The Grace of a Mosquito

In Bodhgaya, where Buddha was enlightened, perhaps a hundred of us gathered at a monastery for meditation training. For ten days at a time we meditated intensively from five-thirty in the morning until ten at night. During these ten-day periods on about the eighth day the teacher would instruct us to spend a sixty-minute period in the hall without moving at all. I recall vividly one such period. The room was crowded, it was darkened – a gentle night. Outside I could hear the sound of the village, the creaking of the wooden wheels of the oxcarts, drivers yelling at their water buffalo, the laughter of children at play. I sensed a gentle, timeless civilization close to the earth.

Inside the teacher was reminding us, “Be aware of your breath. Do not move.” From the distance I became aware of the buzz of a mosquito, the sound becoming louder. The horrible thought arose in my mind, “I hope the mosquito lands on someone else if he must land at all.” Then there was guilt, and then with the next following of the breath, the thought of guilt faded. The mosquito approached. My consciousness once again was entrapped by the sound of the mosquito. It landed on my cheek. “Do not move,” the teacher intoned.

I could feel the mosquito walking over my skin looking for an appropriate place to feed. My automatic impulse to brush away or kill mosquitoes came to mind. I wrestled with my mind to bring it back to my breath. Then I felt the mosquito inserting its proboscis into my skin. Slowly I felt it getting heavier as it filled with my blood. I wrestled to bring my mind back to my breath, but it kept being caught by the drama that was unfolding on the surface of my skin. Slowly the mosquito withdrew, was still for a moment, and then staggered across my skin preparing for takeoff with its new burden – my blood. I felt the fullness of the engorged mosquito. It flew away.

Just beneath the surface of my skin there came a sensation. Itching, itching. I wrestled to bring my mind back to my breath. Itching, itching. I watched the itch arise, become overwhelmingly insistent, and then slowly subside, as the alien fluids were absorbed into my system.

How much I learned in that tiny bit of suffering!

By holding back my reaction I saw the entire sequence clearly. What grace that mosquito provided in allowing me to examine the passing nature of phenomena.

 

Photo via Flickr

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