DON'T HATE ME 'COZ I'M SICK.

So something mildly startling has come to my attention. And hear me out on this theory before you start throwing stones and rotten vegetables at me. So a couple of days ago I was rushed to hospital (dramatic pause) – gastritis or some other kind of horrifically painful thing. And as I writhed around on the hospital gurney, a nurse attended to me, followed by the doziest doctor ever known to man. And at the time, through the haze of pain and general sadness and disappointment, I didn’t quite grasp the extent of the treatment that I received. However, after the pain, morphine and fatigue wore off, I realised a shocking truth: nurses and doctors don’t like sick people.

I’ll explain. As I mentioned earlier, I was a-writhing and a-moaning for quite some time, and understandably I choked out to the nurse that I would quite like some pain relief. Her response? ‘Well, I can’t magically make the pain go away. You’ll just have to hold on’. Now call me a pleb, but surely magic needn’t be considered when we were a building brimming with medication of every kind and degree. Woman screaming in pain should usually = some kind of compassion + some f-ing drugs, no?! She followed this startling rebuff with a request for me to stand up to perform some kind of demoralising thing or other. As I tried and failed to even sit up, let alone stand, my trusty friend Chloe ran to my assistance as the nurse looked on in mild boredom. As Good Friend Chloe tried to help me up, the nurse stopped her in her good-deed-tracks and assured her that I was perfectly capable of getting up on my own. Just for the record, I wasn’t.

And I won’t even go into what the doctor had to say to me. I’ll just say that he called me a drug addict and a raging slut, in about two breaths. He used different words of course, but you can only really dress up such accusations so much.

Now I’ll stop there with the doctor’s brutality and the nurse’s general unkindness, though trust me, there are several more examples. The crux of this post however is that the next morning, when the writhing and moaning had stopped, they were as sweet as punch to me! My name became ‘love’ or ‘darling’. The nurse’s face muscles remembered how to smile. Her rough handling became the touch of my very own mother. And why dear readers? Because I had transformed over night into some semblance of a healthy person. It’s messed up, but that was the only difference between the night before and the morning after. Same Pensive Buddha lying in that bed. Same Mrs Nurse on the same shift. Same dozy doctor doing his rounds.

So my advice, from me to you: next time you encounter a nurse or any kind of practitioner of medicine, I suggest you pretend to be an individual with a perfect bill of health. You act and pretend till your face falls off, because otherwise, you may well be treated like a person who secretly likes to have intercourse with cats. Yep. You heard it here first.

AND ON IT GOES

So Buddhists believe that when someone dies, that is not the end for them. Depending on the merit that that person has accumulated over the course of their life, they will be reborn in accordance with that value.

So unless you’re Buddha or some other special individual who reaches Nirvāna: the ultimate resting place and end of the cycle of death and rebirth, death is simply not the end. Just a break. A change of scene in the longest and most riveting movie imaginable.

It’s a lovely idea. It means that anybody that you have lost, if you decide to subscribe to the Buddhist way of thinking, is not forever lost. Just repackaged and redistributed. To share the wealth so to speak.

And better still. If you really loved them, and they left a huge impression on you for the better, then you can be assured that the merit that they accrued from that alone has helped in securing for them a better life the next time around. They are better for having known you. And you’re better for the time that you had with them. And on it goes.

So take your pick: “Rest in Peace” or “Live on, better and better again”

SELF - PORTRAIT

So current location: Koh Samui in Thailand. Current duration: almost 3 weeks away. Now, in this time that’s been pretty much filled with meeting new people and exchanging stories, it has occurred to me that the idea that one may have of themselves may not necessarily be on par with the truth of who and what they are. In fact, it may be wildly deviated from the actual truth of the matter.

The estimation that one may formulate of their general character, their sense of humor, their attractiveness even, is one that is built up from subjective commentary and varying circumstances governed by varying motivations. And whether this is right or wrong, this is the self portrait that we have all sketched up of ourselves. That we carry around in our proverbial wallet to whip out and show anyone new, like grandparents pull out pocket sized photo albums of the grand-kids for anyone that might care to see.

So I felt that this topic was worthy of commentary because it highlights the opacity of human perception. We may be presented with one thing, and deduce from it something else altogether. A person riddled with personal character defects and scantily equipped with the warmer qualities a person may have, may look in the mirror and see a regular Michelangelo’s David. Whereas a person that is simply too lacking in self esteem to notice all of their sterling qualities see’s The Scream when faced with their reflection.

Now I’m not saying that people should wake up and come to terms with how generally crappy they are. (I promise!). But I will say that it’s certainly worth pulling out that self portrait and putting it up beside a mirror, just to make sure that that’s what you really look like. For a work of art is never truly complete.

GONE A-TRAVELLIN'!

Hey kids,

So in case you're on your bathroom floor crying because I haven't blogged in a lil' while, wait! There's a reasonable explanation! I'm currently chillin' out in an internet cafe in Bangkok, and will be doing similar things in several countries for several months.

Yes fair readers, thepensivebuddha is a-travellin! Hitting 7 countries in total, on country 2 so far: Thailand. As the cost of going on the internet may be better spent on food in many situations, I may well not be posting very often. But fear not, full updates, pics, horror stories on my return. And that's a promise from me to you.

Until then!

THE BUDDHA AND THE HARE

So I recently received one of the best gifts I’ve had in a long while: A copy of the complete and unabridged fables of Aesop. And just as a side note, I suspect old Aesop had a kinky thing for animals – pretty much every fable features at least one four legged creature. Just throwing that out there…

Now, out of the 207 fables that the legendary Aesop has been said to be responsible for, I particularly like, so far, a couple of the morals especially. From ‘The Heifer and the Ox’, the moral: Longer life for the toiling, shorter for the frolicking. I especially like the fact that this two sided moral seems to have a double meaning. Take it how you will. Myself – I’m still undecided as to whether I would prefer a long life if all I had to live for was more toil and labour, or a short life bereft of anything but superficial play and games.

From ‘The Lion and the Ass’, the moral: Diplomacy enhances the utility of the knaves. To me, this basically says play nice with the lowly, and they’ll be too stupid to do anything but play nice back. That may be a pretty blunt reading of it, but it’s the reading in which I found greatest comedic value. Call me base…

Anyhow, all this fable reading has inspired me to come up with a moral of my own – something that I’m coming to understand and appreciate more and more: Come to like the person that you are, for there is simply no escape.

DON'T STARTLE THE OBESE

Thought I’d share a funny thing I witnessed. I literally saw an obese woman turn her head – knee jerk reaction, speed of light style, at the sound of a bottle of fizzy pop opening.

True stories, and scary world.

By the by, I could've gone DEEP with the image (just ask GOOGLE), but I decided an element of anonymity would be the most decent thing...

ALL ABOUT THE PAPER (THAT'S DEGREE NOT DOSH...)

So, owing to my ever increasing contact with the world of business and industry, something yet newer is being revealed to me. Examples are always good: take this lady that I have come into acquaintance with. She speaks, and excuse my French here, as though she is as common as fuck and confesses to having little in the way of formal education. Moreover, I noticed that she seems to be unable to correctly say the word ‘specific’ (even when reading it aloud directly) and reverts to saying ‘pacific’ instead. She simply refuses to correctly say ‘written’ where relevant instead of ‘wrote’. And she refers to most words consisting of about 6 letters or more as posh.

Now call me finicky, but these few examples out of the many discrepancies that I noticed, don’t seem as though they should add up to the traits displayed, while actually at work I might add, of a professional. And by professional I mean someone who is employed at a fairly high position in their chosen field, while I am left to wallow in the sea of application forms and covering letters and general apathy from recruiters – actual definition.

So I am led to the conclusion that through probably about 30 years of graft and experience, she has earned her due along with her current position of employment, which indeed is commendable. And so it turns out that all the people who, in my youth, promised me that securing a degree was the only way to make it big, were filthy dirty liars. Thanks guys. Thanks ever so much. Though saying that, I think I’d much rather risk drowning right where I am than set aside any number of decades to make it to where I want to be. Amen.