What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger

I just had my flu shot. (I know, I know, some of you will disapprove, I do a bit myself). But it reminded me of Geshe Kelsang, my Teacher’s, explanation of transforming adversities into the spiritual path, where he uses the example of a needle.

So, in normal circumstances, I would not let a stranger anywhere near my arm with a needle, even a stranger with an official Walgreen’s badge. I would not let her inject me with some alien virus. I certainly would not say, once she had inflicted the pain: “Oh, thank you, you did great!”

But because I knew that the needle contained something I needed to ward off greater problems in the future (namely flu when I visit my long-neglected relatives in the UK over the holidays), I did let her jab my arm with a pointy thing.

Same with adversities. If we know something will do us good — make us stronger and/or immunize us from future suffering — we are far more likely to put up with it than if it is just some random useless suffering (whether inanimate or administered by others). According to Shantideva, in Guide to the Bodhisattva’s Way of Life:

Moreover, suffering has many good qualities.
Through experiencing it, we can dispel pride,
Develop compassion for those trapped in samsara,
Abandon non-virtue, and delight in virtue.

In other words, adversities can propel us along the spiritual path.  In which case, if we are in fact interested in being propelled along a spiritual path, we need not shy away from adversities, however scary they may first appear.

(I am well aware that a flu shot barely qualifies as suffering, btw, but the needle thing made me think… )

The cycle of lives

The other day I was at a yard sale with my neighbor and friend, more like family actually, searching for stuff for his and his fiance’s new property. There is, ermmm, about 20 years difference between us in age this time around, and this is sometimes obvious. For example, he can solve any computer problem at the speed of light and gets paid handsomely for doing it; but when we drove past several streets with the names “Whitman”, “Chaucer” and “Blake”, his face went blank when I said brightly: “Well, this is a literary area!!”

At the yard sale, he saw one of these zimmer frames and said, cheeky bugger: “Maybe we should get this, you might need it one of these days.”

Revenge was sweet. A few minutes later I saw one of these and said: “Maybe we should get this, you might need it pretty soon.”

This is because my friend, for all we know, could be closer to his next rebirth as a little girl than I am to old age and dodgy knees in this life.