Monkey Mind

When Lisa settles in for meeting for worship, she likes to think about the Buddha: not just any Buddha. She thinks of the huge Buddha in the woods behind her house. When she found him first, wandering the woods as a child, she thought he was her secret. Now that she’s grown, she knows he’s well-known around town, but he still feels like her special mystery. Walk up the hill, the leaves of the trees all red and yellow at this time of year, and you stumble upon him, sitting lotus posture, his knees propped up, so he won’t fall on his face. He’s an ordinary Buddha in most ways: stocky but not round-bellied, with tightly curled hair and a round face, his lips a small O, ordinary except for his location. He’s huge. Who brought him up the hill? Who left him there, solitary in the middle of the woods, and why? If she brings his face clearly to mind, perhaps her thoughts will settle into some kind of peace. If not, perhaps he’ll at least supply distraction. And she needs peace, or at least distraction.

She fidgets on her bench. The meetinghouse is one of the oldest buildings in town and has old-style long benches, dark brown wood covered with flat cushions. She has visited Quakers in other towns, in newer buildings and modern chairs, but this meetinghouse, the one with benches for worship and an old graveyard outside, is hers. It’s a reminder of earlier generations of Quakers who never thought of the Buddha, when they settled into worship.

Think of the Buddha or think of those old-time Quakers. Think of anything but her own life here and now.

That morning, before meeting for worship, Friends had a Quaker dialogue on “simplicity.” There’s a repetitiveness, for Lisa, in Quaker reflections on simplicity. Marge, who is old enough to be Lisa’s mother, will speak about her challenges with simplicity. So many things to do! So hard to focus! And soon others join in. Their lives aren’t simple and they aren’t simple, it seems to Lisa, because they’re all busy doing good deeds. One works on immigration. Another works with a battered women’s shelter. Their challenges with simplicity aren’t Lisa’s. Lisa isn’t challenged because she’s so dedicated. Lisa is challenged because she is such a screw-up.

Lisa opens her eyes and looks at the sign to her left: “Be the change that you want to see in the world.” The change that Lisa wants to see in the world is an end to debt: specifically, an end to her debt.

It’s not all Lisa’s fault. She had cancer. There were co-pays to the hospital and co-pays for the chemotherapy. There was less income, as her husband still worked but she went on short-term disability. She couldn’t help these things.

It’s not all Lisa’s fault. But Lisa thinks some of that debt is absolutely on her. There were new dresses and new shoes and new necklaces because Lisa just had to feel beautiful again. There were dinners ordered in from restaurants that they really couldn’t afford because Lisa had to enjoy food again. There was a cruise to celebrate “no evidence of disease” because if there’s one thing Lisa had learned from cancer it’s that tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed.

Now it’s three years after that cancer diagnosis, and the debts haven’t gotten smaller, and even if tomorrow isn’t guaranteed, Lisa needs to learn to spend as if she might, after all, see many tomorrows. She imagines what those old-time Quakers would say about her feckless, modern ways. Did any of them run up debt the way she did?

Lisa tries to picture the Buddha in the woods, but the Buddha vanishes in a mountain of bills: the electricity bill put off so she could pay the car registration and the credit card racking up late fees and higher interest rates.

She sees George stand to speak. George is an older Friend who is often moved to speak about his dog. Lisa settles back to listen to a story about a creature far more faithful than she is.

This time, George doesn’t talk about his dog. He says, “It took me years to request membership, because I thought I wasn’t good enough to be a Friend. I am here to tell you that you are good enough.”

No, I’m not, Lisa thinks. I’m not. But George’s message sinks in despite her protests. As she settles back into silence, a thought comes to her. Talk to Ministry and Counsel. Ask for a clearness committee.

She’s back to tensing her shoulders and calculating which bills can be paid and which put off, as she sees the clerk turn to shake hands. Hands are shaken all around. Announcements follow. Justin has come through his surgery well and is grateful for being held in the Light. Jenny talks about the movie night coming up: a film about the climate emergency. Julio says the book group is now reading Braiding Sweetgrass. The recording clerk needs reports before next week’s meeting for business.

After Friends rise, Lisa catches Vera by the refreshments, loading a plate with cheese, crackers, and grapes. Vera is a member of Ministry and Counsel Committee.

“Can we talk?” Lisa asks.

Vera takes her to the library for privacy. There, by a shelf with Rufus Jones and Thomas Kelly, Lisa spills out her tale.

“I’m a mess,” she says.

“Lots of people come out of cancer with debt,” says Vera.

Lisa can’t accept the reassurance. She remembers too vividly a day on that cruise. She sees herself inside a small jewelry shop in Puerto Vallarta looking at the display of real silver necklaces. Shouldn’t she have thought of her medical debt then, before she added buying jewelry to the cost of her cruise? She shakes her head.

“I’m not asking for money,” she says, “I got myself into this mess, and I’ll get myself out. But could I have a clearness committee?”

Vera gives Lisa a hug.

“Lisa,” she says, “It doesn’t matter how much of your debt is because you were sick and how much is because you messed up. Of course you can have a clearness committee.”

She sits with Lisa for a few minutes as Lisa cries, and hands her a tissue to dry her tears.

“Now,” Vera says, “Who would you like to serve on your committee”?

Once Lisa has suggested her names, Vera heads back out to the hospitality room, but Lisa stays behind in a chair near the bookshelves. She closes her eyes and imagines again the Buddha in the woods. She sees herself walking up the hill and sitting cross-legged near him. Thoughts of her debts still buzz in her mind, but for just a few minutes they float in the distance. For now, it is enough.