Angel in our garden?

She said she was going over to paint with those Buddhists, and she marched over here. Took up a paintbrush for all of five seconds and then swaggered back across the road for her pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Grumbling she returns and tells us she defends when people say bad things about us. I asked what kind and she tells me, "you know, drunk people things." I propose that maybe those opinions are more about them or the alcohol and less about Buddhists. She lets it slide and starts staining the deck. Short summer dress and no shoes, she plops down politelyy but those legs are so long they are just going everywhere. I glance at those long long legs I wonder how the monk is doing.

She is perfumed with after-smell of extensive alcohol consumption. She declares she's Christian. I say I think that is cool. She disagrees with me instantly. This becomes a pattern. She has no opinion she claims, but jumps in every half sentence to debate one of the words I have chosen. This is no conversation, but rather a bizarre dance in which I am allowed to only give half the answer to the question before we move on.

She paints the deck. We continue the verbal dance. I am losing at capioera. We finish. She starts another. The sun is starting to set. She finishes the deck and another cigarette and invites us to see her apartment. We discover she is married to the banjo player. He's been at the bar too. The apartment is nice. I know what is next, so I invite them to see our place and give them a tour.

I explain that in Buddhism I feel there is a difference between regret and guilt. Guilt is a type of self castigation that ties up your energy and prevents you from being the one who can benefit others. Regret is a strong determination not to repeat mistakes, and allows one to use all available energy to repair the mistake or to move onward to beneficial activities so that no energy is wasted on yourself, but is instead dedicated toward the benefit of others. I think she digs that. She didn't interrupt me once. Her husband is smiling.

We go upstairs. I introduce them around. This I am pretty sure is all about them being able to see our place. She asks to borrow a book that explains buddhism. The three Buddhists stare at the hundreds of books blankly. And then I say, "How about Living Buddha, Living Christ?"

She takes it down and reads out of it. Then she looks up and says something like, "I might sound judgmental but I am just intense. I have no opinion really." Of course she has an opinion. But that is OK by me. I walk them out to say goodnight and then invite them to dinner again. And I remind them of course we won't be serving alcohol, but that we are decent cooks. People who hear the story are incredulous. Them, dinner? After alcohol and cigarettes and whatnot?

Of course. There are many kinds of compassion, and many kinds of Dharma in Blue Mounds. Today, this woman marched over and asked to help us care for a Dharma center. She helped me do something for our center that day which I could not have finished on my own. And that is her Dharma. Right now. Cigarettes and beer and all. She wanted to help, and we let her. And we finished the project which needed to be finished that night.

Maybe that was the only time she was brave enough to come over and do a Dharma service. And we said yes, you may come work here for a short time. May the merit created be dedicated to her enlightenment and may she be free from suffering.

Maybe next time, it will be easier to come over and say hello.