Buddhist monk contemplating reality:
"If there is no self, then whose arthritis is this?"
"I know nothing . . . And I'm not even sure of that?"
"Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Forget this, and attaining Enlightenment will be the least of my problems."
My husband and sons and I had stopped to take in a spectacular sunset and were on our way back to our car when four Buddhist monks dressed in orange robes walked by. When our sons asked about them, I explained, "Their life is a quest for enlightenment."
"I wonder what kind of car they drive," my husband said, and jokingly suggested, "a Ford Focus?"
"Or a Honda Odyssey," I said.
The monks got into a Pathfinder.
It was Palm Sunday, but because of a sore throat, 5-year-old Johnny stayed home from church with a sitter. When the family returned home they were carrying several palm fronds. Johnny asked, "What are those for?"
His father told him they were palm fronds and that, "People held them over Jesus' head as he walked by."
"Wouldn't you know it," Johnny sadly said, "the one Sunday I don't go to church and Jesus shows up."