Smiles

Enigmatic?

My mind has turned to smiles. 

First the smiles seen by Thomas Merton while walking barefoot in Polonnaruwa, Sri Lanka, a site of many statues of the Buddha. Merton, on his Asian pilgrimage, spoke of the statues, their "great smiles, huge and yet subtle, filled with every possibility, questioning nothing, the peace not of emotional resignation but of sunyata". 

For most, possibly just enigmatic; certainly revealing nothing. 

The poet Billy Collins, in his poem "Shovelling Snow With Buddha", also mentions the smile of the Buddha, "so wide it wraps itself around the waist of the universe." 

Leaving such thoughts behind and becoming more mundane, my very own smiles. During my couple of years of severe depression, when with a consultant who was dealing with my "case", he once said that others often found it difficult to understand exactly what those with depression were going through and added, "especially people like you", which I asked him to explain. "Because you are always smiling". This was the first I knew about it. A default expression, meaning nothing, and certainly not representing any form of peace or contentment, let alone sunyata. But now this old memory makes me think of what so many speak of and mention on Facebook, as it relates to depression, anxiety and mental illness in general. "Don't be fooled by appearances". 

Don't be fooled

It really is terrible sometimes when reading some news item of yet another youngster, seemingly with everything to live for, taking their own life. To see their photo beside the story, a face alive and smiling. Smiling, but only putting on a brave face. 

During all the years that  covered my own period of depression and other worries, my General Practitioner was a reasonably young man, always friendly, helpful, sympathetic; not one of those "just go home and pull yourself together" types of the old school. He always had photos on his desk, of his two young children. Over the years I noted the pictures changing as they grew up. Yes, my GP was always smiling. Entering the surgery one day for an appointment, there was a notice on the wall. My doctor had taken his own life. I had never suspected it, but reading the story as related in the local paper, his life had been a long battle against depression, ending in the breakup of his marriage and a lonely death. 

I continue to find the whole thing shocking. Had there been any signs I had missed, withdrawn inside my own problems? I really do not think so - all I remember is his smile each time I entered his office, always a friendly greeting. 

So perhaps every smile is enigmatic, difficult to interpret or understand. With the Buddha, alongside the enigmatic smile is the enigmatic silence, his refusal to answer certain questions. Fundamentally, it seems to have to do with a pragmatic approach to the "path". Any "answer", of this or that, either/or, and off we go into a wilderness, finally ending up just going around in circles. Whereas the Middle Way is in fact no "way" at all, not even a position between any two extremes, but more a "no position" that always transcends - yet embraces - both. Which all seems fairly obscure but once the Buddha, running out of words, just held up a flower, and someone just "got it". Frustrating to think upon this in some ways, yet encouraging in others. 

"And a little child shall lead them".

 

Getting back to autobiographical stuff, I am reminded of my very first visit to our local Mind Centre. Deep in anxiety and depression, I entered the building with a degree of trepidation, though no doubt sporting a smile of some description. A lady walked across the room to greet me, just saying "good afternoon, would you like a cup of tea?" Very easy going, and we had chatted pleasantly for quite a few minutes before she asked who had recommended the centre to me; and why I was there. It all put me at ease and created an ambience for all my future visits. I grew to love the place. 

Just to finish with a story that made me smile (which seems appropriate) from a biography of James Joyce. The author was writing of the relatively rare acts of kindness that Joyce exhibited during his life. Once, when Joyce himself was hard-up, he was accosted by a beggar in a Dublin street. "Can you spare a copper?" he was asked. Joyce stopped and said, "may I ask why you want it?" "To be honest sir I am dying for a drink". Joyce immediately gave the man his very last penny. As he walked away, he said to his companion, "If he had said he wanted a cup of tea I would have hit him."

If you see this man, be honest

Related Quote:- 

"The door without wish.......undesired.......unplanned.........never expected......there is no key........there is no use asking for it. Yet you must ask. Who? For what?.................It is neither this world nor another.......such is the door that ends all doors.......This one door is the door of the Palace of Nowhere.........Come with me now to the Palace of Nowhere where all the many things are one." 

(James Finley, excerpts from "Merton's Palace of Nowhere")