Meshel Laurie - Buddhism for the Unbelievably Busy

Published by Nero,

an imprint of Schwartz Publishing Pty Ltd

Level 1, 221 Drummond Street

Carlton VIC 3053, Australia

www.nerobooks.com

Copyright Meshel Laurie 2017

Meshel Laurie asserts her right to be known as the author of this work.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior consent of the publishers.

National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry (pbk)

Laurie, Meshel, author.

Buddhism for the unbelievably busy / Meshel Laurie.

9781863959599 (paperback)

9781925435788 (ebook)

Buddhist philosophy.

Mind and bodyReligious aspectsBuddhism.

Spirit possessionBuddhism.

Self-actualization (Psychology)Religious aspectsBuddhism.

Cover design by Peter Long

Author photo by Elizabeth Allnutt

Back cover illustration by Silverlane

Text design and typesetting by Marilyn de Castro and Tristan Main

I believe that the purpose of life is to be happy.

From the moment of birth, every human being wants happiness and does not want suffering. Neither social conditioning nor education nor ideology affect this.

From the very core of our being, we simply desire contentment. I dont know whether the universe, with its countless galaxies, stars and planets, has a deeper meaning or not, but at the very least, it is clear that we humans who live on this earth face the task of making a happy life for ourselves. Therefore, it is important to discover what will bring about the greatest degree of happiness.

HIS HOLINESS THE 14TH DALAI LAMA KALACHAKRA 2017

Introduction

TUESDAY,

Bloody Tuesday

Im writing this bit of the book on my phone, in my car out the front of my childrens school while I wait to pick them up. This morning I woke up at 4.10 a.m. to go to work, after which I met with my financial adviser to discuss superannuation options. Then I ate a sandwich while driving to visit my father in hospital before coming here. Straight from here Ill take my son to his tutor, and my daughter and I will go grocery shopping before picking him up. Then Ill get both kids home for baths, dinner, homework and various inane arguments before trying to wrestle them into bed by 8.30 p.m.

Far from an anomaly, this was a very average Tuesday for me, and I didnt know how else to perceive this day but as bone-crushingly, soul-destroyingly, back-breakingly, unbelievably busy. Furthermore, I didnt know how I couldve made it less so without letting someone down, losing money or putting something off only for it to be a pain in my butt tomorrow.

A woman once asked me, Whats your hell day? Everyones got one. Id never thought of it that way until she said it. But yes, there was generally one day a week that filled me with dread because a number of immovable obstacles had deposited themselves there.

My hell day was Tuesday. It was the most rigorous day of my week and always seemed to end with me in the foetal position in my bed and my children knowing not to ask me for anything unless it was absolutely life-or-death important. I was always fairly anxious at that point, too, as I wondered how I was going to get through the rest of the week when I was feeling that broken on day two!

One particular Tuesday afternoon, I was exhausted as usual yet charging through the world, anticipating trouble. I was running late to pick up my kids from school because Id been delayed by a plumber whod arrived to fix our loo just as I was walking out the door. Id raced home to meet him after a morning of slogging through repetitive work meetings, attending a hospital appointment with my father, and filling the car with petrol after it choked its way into the servo. Because I was behind schedule, I knew thered be lots of congestion and no parking spaces anywhere near the school.

I was right, and I was furious. Normally Id grab a park down the street or even a block away and drive up a few minutes later, when the initial rush had subsided, but that couldnt happen on a Tuesday because my son, Louie, needed to be at his tutors place by 3.45 p.m.

I decided, with the determination of a five-star general, to pull into a no-parking zone. I didnt feel good about it, but war is hell and pick-up is worse, so I committed to my plan and jumped out of the car to go get my kids. (They were still little and needed to be collected from the classroom.)

Then the lollipop lady decided to get involved in my Hellish Tuesday. This was a mistake. She pointed to the sign and yelled, No parking!

I waved her away and said, Its fine!

No parking! she screamed back.

Its FINE!

Over and over we went, louder and louder until we both sounded quite demented. The other mums at the gate looked like theyd keel over from stifled ecstasy. Who will I tell first? was written across every one of their beaming faces.

Eventually I lost interest in having the last stupid word, and marched in to get my kids. Moments later, I was dragging them out and yelling, Hurry up and get in the car! while the lollipop lady made a dramatic call on her phone and scowled at me. Obviously she was dobbing me in to a higher authority, but she didnt realise that the plumbers lateness had made me an outlaw long before Id reached her jurisdiction. This is Hellish Tuesday, lady, and your laws dont apply to me.

I had a flash of enlightenment as it was happening that I was causing myself extra stress, and that perhaps there was another way to handle things. But it wasnt enough for me to do anything about it (though I did resist the urge to give the lollipop lady the finger as I drove away).

My mind now focused on the inevitable and endless obstacles between the school and the tutors place. I had no choice about negotiating those, but I did choose to sit on the edge of my seat and demand my children be silent and not distract me.

I didnt choose the weather, which was oppressively hot, but I chose to let it get to me, and to feel like it was bearing down through the windscreen just to spite me.

I chose to conduct an inner monologue about how much pressure I lived under and how impossible it would be for anyone else to keep up. We made it just in time and little Louie skipped into his class. His poor sister was stuck with me and the grocery shopping, which depresses and overwhelms me at the best of times, but on Tuesdays theres extra pressure because I need to be back for Louie by 4.30 p.m.

We got the job done, through me constantly imploring Dali to hurry up and put things back, and as I tried to find somewhere to stash my trolley in the crowded car park, I became convinced that the world was designed to thwart mums. I felt victimised by a harsh culture that ignores the day-to-day pressures on women. I felt like even trying to climb on top of the dung pile that was my life was futile, because Id only sink back down into the stinky middle, weighed down as I was by the many demands on my time. Id never succeed. Id never be happy. When we got in the car, I looked at my daughter in the rear-view mirror and wanted to weep for her and her future as a woman. No time, though. Had to get back for Lou.

I started reversing and found myself at the centre of a traffic jam, unable to move anywhere as I was surrounded by drivers staring intently at me, hoping to swing into the space as soon as I invented a way to levitate myself out of it. Losing my temper and dignity for the second time that afternoon, I sat in my car and shouted, Well, where do you expect me to go? Where do you expect me to go?!