Don't Worry Be Grumpy Page 4

  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.

  23. How a Mousetrap Killed a Chicken, a Pig, and a Cow

  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.

  24. How to Receive Praise

  In 2004, I was awarded the prestigious John Curtin Medal—named after Australia’s war-time Prime Minister—for exhibiting the qualities of vision, leadership, and community service in Australia. The presentation was made before dignitaries in Perth’s Curtin University.

  When I was asked to give a short acceptance speech, I stated that it was a great honor and a surprise, because there were others in the Australian community who had done much more service than I had done. I also emphasized that I could not have achieved so much without the huge support of so many others.

  The following year, I received an invitation to attend the award ceremony for the 2005 winner. Thinking that if others attended my ceremony, then I should attend theirs, I went.

  That year, the medal was awarded to Doctor Joske, the then-head of haematology at one of Perth’s main hospitals. In his work with cancer sufferers, he had noticed that they received the world’s best treatment in surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation therapy but inadequate aftercare. So he used his considerable influence to obtain a few rooms in the busy hospital to establish an alternative and complementary therapy center. There, anyone receiving conventional treatments for cancer could also receive acupuncture, foot massage, reiki, and other such treatments generally considered unscientific, all free of charge. He reasoned that, at the very least, the patients would receive comfort and relief and feel cared for when, say, someone massaged their feet for thirty minutes. Ridiculed by his fellow doctors, he pressed ahead and had remarkable positive results. I was inspired by his story.

  Then Doctor Joske was asked to give his acceptance speech. He said that it was a great honor and a surprise, because there were others in the Australian community who do much more than he had done. He also pointed out that he could not have achieved so much without the huge support of so many others.

  Sitting in the audience, I thought, “Hey! That’s my speech from last year.” Indeed it was. It is most people’s speech when given praise in public.

  In Doctor Joske’s case, I was absolutely convinced that he well deserved the recognition that the John Curtin Medal gives. It made me think, “Perhaps, conceivably, I also deserved the previous year’s award? Many highly intelligent academics had thoroughly researched my work and its outcomes and decided I was worthy. What right had I to question their wise and informed judgment?” I concluded that yes, just as Doctor Joske deserved his award, so I deserved my medal. Only then did I receive the praise, albeit one year late.

  Now when intelligent people give me praise, I pay due respect to their wisdom by receiving the praise, saying, “Thank you. I deserve that.”

  My response makes people laugh because it is unusual, but they get the point and begin to accept praise themselves. It makes such a huge difference to their emotional well-being.

  As a postscript, I previously rejected praise because I had been taught that it would give me a big head. It does not. Instead, receiving praise gives you a big heart.

  25. The Fifteen Seconds of Praise Rule

  Experiments in psychology have shown that it takes on average fifteen seconds of continuous praise for it to be heard. But criticism is received immediately!

  We are so uneasy with receiving praise that we usually reject it with thoughts such as:

  “What is she on about?”

  “Is he drunk or just plain crazy?”

  “Okay, there’s some hidden motive behind this.”

  Therefore, if you want to tell your wife what a wonderful woman she is, or tell your husband how much you admire him, then get out a stopwatch or look at the clock and keep going. Only after fifteen seconds will they take the praise seriously!!

  26. The Sandwich Method

  When we do need to criticize people, what often happens is that we do it so unskillfully that they get offended, we feel bad, and so we avoi
d giving any more feedback in future. The original problem gets worse.

  Imagine a business where a manager is too reluctant to point out a fault in a worker because she doesn’t like conflict. The business will suffer. Suppose the coach of a sports team delays criticizing one of the player’s failings because he is afraid of creating discord. The team will lose. It is our duty to give timely criticism. Here is how it is done.

  First, praise the people you want to criticize. Lay it on thick but honestly. The purpose of the praise is to establish that we respect them, value their contributions, and that we are not simply putting them down.

  Praise also serves to open up people’s ears. We pay scant attention to what people are saying to us, preferring to listen to our own thoughts about what they are saying instead. Praise is the bait that lures us out of our self-protective inner safety room so we can fully hear what is being said. We like praise, so our ears open wider for more.

  Then we hit them, metaphorically of course, with the criticism, “But . . .” And the reprimand goes in through opened ears.

  Lastly, we add another thick layer of praise, reinforcing that we are not rejecting them as people, only pointing out one or two faults among so many good qualities that we have just now taken the time to point out.

  The result is that the offender accepts the criticism without feeling diminished, we as manager have performed our job with no unpleasant aftertaste, and the problem has been addressed.

  The first wad of praise is the top slice of bread in the sandwich, and the last layer of praise is the bottom slice. The criticism is the filling. Thus it’s called the “sandwich method.”

  27. The 70-Percent Rule

  Before I became a monk, I was a teacher in a British high school. Teaching teenagers is enough stress to make anyone think of renouncing the world and becoming a monk!

  When I had to give my first exam in mathematics, I asked a senior teacher for advice. He told me not to make it too hard, because if the average score is 30–40 percent, the students will become discouraged. They will start thinking that math is too difficult and give up. Conversely, if the test is too easy and the average mark is 90–100, then the test would be pointless.

  So he advised me to set the test aiming for an average score of 70. That way the students will be encouraged in their ability to do well at mathematics and, in the 30 percent of the test where they make mistakes, I would be able to identify their weak points and address those in their next lessons. The exam was 70 percent for encouragement and 30 percent for learning.

  Later, I realized that the same applies to life. If your average score in life’s tests is only 30–40 percent, then you will become discouraged, even depressed, and give up. And if you always score 95–100 in life, you learn very little and stagnate. But if your life’s score is around the magical 70 percent, then you have enough success to retain your motivation and enough failure to learn and grow as a person.

  28. Lower Your Expectations

  The 70-percent rule demonstrates why we should never expect 100 percent in life. It shows why it is all right for you to fail sometimes. Aim to fail 30 percent of the time, and you will have a rich life. Aim not to fail at all and you will be so stressed, afraid, and controlling that you won’t have much of a life at all. So lower your expectations to 70 percent and start enjoying life.

  We have such high expectations of our husbands and wives that we find it hard to enjoy a long-lasting relationship where we both feel accepted enough to grow. So if your husband only scores 70, keep him! If your wife scores 98, tell her to relax more and make some mistakes or you will dump her!

  Parents should lower their expectations of their children. Only half of all children can come in the top 50 percent at school! And children should lower their expectations of their parents too. None of us has finished growing yet.

  In fact, I often advise Buddhist parents that if their children come in the top 10 percent or bottom 10 percent at school or college, then they are not good Buddhists. This is because good Buddhists should follow the core teaching of the Middle Way. If your kid comes in the middle somewhere, then they are good Buddhists!

  Boys want good-looking girlfriends. Girls want rich husbands. They should both lower their expectations for a happier life. When a boy marries a beautiful girl, he will be jealous for the rest of his life, worried that she may be seduced by another man. But if he marries an ugly girl, he has nothing to worry about. If a girl marries a rich guy, she will always be suspicious that he may be having an affair with another woman. But if she marries a poor guy, then he will never be able to afford a mistress, so her marriage is secure, and she can relax. This is another example where lowering expectations makes life easier and more fun.

  29. Three of My Most Memorable Mistakes

  I don’t expect to be perfect. In fact, I like making mistakes. Because when I tell my friends about the stupid things that I have done, it makes them laugh. My stupidity increases the happiness in the world.

  1. I had just completed teaching a nine-day meditation retreat in Penang, and my hosts were seeing me off at the airport. They had bought me a yummy coffee drink before I was to board the aircraft. It was strong, thick, and sweetened with ice cream.

  I went to suck the delicious nectar through the straw, but nothing came through. I sucked harder. Still nothing. The straw must be blocked. So I sucked really hard. That was when I noticed some of my hosts giggling while the others were holding their hands over their mouths trying, out of politeness, not to laugh. So I removed the straw from the glass, only to realize that it was a plastic spoon.

  Where I came from, spoons were metal with wide flat handles, not thin, round, and plastic as in modern coffee shops. And the coffee was too thick to see what was on the end of the plastic thing. Nevertheless, I burst out laughing, allowing my hosts to join in. I had made many people happy.

  2. My early training as a Buddhist monk occurred in northeast Thailand under the renowned meditation teacher Ajahn Chah. When I arrived in Thailand, I could speak no Thai, so I had to learn “on the job.”

  One day I needed some soap. The routine was to approach the teacher and simply ask, in Thai of course. The Thai word for soap is saboo. I said “sapo,” which happens to mean “pineapple.”

  Ajahn Chah asked what I wanted a pineapple for. I answered “to wash with.” Ajahn Chah almost fell off his chair laughing.

  He had merriment for days telling his Thai visitors, “Have you seen these Westerners? They wash with pineapples. They’re such an advanced culture.”

  My attempts to speak Thai gave many such happy moments to my teacher.

  3. On another occasion, I was asked to perform the funeral ceremony for the parent of a Sri Lankan member of my Buddhist temple. I stood at the lectern in the funeral home to welcome all the mourners to the solemn Buddhist ceremony. I began by saying, “We are here today to remember with respect my friend’s mother, who passed away recently.”

  Sri Lankan names are so long and difficult for Westerners to pronounce that I called her “my friend’s mother.”

  It was then that an old lady sitting in the front stood up, interrupted my welcoming speech, and said indignantly, “It is not me who has died; it’s my husband!”

  Everyone laughed. I think even the coffin shook! The service then became a true celebration of the life of the deceased, full of happy memories to the very last.

  30. The Last Question

  I received a call late in the afternoon that a Buddhist family was on its way to see me after finishing interviews with the police. That morning, they had woken up to a parent’s worst nightmare. They found their seventeen-year-old son hanging on the end of a rope.

  Often suicides among the young are totally unpredictable. The boy had many friends and showed no signs of depression. He appeared happy at school, where he was about to take the university entrance exams. He was expected to perform very well. There was not the slightest forewarning of what he was about to do.


  The parents were struggling with guilt, asking themselves repeatedly what they could have done, or said, to prevent this. Fortunately, Buddhism doesn’t exaggerate personal mistakes and nurture them into the devouring monster that is guilt. I could easily reassure them that they deserved no blame. Such suicides happen to the most caring and diligent of parents. They accepted this.

  Next, they expressed a level of concern that I can only describe as “terrified” over what would happen to their son after such a death. Being Buddhists, they accepted reincarnation. They had also heard that those who commit suicide are reborn in hell.

  It was trauma enough to witness the suicide of their son, but imagining him in such terrible pain afterward was adding torment upon torture. Whether or not we believe in life after death, we all like to hear that our recently deceased loved ones “have gone on to a happier place.” Imagine what it must be like to believe that they are now in a far worse place, an indescribably worse place.

  Knowing that their son would have been taking his university entrance exams soon, I asked the parents how many subjects he was to take and how many papers in each subject. The parents were confused about why I was asking such a question at this time. Out of respect for me, they replied that he was to take four subjects with two papers in each. Then I asked how many questions, on average, in each paper. They replied that there were about eight questions per paper.

  “That makes a total of sixty-four questions to get into an Australian university,” I said. “What would happen if a student answers sixty-three of those questions perfectly correct but makes a total mess of the very last question? Would that student get accepted into university?”