The Traveling Monk

Lost Blog 1: Good

I was walking home from Cowell dining hall the other day, thinking for some reason that I was overdue for something odd to happen. Indeed, as odd as I thought of it, it happened.

Walking through the path of pink trees and the breeze of pink petals, I bumped into a squinty eyed bald man wearing red and orange robes, carrying a large bag over his shoulder and wheeling a large suitcase. He walked up to me and asked if I were a student here.

No, I’m backpacking through Europe and took a wrong turn at the Coliseum. “Why yes, I am.”

“Oh okay, I’m glad I ran into you. I’m a traveling monk on a mission to spread the word of enlightenment.”

The monk handed me a thick orange book with a picture of a chariot on the front. Bhagavad Gita: As It Is as it’s titled. It had a picture of someone resembling Ghandi on the back, which I assume to be the author.

“I sense some imbalance in your life,” the monk declared, “Might I ask what is wrong?”

Nosy bald stranger… “I guess I lack sleep. I am a student after all!” I chuckled dryly.

“Minor troubles sometimes mask even deeper struggles you have not yet recognized.”

“What do you mean?”

He talked a little about how everything around us and everything we do is connected on an abstract level. I listened attentively and began wondering why I had this bitter mood. No one notices it on the surface, but sometimes I carry around a bitter companion, a critic, an unwanted shoulder angel in my head… (I’m not crazy I swear!) But I questioned in my mind whether or not I was a good person to let these thoughts sneak through.

But before I reflected on the subject, the monk surprised me: “You seem like a good person.”

“Really? Even though I seemed bitter and cranky?” I gave a wry smile.

“Goodness isn’t decided on what we say or do, but on what drives us to do them.”

With that, I reached in my left pocket. The only bill I have is a 20. Are you seriously giving that away? “Here.”

“Why thank you! I’m glad I ran into you today.” The monk smiled.

He was probably going to ask for a donation anyway. “Well, it seems you have a long way to go, don’t you?” I chuckled, awkwardly, swatting my hand above my shoulder.

I looked at the book some more and decided to hand it back, but the monk refused, “Keep it. Consider it my thanks.”

And with that, I took his hand and shook it.

“Good luck on your journey.”

Am I that good person?