Ajahn Brahm - Don't Worry, Be Grumpy

My parents were poor but kind. I grew up in a government-subsidized apartment called a council flat . We were not afraid of burglars. In fact, we used to leave our front door unlocked, hoping a burglar might enter, take pity on us, and leave us something!

I spent a lot of my youth playing soccer in the street with my friends. When I came off the worst in a tackle, I would scrape my knees on the stone pavement or hard asphalt. Bleeding and in pain, I would run to my mother in tears. She would simply kneel down and press her lips on the wound to “kiss it better.” The pain would always go away. Then after quickly putting on a bandage, I was back kicking that soccer ball almost immediately.

Many years later, I wonder how unhealthy it was to place a mouth full of germs on an open wound! But it never led to an infection. Moreover, it was an instant painkiller.

I learned the healing power of kindness from my mother through incidents such as this.

Many amazing stories of survival came out of the 2004 tsunami. One of them is how kindness saved a Sri Lankan man’s life.

Every morning, the man would go to the edge of a lagoon connected to the ocean to feed the fish with a loaf of sliced bread. One morning, a big crocodile appeared. Sri Lankan crocodiles are very dangerous. They are known to eat people.

Unfrightened, the kind man threw a few slices of bread to the crocodile. The croc snapped them up and swam away.

From that day on, the crocodile would come every morning for his breakfast of sliced bread and afterward swim away peacefully.

The man was feeding the fish the morning the tsunami came. Being close to the edge of the water, he was swept up in the strong currents and carried out to sea. At first, he tried to hold on to a wooden chair, but the forces of the tsunami were so strong that they tore the chair from his grasp. Then he grabbed on to another piece of wood, and that too was pulled away from him. Close to drowning, he grabbed on to a log of wood that was floating close to him. He managed to hold on to that and grab some air.

Coming back to his senses, he began to notice something very odd. Whereas every other object was being dragged by the current out to sea, his log was moving in the opposite direction back to the shore. When he was close enough to dry land, the man jumped off the log and scrambled up the bank to safety. Only then did he notice that his “log” had a tail. It was the crocodile!

Cynics say that the crocodile only saved the man so he could get some more bread the next morning. But the wise know that the crocodile was only repaying many acts of kindness with his own act of compassion.

I was fortunate to grow up in a small apartment. It meant that my parents, brother, and I couldn’t escape from one another. My parents would argue like all married couples, but when they made up, I was there to see it. I learned that arguments are part of life, and that any bad feeling can easily be let go of in that beautiful act of forgiveness called “making up.”

I shared a small bedroom with my elder brother. We fought together, got into trouble together, and grew up together, learning to love one another to bits. If I had had my own room, I would never have learned this.

I read in a newspaper about a woman in England who had won many millions of pounds in the lottery. She then brought a beautiful mansion in the countryside. One year later, she sold that impressive home at a loss and purchased a small house instead.

She explained that when living in her huge mansion, she could never find her children or her husband! Her son was in one wing of the sprawling house, her daughter was in another part, and her husband was in yet another set of rooms. They hardly ever saw one another. She was becoming lonely. The size of the mansion was separating her from her loved ones.

Now back in the small house, she sees her husband and kids all the time. She has lost the space of the mansion but rediscovered her family.

Maybe part of the problem of our rich, modern world is that we live in houses that are far too big. Each child has his or her own room. It is just too easy to escape from each other in such big houses. We become very adept at living on our own terms, but we don’t learn the social skills of living with one another.

Five mice, a chicken, a pig, and a cow were friends and lived on a farm a long way from anywhere. The mice, who lived inside the farm-house, would always help their friends. When one of the mice heard that the farmer wanted fried chicken, they would tell the chicken to hide. When they heard the farmer’s wife planning a dinner of pork sausages, they would tell the pig to lie on its side and pretend to be sick. And when they heard that the farmer wanted a roast beef dinner, they would tell the cow to go off into another field. The chicken, pig, and cow called their five friends MI5—Mouse Intelligence Five.

One afternoon, one of the mice saw, through a crack in the wall, the farmer unpack a parcel. He almost squeaked his last breath when he saw that the parcel contained a mousetrap. “Oh no! We’re toast! We’re doomed!” he told the other mice. “What can we do?”

They all decided to go and ask their friend Mrs. Chicken for help.

“Kuk! Kuk! Kuk!” said Mrs. Chicken. “How can a little mousetrap hurt me?” The mice were so surprised that Mrs. Chicken would not consider helping them, nor even comfort them, after all the help the mice had given her.

So they went to see their friend Mr. Pig.

“Oink!” said Mr. Pig. “I’m a bit busy right now. I will get back to you later. After all, how can a mousetrap affect me?”

Again the mice were disappointed. So they went to see their biggest and bravest friend, Mrs. Cow.

Mrs. Cow was too busy chewing grass to even say “Moo!” Then, after much imploring from the anxious mice, she said, “Okay. I will ruminate on it, even though it is not my problem.”

The mice returned home in dismay. After all the assistance they had given their friends, they got little more than a “Kuk! Kuk! Kuk!” from Mrs. Chicken, an “Oink!” from Mr. Pig, and not even a “Moo!” from Mrs. Cow.

Later that night, while searching for a midnight snack, one of the mice stepped in that mousetrap. “WHACCK!” and the mouse went straight up to heaven (because he had been kind).

The other four mice heard the sound and went to help. There was nothing they could do for their dear, deceased brother. They wept and they cried and they sobbed.

The farmer’s wife also heard the sound of the mousetrap being sprung and went to investigate. When she saw the dead mouse with four other mice weeping with grief and taking turns holding one another in their little arms, she let out a scream and fainted.

By the next morning, she was still in shock and remained in bed. The farmer considered what he could give his wife to make her better. The thought came to him — chicken soup! So he caught Mrs. Chicken, decapitated her, and boiled her in a pot with some salt and garlic.

When the farmer’s wife’s friends heard that she was sick, they came to visit, as people do. The farmer had to feed his guests, so he slaughtered Mr. Pig and made him into grilled pork chops for his visitors.

Unfortunately, the farmer’s wife never recovered from the shock of seeing four mice in grief. She died. A lot of people came for the funeral, and the farmer made many roast beef sandwiches for the mourners. Guess where that beef came from?

That is how a little mousetrap killed a chicken, a pig, and a cow. So never think, “It is not my problem.” If your friend asks for help, it is your problem too. That’s what friends are for.