Laughing Buddha Quotes

Talk to strangers when the family fails and friends lead you astray when Buddha laughs and Jesus weeps and it turns out God is gay. 'Cause angels and messiahs love can come in many forms: in the hallways of your projects, or the fat girl in your dorm, and when you finally take the time to see what they’re about perhaps you find them lonely or their wisdom trips you out.

I didn’t know that the times we spent together on the weekends, the times that we laughed together, and the times you helped me out was your way of silently wishing me a beautiful goodbye.

Where is the graveyard of dead gods? What lingering mourner waters their mounds? There was a time when Jupiter was the king of the gods, and any man who doubted his puissance was ipso facto a barbarian and an ignoramus. But where in all the world is there a man who worships Jupiter today? And who of Huitzilopochtli? In one year - and it is no more than five hundred years ago - 50,000 youths and maidens were slain in sacrifice to him. Today, if he is remembered at all, it is only by some vagrant savage in the depths of the Mexican forest. Huitzilopochtli, like many other gods, had no human father; his mother was a virtuous widow; he was born of an apparently innocent flirtation that she carried out with the sun. When he frowned, his father, the sun, stood still. When he roared with rage, earthquakes engulfed whole cities. When he thirsted he was watered with 10,000 gallons of human blood. But today Huitzilopochtli is as magnificently forgotten as Allen G. Thurman. Once the peer of Allah, Buddha and Wotan, he is now the peer of Richmond P. Hobson, Alton B. Parker, Adelina Patti, General Weyler and Tom Sharkey. Speaking of Huitzilopochtli recalls his brother Tezcatlipoca. Tezcatlipoca was almost as powerful; he consumed 25,000 virgins a year. Lead me to his tomb: I would weep, and hang a couronne des perles. But who knows where it is? Or where the grave of Quetzalcoatl is? Or Xiuhtecuhtli? Or Centeotl, that sweet one? Or Tlazolteotl, the goddess of love? Of Mictlan? Or Xipe? Or all the host of Tzitzimitl? Where are their bones? Where is the willow on which they hung their harps? In what forlorn and unheard-of Hell do they await their resurrection morn? Who enjoys their residuary estates? Or that of Dis, whom Caesar found to be the chief god of the Celts? Of that of Tarves, the bull? Or that of Moccos, the pig? Or that of Epona, the mare? Or that of Mullo, the celestial jackass? There was a time when the Irish revered all these gods, but today even the drunkest Irishman laughs at them. But they have company in oblivion: the Hell of dead gods is as crowded as the Presbyterian Hell for babies. Damona is there, and Esus, and Drunemeton, and Silvana, and Dervones, and Adsullata, and Deva, and Bellisima, and Uxellimus, and Borvo, and Grannos, and Mogons. All mighty gods in their day, worshipped by millions, full of demands and impositions, able to bind and loose - all gods of the first class. Men labored for generations to build vast temples to them - temples with stones as large as hay-wagons. The business of interpreting their whims occupied thousands of priests, bishops, archbishops. To doubt them was to die, usually at the stake. Armies took to the field to defend them against infidels; villages were burned, women and children butchered, cattle were driven off. Yet in the end they all withered and died, and today there is none so poor to do them reverence. What has become of Sutekh, once the high god of the whole Nile Valley? What has become of: Resheph Anath Ashtoreth El Nergal Nebo Ninib Melek Ahijah Isis Ptah Anubis Baal Astarte Hadad Addu Shalem Dagon Sharaab Yau Amon-Re Osiris Sebek Molech? All there were gods of the highest eminence. Many of them are mentioned with fear and trembling in the Old Testament. They ranked, five or six thousand years ago, with Yahweh Himself; the worst of them stood far higher than Thor. Yet they have all gone down the chute, and with them the following: Bilé Ler Arianrhod Morrigu Govannon Gunfled Sokk-mimi Nemetona Dagda Robigus Pluto Ops Meditrina Vesta You may think I spoof. That I invent the names. I do not. Ask the rector to lend you any good treatise on comparative religion: You will find them all listed. They were gods of the highest standing and dignity-gods of civilized peoples-worshiped and believed in by millions. All were omnipotent, omniscient and immortal. And all are dead.

Learn to enjoy the way as much as you would enjoy when you reach the destination.

The statue of the Laughing Buddha act as a good friend. Whenever we are off the track, his smiling face can bring us back to the present moment, to a positive mood.

To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty, to find the best in others; to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden, or a redeemed social condition; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded. —RALPH WALDO EMERSON

Life is to be experienced in totality. Try not to blame others like spouse, parents, friends, fellow beings or situations for any suffering. .. Never allow your vibe to go to a lower level. This way you will attract more and more positive circumstances in your life.

Life is a miracle. We, all of us are creator beings. We are the joyful choice makers.

Its face crinkled up grotesquely, the eyes narrowing like those of a laughing Buddha, the lips peeling back to expose a sickle of brilliant teeth.

When you realize how perfect everything is you will tilt your head back and laugh at the sky.” —Buddha

Please believe me. I've nothing against you personally. It's just that I laugh at all jokes.

This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, Some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor. Welcome and entertain them all! … The dark thought, the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in. Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond. Rumi

But the statue attracted a middle-aged, brown-haired, overweight White guy. Clearly drunk, he climbed onto the tiny stage and started fondling Buddha before his laughing audience of drunk friends at a nearby table. I had learned a long time ago to tune out the antics of drunk White people doing things that could get a Black person arrested. Harmless White fun is Black lawlessness.

When you want something," says Michael, "it's like admitting that your life has a hole in it." "And to fill that hole, you need something that you don't have and you might not get." Michael gives a little laugh. "I never thought of it like that." I recall a lesson from our world religions class. "Didn't the Buddha say that want ing is what makes people suffer?" "The Buddha didn't play baseball," says Michael. "If he did, maybe he'd think that wanting isn't such a bad thing." Michael nods. "In some ways, I think that wanting is an act of courage.

A man was rowing his boat upstream when, suddenly, he saw another boat coming toward him. He shouted, “Be careful! Be careful!” but the boat plowed right into him, nearly sinking his boat. The man became angry and began to shout, but when he looked closely, he saw that there was no one in the other boat. The boat had drifted downstream by itself. He laughed out loud. When our perceptions are correct, we feel better, but when our perceptions are not correct, they can cause us a lot of unpleasant feelings.

I laugh at my ten-year pilgrimage— Wilted robe, tattered hat, knocking at Zen gates. In reality, the Buddha’s Law is simple: Eat your rice, drink your tea, wear your clothes.

The Buddha laughed in silence from the mantelpiece.

Own nothing! Possess nothing! Buddha and Christ taught us this, and the Stoics and the Cynics. Greedy though we are, why can't we seem to grasp that simple teaching? Can't we understand that with property we destroy our soul? So let the herring keep warm in your pocket until you get to the transit prison rather than beg for something to drink here. And did they give us a two-day supply of bread and sugar? In that case, eat it in one sitting. Then no one will steal it from you, and you won't have to worry about it. And you'll be free as a bird in heaven! Own only what you can always carry with you: know languages, know countries, know people. Let your memory be your travel bag. Use your memory! Use your memory! It is those bitter seeds alone which might sprout and grow someday. Look around you-there are people around you. Maybe you will remember one of them all your life and later eat your heartout because you didn't make use of the opportunity to ask him questions. And the less you talk, the more you'll hear. Thin strands of human lives stretch from island to island of the Archipelago. They intertwine, touch one another for one night only in just such a clickety-clacking half-dark car as this and then separate once and for all. Put your ear to their quiet humming and the steady clickety-clack beneath the car. After all, it is the spinning wheel of life that is clicking and clacking away there. What strange stories you can hear! What things you will laugh at!

if, as the Buddha proposed in the first teachings he gave upon attaining enlightenment, the essence of ordinary life is suffering, then one of the most effective antidotes is laughter—particularly laughter at oneself. Every aspect of experience assumes a certain kind of brightness once you learn to laugh at yourself.

Tips and Pointers for Building a Spiritual Life from Scratch Pray Meditate Be aware / Stay awake Bow Practice yoga Feel Chant and sing Breathe and smile Relax / Enjoy / Laugh / Play Create / Envision Let go / Forgive / Accept Walk / Exercise / Move Work / Serve / Contribute Listen / Learn / Inquire Consider / Reflect Cultivate oneself / Enhance competencies Cultivate contentment Cultivate flexibility Cultivate friendship and collaboration Open up / Expand / Include Lighten up Dream Celebrate and appreciate Give thanks Evolve Love Share / Give / Receive Walk softly / Live gently Expand / Radiate / Dissolve Simplify Surrender / Trust Be born anew

was a teenager she’d bought a red clay Buddha in a charity shop, and when her mother asked her why she wanted it, she told her she preferred to look at a fat god laughing rather than a skinny one dying. Rabbit never needed to believe in any god to marvel at the world, to feel joy, hope, love and contentment. Rabbit lived in the moment. She didn’t know what came next, nor did she care. It was likely that death meant a full stop and that didn’t scare her. In fact, when she thought about it, the notion of eternity was far more worrying

Mostly, they were ashamed of us. Our floppy straw hats and threadbare clothes. Our heavy accents. Every sing oh righ? Our cracked, callused palms. Our deeply lined faces black from years of picking peaches and staking grape plants in the sun. They longed for real fathers with briefcases who went to work in a suit and tie and only mowed the grass on Sundays. They wanted different and better mothers who did not look so worn out. Can't you put on a little lipstick? They dreaded rainy days in the country when we came to pick them up after school in our battered old farm trucks. They never invited over friends to our crowded homes in J-town. We live like beggars. They would not be seen with us at the temple on the Emperor's birthday. They would not celebrate the annual Freeing of the Insects with us at the end of summer in the park. They refused to join hands and dance with us in the streets on the Festival of the Autumnal Equinox. They laughed at us whenever we insisted that they bow to us first thing in the morning and with each passing day they seemed to slip further and further from our grasp.

Eastern spiritual sciences always use negative terminology. This minimizes the imagination. If we use positive terminology, too much imagination will happen. If you say “God,” people will start imagining all kinds of gods. If you say “Kingdom of God,” they will start imagining all kinds of fancy things in their heads. So the Eastern spiritual processes always use negative terminology. Now we say “shoonya,” or emptiness. Not much room left for the imagination, is there? (Laughs) So Gautama, the Buddha, said “nirvana.” Nirvana means non-existence. He is also talking about emptiness in a different way.

Imagine an Englishman, a Frenchman, a Chinese and an Indonesian all looking at a cup. The Englishman says, ‘That is a cup.’ The French-man answers, ‘No it’s not. It’s a tasse.’ Then the Chinese comments, ‘You are both wrong. It’s a pei.’ Finally the Indonesian man laughs at the others and says ‘What fools you are. It’s a cawan.’ Then the Englishman get a dictionary and shows it to the others saying, ‘I can prove that it is a cup. My dictionary says so.’ ‘Then your dictionary is wrong,’ says the Frenchman, ‘because my dictionary clearly says it is a tasse.’ The Chinese scoffs; ‘My dictionary says it’s a pei and my dictionary is thousands of years older than yours so it must be right. And besides, more people speak Chinese than any other language, so it must be a pei.’ While they are squabbling and arguing with each other, a another man comes up, drinks from the cup and then says to the others, ‘Whether you call it a cup, a tasse, a pei or a cawan, the purpose of the cup is to hold water so that it can be drunk. Stop arguing and drink, stop squabbling and refresh your thirst.’ This is the Buddhist attitude to other religions.

It is a great pity that this tendency towards religious thought can find no better outlet than the Jewish pettifoggery of the Old Testament. For religious people who, in the solitude of winter, continually seek ultimate light on their religious problems with the assistance of the Bible, must eventually become spiritually deformed. The wretched people strive to extract truths from these Jewish chicaneries, where in fact no truths exist. As a result they become embedded in some rut of thought or other and, unless they possess an exceptionally commonsense mind, degenerate into religious maniacs. It is deplorable that the Bible should have been translated into German, and that the whole of the German people should have thus become exposed to the whole of this Jewish mumbo-jumbo. So long as the wisdom, particularly of the Old Testament, remained exclusively in the Latin of the Church, there was little danger that sensible people would become the victims of illusions as the result of studying the Bible. But since the Bible became common property, a whole heap of people have found opened to them lines of religious thought which—particularly in conjunction with the German characteristic of persistent and somewhat melancholy meditation—as often as not turned them into religious maniacs. When one recollects further that the Catholic Church has elevated to the status of Saints a whole number of madmen, one realises why movements such as that of the Flagellants came inevitably into existence in the Middle Ages in Germany. As a sane German, one is flabbergasted to think that German human beings could have let themselves be brought to such a pass by Jewish filth and priestly twaddle, that they were little different from the howling dervish of the Turks and the negroes, at whom we laugh so scornfully. It angers one to think that, while in other parts of the globe religious teaching like that of Confucius, Buddha and Mohammed offers an undeniably broad basis for the religious-minded, Germans should have been duped by a theological exposition devoid of all honest depth.

This point was driven home for me for the first time when I was traveling in Asia in 1978 on a trip to a forest monastery in northeastern Thailand, Wat Ba Pong, on the Thai-Lao border. I was taken there by my meditation teacher, Jack Kornfield, who was escorting a group of us to meet the monk under whom he had studied at that forest hermitage. This man, Achaan Chaa, described himself as a “simple forest monk,” and he ran a hundred-acre forest monastery that was simple and old-fashioned, with one notable exception. Unlike most contemporary Buddhist monasteries in Thailand, where the practice of meditation as the Buddha had taught had all but died out, Achaan Chaa’s demanded intensive meditation practice and a slow, deliberate, mindful attention to the mundane details of everyday life. He had developed a reputation as a meditation master of the first order. My own first impressions of this serene environment were redolent of the newly extinguished Vietnam War, scenes of which were imprinted in my memory from years of media attention. The whole place looked extraordinarily fragile to me. On my first day, I was awakened before dawn to accompany the monks on their early morning alms rounds through the countryside. Clad in saffron robes, clutching black begging bowls, they wove single file through the green and brown rice paddies, mist rising, birds singing, as women and children knelt with heads bowed along the paths and held out offerings of sticky rice or fruits. The houses along the way were wooden structures, often perched on stilts, with thatched roofs. Despite the children running back and forth laughing at the odd collection of Westerners trailing the monks, the whole early morning seemed caught in a hush. After breakfasting on the collected food, we were ushered into an audience with Achaan Chaa. A severe-looking man with a kindly twinkle in his eyes, he sat patiently waiting for us to articulate the question that had brought us to him from such a distance. Finally, we made an attempt: “What are you really talking about? What do you mean by ‘eradicating craving’?” Achaan Chaa looked down and smiled faintly. He picked up the glass of drinking water to his left. Holding it up to us, he spoke in the chirpy Lao dialect that was his native tongue: “You see this goblet? For me, this glass is already broken. I enjoy it; I drink out of it. It holds my water admirably, sometimes even reflecting the sun in beautiful patterns. If I should tap it, it has a lovely ring to it. But when I put this glass on a shelf and the wind knocks it over or my elbow brushes it off the table and it falls to the ground and shatters, I say, ‘Of course.’ But when I understand that this glass is already broken, every moment with it is precious.”5 Achaan Chaa was not just talking about the glass, of course, nor was he speaking merely of the phenomenal world, the forest monastery, the body, or the inevitability of death. He was also speaking to each of us about the self. This self that you take to be so real, he was saying, is already broken.

If you knew how perfect things are… you would tilt your head back and laugh at the sky.” —Buddha

I was asleep. All along, I was asleep and never understood. But now, as he stares at the relic bo tree, something shifts. Nothing lasts forever. A kuti is a cell. This cell is a prison. He sits in a prison, while the ones who took Chaya live and drink and whore and laugh. Nothing is permanent. This is the central teaching of the Buddha. Not a career, not an institution, not a wife, not a tree. . . All is change; change is the only truth.

you must work very hard to accept the Buddha nature. And I know how you can resolve this.” But he would not tell me that day, saying it was best left for a later time. And the next day, he died. My brother monks found it hilarious. “He will tell you when he gets back,” one of the elders told me, laugh­ing. I

The recurring number forty, for example, might not be meant literally. In spiritual literature, “forty” is often used to indicate a term of learning or change, such as the “forty days and forty nights” of Noah’s Flood. Forty is also called “the number of perseverance,” marking a period of growth through testing, trial and purification. After the exodus from Egypt, the Israelites endured “forty years of wandering” in the wilderness before they were ready to enter the Promised Land. Jesus, following the ancient practice of the prophets, went into the desert for a great seclusion of forty days, which he described as a period of purification and preparation for the next stage of his work. The Buddha attained final enlightenment after forty days of continuous meditation. One can find many examples, East and West.

Soen-sa said, “Do you understand?” The first student shouted “KATZ!!!” Soen-sa said, “Very good. But your understanding is still only conceptual. Sometimes your answers are ‘like this,’ sometimes they show an attachment to emptiness. I will explain the Zen circle once more. At 90° the book is the pencil, the pencil is the book. At 180° you can only answer with a hit or a shout. At 270° the pencil is angry, the book laughs. At 360° the book is blue, the pencil is yellow. Now which one of these four answers is the best?” The student said, “They're all good.” Soen-sa hit him and said, “Today is Saturday.

As the world experiences different seasons, life must also experience different emotions. Everyone strives to be happy in life, but it is impossible to always remain happy. Although Gautama Buddha's ideas about eliminating sadness are beautiful, we should not attempt to eradicate sadness completely because it goes against the natural order. Instead, we should allow life to flow like a river. Just as eternal life on earth would become monotonous, eternal happiness would leave us feeling incomplete. Therefore, a fulfilling life must consist of a mixture of various emotions. Sadness is not a disease; it is an emotion, just like happiness. Furthermore, it would be absurd to be constantly happy. If humans had no sadness, they would laugh inappropriately in both positive and negative situations. For example, when someone experiences an accident, we should not feel joy; we should feel sadness. Happiness is like a fleeting butterfly, and we should cherish the moments when it lands in our lives!

Americans gear all their living to a constantly challenging world and are prepared to accept the challenge. Japanese reassurances are based rather on a way of life that is planned and charted beforehand and where the greatest threat comes from the unforeseen. The Japanese, more than any other sovereign nation, have been conditioned to a world where the smallest details of conduct are mapped and status is assigned. During two centuries where law and order were maintained in such a world with an iron hand, the Japanese learned to identify this meticulously plotted hierarchy with safety and security. So long as they stayed within known boundaries and so long as they fulfilled known obligations, they could trust their world. The Japanese point of view is that obeying the law is repayment upon their highest indebtedness. In spite of the fact that Japan is one of the great Buddhist nations in the world, her ethics at this point contrast sharply with the teachings of Gautama Buddha and of the holy books of Buddhism. The Japanese do not condemn self-gratification. They are not Puritans. They consider physical pleasures good and worthy of cultivation. Buddhist teachers and modern nationalistic leaders have written and spoken on this theme: human nature in Japan is naturally good and to be trusted. It does not need to flight and evil half of itself. It needs to cleanse the windows of its soul and act with appropriateness on every different occasion. The Japanese define the supreme task of life as fulfilling one's obligations. They fully accept the fact that repaying "on" means sacrificing one's personal desires and pleasures. The idea that the pursuit of happiness is a serious goal of life is to them an amazing and immoral doctrine. Happiness is a relaxation in which one indulges when one can. Zen seeks only the light man can find in himself. if you do this, if you do that, the adults say to the children, the word will laugh at you. The rules are particularistic and situational and a great many of them concern what we should call etiquette. They require subordinating one's own will to the ever-increasing duties to neighbors, to family and country. The child must restrain himself, he must recognize his indebtedness. Training is explicit for every art and skill. It is the habit that is taught, not just the rules. Adults do not consider that children will "pick up" the proper habits when the time to employ them comes around. Great things can only be achieved through self-restraint. Japanese people often keep their thoughts busy with trivial minutiae in order to stave off awareness of their real feelings. They are mechanical in the performance of a disciplined routine which is fundamentally meaningless to them. Japan's real strength which she can use in remaking herself into a peaceful nation lies in her ability to say to a course of action: "that failed" and then to throw her energies into other channels. The Japanese have an ethic of alternatives.

Once Zen Master To An was visiting another temple. He wasn't wearing his Zen Master clothes, only the clothes of a wandering monk. He began a conversation with one of the monks at the temple, who did not recognize that he was a Zen Master. Soon the monk began to talk about his Master. “Every day he does one thousand prostrations. He eats only once a day. He hasn't left the temple for thirty years. He is always sitting Zen. He is the greatest Zen Master in all of China.” To An said, “Well well, he sounds like an extraordinary man. I can't do any of these things. I can't bow a thousand times a day; but my mind is never lazy. I can't eat only once a day; but I never desire food. I can't stay in a temple for more than a short time; but wherever I go I have no hindrance. I can't sit Zen for very long; but I never give rise to thinking.” The monk said, “I don't understand.” To An said, “Go ask your Master to explain.” The monk bowed and went into the temple. Soon the Zen Master came running out to To An and prostrated himself three times in front of him. “You are a great Zen Master,” he said. “Please let me become your disciple. I have been very attached to hard training. But now that I have heard your kind words, my mind is clear.” To An laughed and said, “No no, I can't be your teacher. You are already a great Zen Master. All you need to do is to keep the mind you had when you were bowing to me. Already you are a free man. Before, you were bowing, sitting, and eating only for yourself. Now it is for all people.” At these words, the Zen Master began to weep with joy. He bowed again to To An and said, simply, “Thank you.

You still are? There go my plans! And the suit I had bought to attend your funeral. Well, well. Anyway, do call me up when you an't.

He laughed. I had made a joke, apparently. "What difference makes what you believe? What happens will happen anyway, exactly the same, no matter what you believe. What you do makes the important part. What you do.

Learning to read gave us a true oasis, salvation, in the same way that coming to know Jesus or the Buddha might eventually get some of us out of the fray, but it also isolated us. Reading helped us get blissfully lost in resonant worlds where we could rest or gape or laugh with recognition, but then we looked up again, at the dinner table, or the blacktop, or church, and we couldn’t close the covers of those spooky books.

In modern times, if a man quotes a Moses or a Buddha or a Christ, he is laughed at; but let him give the name of a Huxley, a Tyndall, or a Darwin, and it is swallowed without salt.

Take a few minutes to explore extending your loving-kindness to the billions of people living here on earth. Loving-kindness for someone somewhere laughing. Loving-kindness for someone crying. Loving-kindness for someone getting married. Loving-kindness for someone caring for a sick child or parent. Loving-kindness for someone worried. Loving-kindness for someone being born. Loving-kindness for someone dying. Your loving-kindness is flowing comfortably, perhaps in rhythm with the breath. Your loving-kindness is extending to all living beings on this earth. Wishing them all well. All kinds of animals, in the sea, on the earth, in the air: may they all be healthy and at ease. Wishing well to plants of all kinds: may they all be healthy and at ease.

I love you as I do all - not at all.

I suddenly imagined the Buddha, staring at his naval, laughing. The truth is so simple, so free.

You stupid brahmin! You have left the Vedas, but now you are worshipping Buddha’s sayings, the Dhammapada. So what is the point? You have changed your books, you have changed your philosophy, but you remain all the time the same stupid man.” Saraha was shocked. Nobody had talked to him that way; only an uncultured woman can talk that way. And the way she laughed was so uncivilized, so primitive – but still, something was very much alive. He was feeling pulled; she was a great magnet and he was nothing but a piece of iron. Then she said, “You think you are a Buddhist?” He must have been in the robe of the Buddhist monk, the yellow robe. She laughed again and she said, “Buddha’s meaning can only be known through actions, not through words and not through books. Is not enough, enough for you? Are you not yet fed up with all this? Do not waste any more time in that futile search. Come and follow me!” And something happened, something like a communion. He had never felt like that before. In that moment the spiritual significance of what she was doing dawned upon Saraha. Neither looking to the left, nor looking to the right had he seen her – just looking in the middle. For the first time he understood what Buddha means by being in the middle: avoid the excess.

Many people think that meditation simply means sitting and closing your eyes,” the Dalai Lama continued, closing his eyes and taking a stiff posture. “That kind of meditation even my cat can do. He sits there very calmly purring. If a rat comes by, it has nothing to worry about. We Tibetans often recite mantras so much, like Om Mani Padme Hum, a mantra invoking the name of the Buddha of Compassion, that we forget to really investigate the root causes of our suffering. Maybe my purring cat is actually reciting Om Mani Padme Hum.” The Dalai Lama laughed hard at the thought of his devout Tibetan Buddhist cat.

In the same way that Christians will decorate their houses with crosses, or wear them, or how Buddhists will have statues of the laughing Buddha, Wiccans make their altars into shrines to their God and Goddess and to their dedication to their faith.

Sister Chan Khong then began to sing a verse that is drawn directly from a sutra written by the Buddha. The words go like this: This body is not me, I am not caught in this body. I am life without boundaries. I have never been born, and I shall never die. Look at the ocean and the sky filled with stars, manifestations of my wondrous true mind. Since before time, I have been free. Birth and death are only doors through which we pass, sacred thresholds on our journey. Birth and death are just a game of hide and seek. So laugh with me, hold my hand, let us say goodbye, say goodbye, to meet again soon. We meet today.

Sister Chan Khong then began to sing a verse that is drawn directly from a sutra written by the Buddha. The words go like this: This body is not me, I am not caught in this body. I am life without boundaries. I have never been born, and I shall never die. Look at the ocean and the sky filled with stars, manifestations of my wondrous true mind. Since before time, I have been free. Birth and death are only doors through which we pass, sacred thresholds on our journey. Birth and death are just a game of hide and seek. So laugh with me, hold my hand, let us say goodbye, say goodbye, to meet again soon. We meet today. We will meet again tomorrow. We will meet at the source at every moment. We meet each other in all forms of life.