gather?” The man’s voice seeped with misery. “Life is difficult. We labor in the fields all day and all night, and all we can ever hope for is more work. As long as we work, we feed our children. And if there’s no work… It’s hard, Bhikkhu, life is hard. Blessed be the day when I can put down my sickle and go to rest in the city of the dead.”

  Yeshua’s stomach cramped with sorrow at his words, and his heart swelled with compassion. How unfair that most people had to struggle for their daily bread. He grabbed the man’s hand.

  “My friend, listen. I understand your troubles, but don’t let work depress you. If you infuse love into everything you do, your troubles will feel lighter and your whole life will fill with joy. Look at the bees; they work from morning to night to produce honey for their queen. They never worry. They know that what they need will be provided until their last breath. Believe me: this—not worrying—this is Nirvana.”

  The man stared at him wide-eyed. “Nirvana? But Bhikkhu, how can these words offer me comfort? I will toil through endless lives before I ever reach Nirvana. It is hopeless. All we do is work, work, and work. We never find time to rest.”

  The others had edged closer to hear what the monk was saying.

  Yeshua placed his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Brother, you are mistaken. Nirvana is not far at all.”

  He cleared his throat and addressed the whole group:

  “Nirvana is not a place of limits and borders. It’s not a country to which you can travel, it’s a state of mind!” Arms spread, he looked out at their worn and tired faces.

  “You see, Nirvana is a place in our mind, in our consciousness, not something God created. We—you and I—are its creators. We make our own Nirvana. Like the bees make their honey.”

  The serfs looked at him with puzzled expressions. All their lives, they had been told they were worthless and would have to reincarnate again and again before they could ever hope to reach enlightenment. And now a stranger was telling them that they could create their own heaven?

  “You must look within to relieve your suffering, not to the outside. Open your hearts and let the peace of Nirvana flow into you, like a beam of love, and bring you endless joy.”

  A few of them looked up into the sky as if searching for this beam.

  “I promise, if you open your mind and connect with the love of God, your work will no longer be so hard.”

  The serfs, desperate for good news, stepped closer. Their unwashed bodies reeked of sweat from hard labor.

  “Bhikkhu, tell us more!”

  Yeshua flushed, glad to ignite a spark of hope in their hopeless lives. “If you sit down, I will tell you a story.”

  The serfs sat in a semicircle before him, watching him intently.

  “Once there was a farmer,” Yeshua said, making eye contact with each of the serfs, “who owned a field of stony soil. He toiled from early morning to late at night, but still he could not grow enough food to feed his family.”

  They listened, spellbound. This was their own story.

  “One day, a passing miner stopped at the edge of the field and called out to the farmer. ‘My good man, you plow and sow and reap the land with great effort. Can you not see the treasures buried just below your feet? Every day you skim only the top layer of the poor soil while you walk on a fortune of sapphires.’

  “The farmer thought the miner was mocking him.

  “But the miner continued: ‘I promise, if you plow up the rocky soil and dig deep into the earth, you will no lon
ger have to struggle.’

  “The desperate farmer started digging. He dug for days and days until, at last, he uncovered a vein of precious blue stones. After that day, he never again had to work so hard.”

  Yeshua looked out at the blank faces and sensed their unspoken questions: How did the miner know what was deep in the ground? And how could they, simple serfs, find precious stones in fields that didn’t even belong to them?

  Yeshua continued.

  “You see, like this man, you work relentlessly. You break your backs by plowing barren fields, the way your fathers did. You cannot see an end to it. But I assure you, within that rocky soil lies treasure of a kind that cannot be counted or weighed. Your hearts, dear friends, are that farmer’s field. In your hearts, you will find invaluable treasure. But you must dig deep inside your mind and open the door of your hearts to recover it.”

  He paused and looked around. For several minutes, no one spoke, and Yeshua thought that perhaps they had not understood him.

  “Teach us how, Bhikkhu,” a young boy finally said. “Show us the way to the wealth inside our hearts.”

  Yeshua stayed and talked to the serfs until the light faded from the sky and the moon rose over the treetops. He promised he would come back the next day, and the next, until they had opened their own private gateways to Nirvana.

  As he walked back to the temple, he thought of the White Brahmins of Jagannath and realized how much they had taught him. Oh, how he missed them.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Kapilavatthu, Himalayas, AD 21

  During the following years, Yeshua met with the serfs most nights until their backs had straightened with hope and their eyes sparkled with joy. In the mornings, he studied the suttas and practiced mindfulness with the other monks. Master cautioned him to remain humble and warned Yeshua not to let his pride go to his head. After all, he was no different, no better, than the others.

  In springtime, Yeshua joined the other monks in long walks to settlements at the foot of the Himalayas, where they stayed for a few weeks at a time and taught the villagers basic meditation to gain serenity and insight.

  “You can eliminate suffering,” Yeshua told them, “by focusing on something and allowing your mind to be absorbed into it.” He described the qualities of suitable objects for meditation: the colors blue, red, or green, elements like earth and fire, even foul things like decomposing corpses or dead animals. He taught that the best place for meditation was a quiet, secluded spot—perhaps in a nearby cave or under a cluster of trees, ideally, sheltered from both rain and disturbing insects. And most importantly, it should be within walking distance of a teacher who could answer questions.

  As the villagers learned to calm their minds, quiet their emotions, and become aware of nothingness, he also taught them how to see beyond the needs of their bodies. He told them that their minds were boundless and that both hunger and sensual desires could be controlled.

  Finally, he spoke of compassion. “Everyone suffers—slaves as well as kings. One day you will understand that happiness is within everyone’s reach.”

  Back in Kapilavatthu, Master taught Yeshua and the other monks to adapt their message to their students. Parables could be effective for those who were ready to absorb the message, whereas those not yet ready to awaken would think they had just heard a simple story. He emphasized that those who wished to follow the Buddha’s path must first learn to recognize and refrain from the five barriers to enlightenment: sexual desire, laziness, restlessness, hatred, and worry, which could take years, or even an entire lifetime, to master. The monks had to be patient and guide their disciples wisely.

  “What do I tell my wife?” a newlywed man asked Yeshua. “If I don’t take her to bed, she will think I no longer find her pretty. I need sons. I have a farm to run.”

  Yeshua paused to consider. When speaking of desires, refraining from sexual intercourse seemed to bring the most resistance. He had to make sure he used the correct words.

  “There’s nothing wrong with taking your wife to bed. But don’t let your lust consume you. Don’t stare at the soft breasts of every woman you pass.” Some of the men chuckled. “Yes, I know you do.” They all laughed. “And don’t undress your neighbor’s wife in your fantasy. Yes, I know that, too.” More laughter. “When you make love to your wife, make love with your soul. Unite with her under the covers; become one with her—and with God.”

  The younger men snickered and shoved at each other.

  “I don’t want to make love to God,” an adolescent called out.

  “Ah, but you do,” Yeshua said. He approached the boy and patted his shoulder. “Because when you make love with God, you make love. When you become one with a woman, you’ve become one with God. There’s no ego. No desire. No suffering. Just bliss. True intimacy is unity. Once you know how it feels, you will bring that completeness to all relationships in your life.”

  “You mean I need to make love to men, too?” More rowdy laughter.

  Yeshua nodded thoughtfully. Master and Yeshua had practiced for hours, considering all possible questions.

  “Only if you want. Once you realize that everyone in this world—your friends, your foes, strangers—are all one with God, you will understand that loving another is loving yourself. Loving your wife is loving yourself.”

  “But what does sex have to do with suffering? I like sex. And I like looking at breasts. I like ample buttocks. That doesn’t make me suffer. It makes me happy!”

  Yeshua remembered how it used to make him happy, too. He squatted next to the youth, to meet him at the same eye level. “Suffering comes from lack of satisfaction. You may have intercourse a thousand times, but it will never be enough. You will always want more. And you will suffer when you cannot have it. Anything you desire causes suffering because the unfulfilled desire reminds you of something you do not have.”

  “I am certainly always satisfied after lying with my wife. You should see her!”

  The men laughed at the fellow, whose face collapsed with embarrassment. Yeshua patted his shoulder. “And when you wake up the next morning? Are you still satisfied?”

  The man shook his head.

  “So—you see? It’s not the act of making love that causes the suffering; it’s the desire to make love. The only way to make love and not suffer is to overcome the desire to have relations again and again and again.”

  Anger was another common struggle.

  “But my neighbor stole my horse. Of course I despise him!”

  “My wife is mean and nasty. How can I possibly not be angry with her?”

  “I didn’t do anything. It’s my brother, he is always angry. Honestly, I have been kind to him every day of my life, and look how he treats me.”

  They always blamed someone else for their troubles.

  When Yeshua wanted to give up, Master advised him how to manage the responses.

  “Tell them their own reactions destroy their peace of mind, not the actions of others. To justify our emotions, we must first believe we have every right to be angry. Thus our fury increases. The Buddha taught that hatred is our worst enemy because it causes unhappiness and makes us ugly and miserable.”

  Yeshua nodded. He picked up the broom that stood in the corner of Master’s bedroom and swept the clean floor, contemplating the master’s advice.

  “Have you asked them if they notice how good things happen when they are in a pleasant mood?” Master asked. “And when they are angry, everything seems to go wrong?”

  “Of course,” Yeshua said, placing the broom back in the corner. “You can’t eat, you can’t sleep, you get sick, and your body hurts here, there, and everywhere.”

  “Exactly. And that’s why the Buddha spoke about loving-kindness. Approach your foes with compassion. Embrace them and respond to their attacks with love. Wait and let their rage dissipate, and then ask them what’s wrong. Perhaps they are suffering a terrible loss or facing a problem. It might have nothing to do with you. But if you ca
nnot bring yourself to meet them with a heart full of compassion, you had better avoid them. The world is quite fair. No one escapes justice. No one can hide from karma.”

  Yeshua let Master’s words sink in, and then said, “I ask people if it really was someone else who caused their anger or if it could be that they are angry with themselves. I tell them to search their hearts and consider if they can do anything to change their attitude. Often they will find that once an issue is settled within themselves, it no longer bothers them in others.”

  Master closed his eyes, as if in deep thought. Yeshua waited. After a long while, when the master hadn’t moved, Yeshua bowed and left Master’s room.

  The lesson had come to an end.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Kapilavatthu, Himalayas, AD 23

  Two distinct seasons divided the year in Kapilavatthu. During the dry and clear fall through early spring, the monks left the temple for weeklong walks into the mountains to teach the word of the Buddha. From summer through early autumn, when daily rainfall turned the roads muddy and impassable, they spent their days between the local temples, discussing the suttas with elders and studying the scriptures. Yeshua’s favorite part of the year, however, came at the end of monsoon season when the villages celebrated their harvest. The monks traveled from one festival to the next, carrying messages of peace and hope while savoring the gifts of abundant fresh produce.

  Each community had its own customs. In one village, the men dressed up in yak-skin coats, painted their faces red, and chased the women and children around. Little boys and girls shrieked with laughter as they scurried to find hiding places in piles of hay and behind their livestock. Young couples sought refuge in vacant huts, and nine full moons later a whole crop of babies were born. Other festivals were more devout, with processions around provisional stupas and daylong chants that ebbed and flowed with the force of the wind. Yet others slaughtered their fattest sheep, roasted it on a spit over a raging fire, and feasted on the mutton with freshly harvested mustard greens. Whenever he traveled alone, Yeshua let down his guard and participated in the festivities with body and soul. With unbridled joy, he sang and danced with the villagers around each house and across the fields until his feet blistered and bled.