Ajahn Brahm - Don't Worry, Be Grumpy

One evening, just after dusk, I was meditating alone in one of the last stretches of natural jungle in northeast Thailand. It was getting dark, and the village was many miles away. A monk can become very still meditating far away from people and surrounded only by nature. I could hear only the evening sounds of the forest. I felt comforted by the reassuring background hum, which I knew well by this time, and soon became very peaceful.

That was until I heard the sound of an animal approach.

Most animals in the Thai jungles were benign. But there were also tigers, bears, and elephants in that forest. They were all capable of doing serious injury to people, even killing them. We were told scary stories about these very dangerous killers. The old villagers used to tell me that the big animals usually left the monks alone, but I was not reassured. I figured out that the villagers would never know about those monks who were not left alone by the tigers, elephants, and bears because they would not live to tell the story of their deaths!

To be on the safe side, I carefully listened to the animal that was approaching in the dark. By its sound, it was only a small creature and therefore nothing to worry about. So I resumed my meditation.

The animal came closer and the noise got louder. I became concerned. I mindfully listened, used my reason, and realized I had underestimated the size of the creature. From the way I heard it move through the jungle underbrush, it sounded like a midsize animal, maybe a civet cat. That was also nothing to worry about, so I started meditating again.

Then the noise became very loud. I could tell by the crunching of the leaves on the ground and the cracking of twigs of wood that this was a large animal, a very large one, and it was coming right toward me! I stopped meditating. My heart was pounding. I was so scared that I opened my eyes, turned on my flashlight, and started searching for a tiger or an elephant or bear. I was ready to run to save my life.

After a few seconds, I saw it in the beam of my flashlight. It was a tiny forest mouse.

I learned that fear magnifies things. When you are scared, the sound of a mouse seems like a monk-eating tiger approaching. Fear makes a minor sickness appear like the worst cancer, and a rash becomes the bubonic plague. Fear makes everything much larger than it is.

A man was returning from the temple late one evening. He decided to take the shortcut past the cemetery. He was a scientist and did not believe in ghosts. At least that is what he told his friends.

I don’t know why this is, but the lampposts that illuminate the street are always farther apart next to a cemetery. Or perhaps this is just what it seems like. Cemeteries are always spooky at night, whether you believe in ghosts or not.

Having passed the middle of the cemetery, he felt a little better. Then he thought he heard a strange sound, as though something were following him. He dismissed the perception as mere imagination and carried on walking.

But no! Something was following him. So he began to walk a little faster. The thing following him sounded like it was walking faster too. Even though he did not want to, trying to convince himself this was a trick of his mind, he looked behind him. That was a big mistake!

His eyes widened in horror. His jaw dropped and began to quiver uncontrollably. The blood drained from his face in shock. Following him, only a few meters behind, was a coffin. A vertical coffin, covered with cobwebs and loose soil. Bump! Bump! Bump!

He turned and ran. The coffin came bump, bump, bump after him. It was catching up.

He ran as fast as he could to the end of the cemetery, hoping the coffin would stop there. But no! The coffin continued after him along the suburban street. Bump! Bump! Bump! It was getting closer and closer. He was pouring sweat, willing his legs to go faster, but they would not.

Luckily, his house was close by. He jumped over the garden gate and ran to his house door. The coffin bumped against the gate, harder and harder. Reaching the front door, he took his house keys from his pocket. With a loud “Bump” the coffin broke through the garden gate. He dropped the keys. The coffin came bumping toward him. Terrified he reached for any key in the bunch and tried to put it in the lock. The coffin was almost upon him. Luckily, a key slid into the lock. He opened the door, jumped inside, and slammed the door shut just as the coffin reached the door. Perspiring and shaking, he let out a sigh of relief.

Bump! The coffin started to strike against the door. BUMP! It crashed with more force against the wood. BUMP! The hinges started to give way. In terror, he ran up the stairs to the only room with a lock, the bathroom. At the top of the stairs he turned around to see the coffin, with supernatural force, break down the front door and enter his home. He darted into the bathroom and locked the door. His heart was pounding.

He could hear the coffin come bumping up the stairs. He heard the coffin come crashing against the bathroom door. If the solid front door could not hold off the coffin, the bathroom door surely would give way. BUMP! And the bathroom door did give way. There were no more places to run. The coffin came toward him. Instinctively, he reached for something to throw at the approaching coffin. It was a bottle of medicine from the shelf. The glass bottle smashed on the coffin, and the pungent liquid spread all over the cobweb-covered wood. The coffin stopped. It was a miracle. The coffin ceased.

The bottle had contained cough syrup. Just as the pharmacist had said, “This will stop any coffin.”

A friend was a poor builder’s laborer in Perth. He was helping renovate an old house built on stumps. While cleaning up after everyone else had gone home, he was passing by the outside of the old building when he heard someone say, “Put your hand under here!”

There was no one around, so he thought that he had imagined the voice.

Then he heard it again, “Put your hand under here!” This was not his mind playing tricks. This was real. This was a ghost!

What would you do? Please don’t run away. Many ghosts are kind.

So he carefully put his hand in the space between the ground and the raised floor of the house, and pulled out a large tin box. Opening it, he found many thousands of dollars in cash. He suspected that the previous owner, who had died, had hidden the money under the house to avoid paying taxes. The laborer used that money for the deposit on his first house. It was how he got his start in life.

So if you ever hear a ghostly voice say, “Put your hand under here!” you now know what to do.

Another friend lived alone with her dog. She would go for a walk with him in the woods twice a day. She loved her dog as if it were her only child.

One morning, playing with her dog in the woods, she lost her ring. It was not an expensive piece of jewelry, but it held treasured memories for her. She had a reasonable idea where it must have fallen, but no matter how long she searched, she could not find that ring. Disappointed, she gave it up for lost.

Soon after, she forgot all about the ring when her dear dog died. She missed him terribly. Her walks in the forest without his company made her so sad. So she preferred to remain at home. But one strange thing lessened her grief. For many days after the death, she clearly heard him barking in her house. She was not imagining this. The barking was real, and she easily recognized the sound as her dear dog. It made her a little less lonely.

But she could never see the ghost of her dog. She would hear it in another room, rush there, but there was never a dog to be seen.