He lives blissfully on what most would
consider an austerity budget.
March 6, 2023 by Denise Linville
I met Vajramati on a dating site. I thought Buddhist Monks weren’t allowed to date or marry, but apparently that’s only true for some Buddhist traditions. I don’t usually enjoy the ritual of dating. Making small talk with a stranger isn’t fun or interesting to me, but I felt instantly at ease with him, not awkward and weird like I usually feel. We fell straight into a deep conversation, like we’d known each other forever and were just catching up after a long separation.
I liked the contradiction of the beaded necklaces he wore, with his very proper British accent. He informed me with a chuckle that he spoke “BBC English” thanks to his mother’s insistence on elocution lessons, lest he fall prey to the local dialect where he grew up. His accent never left him, even after more than 30 years in the United States, having moved to NYC to teach Buddhism.
He doesn’t so much practice Buddhism, as he is Buddhism. I have a decent grasp of Buddhist philosophy, but I’d never known someone before, who’d lived faithfully by those principals over the course of a lifetime. Vajramati brings Buddhism to life for me in a very reassuring way.
He is quick to delight in the simple pleasures in life. Each morning he makes himself the same simple breakfast, yet every morning you would think it was the first time he’d ever experienced such a treat. If we could all get so excited over a cup of coffee and a piece of toast with butter and Marmite, I have no doubt the world would be a vastly different place. Often, he’ll chuckle and say to himself, “That’s right! It’s the good life for me!” without a trace of irony. That kind of happiness is radical.
He feels the same way about his morning shower. The simple fact of hot water is appreciated every morning anew. In fact, he doesn’t call it showering, he calls it, “luxuriating”. “I’m going to luxuriate now” means he’ll be in the shower. “Well, I’m certainly luxuriating now!” is a common phrase with him- he’s always luxuriating over something.
He wears the same uniform every day- dark blue jeans and a white button-down oxford. He has three shirts and three pair of jeans and yet somehow, he always manages to look very stylish- with his beads and the addition of an English driving cap and scarf at wintertime. When leaving the apartment, he’ll appraise his appearance and say, “That’s right, I’m Natty-mati!” (a play on Vajramati).
The perfect economy of his lifestyle isn’t lost on me. He never has to waste time thinking about what to wear, and he doesn’t have to work the extra days required to earn the money to buy a more elaborate wardrobe. Extra clothing also requires additional manufacturing, potentially by children or other exploited persons, and harm to the environment on multiple levels, not the least being additional landfill waste. His life makes sense, for him and for the planet, and nothing ever goes to waste.
He lives blissfully on what most would consider an austerity budget. Being a Buddhist Monk is not a paying job- he teaches and counsels for free and supported himself on the small salary he receives working for an ethical non-profit before his retirement.
Vajramati gets his exercise walking up and down the five flights of stairs to his tiny studio apartment, where he’s lived for twenty years. He loves his apartment and relishes the sunlight that streams in through the tall windows full of plants. I’ve tried to get him to move somewhere more sensible as he gets older, but he loves his apartment and doesn’t want to give up such a cozy spot. “Everything is within reach!” he tells me. He’s as excited about this apartment today as he was when he moved in twenty years ago.
His generosity is unending, and yet he never expects a thing in return. I’ve noticed that people who expect some sort of “payback” for things they profess to be giving away freely, are some of the most unhappy people I’ve ever met. The joy he gets from giving is its own reward.
Most years he still manages to spend two months living simply in Europe, often staying with friends or at meditation retreats that host him for free, or for a small fee. I think that what a lot of us don’t realize is that by living very simply and learning to be creative with how we get by, we can still live a great life! Think of all the extra free time you will have if you start valuing your life more than your career or your possessions.
A lot of the money we spend is just chuff- money that we know we wouldn’t be spending if we just thought for a few moments longer. But we’re in a hurry and we’re paying for convenience- we pay not to have to think. Most of us go through our lives in a sort of daze, allowing ourselves to be marketed and advertised to, then spending our money in a knee-jerk reaction to whatever new shiny object is dangled in front of our eyes. We even know this, but we want that next dopamine-hit. We’re addicted.
In Buddhist terms, this state of wanting more and more is called “grasping”. Over time, as we cede more and more control, we become less and less ourselves, and it becomes harder and harder to experience true pleasure.
I’ve even watched him handle a cancer diagnosis, one with an awful cure, without missing a beat. He just shrugged, accepted it, and moved on. He didn’t need to go through the hand wringing and anger and fear that would have plagued me, because he’s already accepted that nothing is permanent, especially youth and good health.
I knew from the start that there was an expiration date on our future as a couple, but I was always certain we’d be friends forever. I just wish everyone could have a Vajramati in their lives. When the world starts feeling overwhelming and bleak, I remind myself to start living more like him, and that helps me get back on track.
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