Loving-Kindness in Bhutan

***excerpt from "The Geography of Bliss: Eric Weiner"***




... When we arrive at the hotel- which Tashi points out by declaring, "We have arrived at the hotel, sir"- I am in no mood for small talk with the staff, so I carry a chair to the balcony outside my room and sit. Just sit. My head is spinning. Karma Ura has thrown me for a loop. Happiness is low expectations? How do I reconcile that with my driving ambition, which has served me so well in life? Or has it? And what he said about compassion being the ultimate ambition. What was that about?

Then I see it. About two feet from me. A bug. It is lying upside down, its tiny legs flailing futilely. I look away. But my eyes are drawn back to this tiny creature in such a pathetic state.

I consider my options. Option One: I can squash it and put it out of its misery. The main advantage of Option One is that it ends suffering, the bug's and mine. Option Two: I could ignore it, which is how I usually respond when faced with the suffering of others. Don't get involved. Be a good journalist. Remain neutral at all costs. But this is not a news story. There will be no "Bug Dies in Himalayas. Family Distraught. Footage at 11:00."

There is, I realize, an Option Three. I could intervene and save a life- an insect life, true, but still a life. I take a tentative step toward the bug and give it a gentle kick. Only it's not quite as gentle as I intended, and the bug slides a good ten feet across the patio, still upside down, legs still flailing. Okay, another failed humanitarian intervention. The United States- with all of its resources- couldn't save Somalia or Iraq, so why should I feel bad that I couldn't save one bug?

I got downstairs to my room a half hour later, out of morbid curiosity I peek out on the patio and see that the bug is still flailing, though losing steam. Why the hell should I care? I hate bugs, damn it. But all this Buddhist talk of loving-kindness has gotten to me. What the heck, I give the bug one more kick, this time more gently, and in an instant it is right-side up, scampering away. Not thanking me, but that's okay. It feels good. I saved a life. I got involved.

A postscript. When I stepped out on the patio later that evening I found a bug, the very same bug I'm sure, on its back again. I couldn't believe my eyes. This time, I did nothing. I slept easily that night, though. Nobody, not even Karma Ura, I bet, can save a dumb bug from itself.