Magnifying
My Benefit
I got out of prison in the
minimum amount of time for my offense. About six months.
Many people leave prison
broken, raped, badly injured. I left stronger.
Out of all the drugs that
I had done prior my incarceration the only drug I craved was caffeine —
specifically the caffeine found in Coca-Cola. I took the $10 I was given
and bought a bus ticket, and with the change, bought a Coca-Cola. It tasted
damn good.
When I got home, I washed
out the water cup and dusted the butsudan area. Gongyo was a cool drink
to a thirsty man. I thought about my friends still in prison. The Daimoku
came easy. I savored the sight of the Gohonzon.
Later that week, I reported
to my parole officer. Mysteriously, he had lived in China and Korea. He
read Chinese. I showed him my Gongyo book and he taught me the meaning
of the Chinese characters. I looked forward to our visits. Life itself
had become my teacher. A university without walls.
A few years later, a highly
edited version of my prison experience appeared in the World Tribune.
Every so often after that, people would approach me, and ask me my name.
Then they would pull out a dog-eared copy of that
World Tribune,
and tell me that their sister, mother, or aunt had sent my experience.
Then they would tell me that
my experience encouraged them to chant, and that chanting had saved their
lives in prison, or helped them get out. My experience had become a liberator.
Telling others of your benefits
magnifies them.
Mr. Williams told us that
with most things the more you give, the less you have; with Buddhism the
opposite is true.
Mr. Williams was right.
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