Where is He Running to?

On my way to the bus-stop just outside my work-place, I saw a distant familiar figure hobbling on the pavement. I paused for him to approach, while waiting to cross the road. As he drew closer, it became more and more clear that he was who I thought it was. An acquaintance from about 12 years ago. Back then, I was the chairperson of the Youth Mission in the temple. I had organised a camp and he was one of the participants. He looked the same from afar – the same sports attire, the same body shape… but with an awkward limp while seemingly trying to do big-walking. The only other visible difference when he came upclose was that his eyes looked more old and weary.

He used to practise running everyday in the surrounding neighbourhood. It was his passion. It still seems to be his passion – though he wasn’t exactly running. We waved at each other and had a short chat. Knowing how much he loved running, I asked if his right leg was okay. He replied that it had been that way for some time already, with no hope of recovery – due to a running injury. I didn’t know what to say to that. Trying to offer some empathetic condolences, I remarked that my knees have problems from running too. He excitedly said he could run 2.4 km in around 8 minutes, asking me what was my best timing. I simply grinned and said my timing wasn’t fantastic; that it was a just-pass timing.

It was poignant to me that he didn’t see the poignancy of his situation… It didn’t really matter anymore that he could run very well; because he can’t now. It didn’t matter that he could run better than most, because even I, a poor runner can walk faster than him now. He was still basking in past marathon glories, though he never won major championships. I asked about his life in general. Sadly, he still wasn’t holding a steady job – after all these years. He said he kept getting sacked for some reason. I gently replied that if this is so, it is very likely that it could be due to him having some character problems. He was agreeable. I encouraged him to join the Dharma classes in the temple we were standing outside of – for his personal development.

He replied that each course require about $20, that he is living off his sister. I then encouraged him to attend the free public talks that the temple holds. He nodded tentatively. I even encouraged him to join the free weekly Pureland Practice Fellowship sessions – to not just learn, but to discuss and practise the Dharma too. Once again, he nodded tentatively. My heart sank a little – I knew he was not likely to turn up, and it has been a few weeks since I met him already. Why does he choose not to come? Is it due to sheer laziness, or lack of faith in the Dharma, or due to shame of his situation? I’ll find out when I bump into him again.

Meeting him was a solemn reminder to me – to not take refuge in physical achievements, or even one’s own body, because even the most fit body will deteriorate in time, inevitably ending in death. With an able body, one should utilise it to more efficiently learn the Dharma. With a decrepit or ailing body, the Dharma would take even higher priority, because life is indeed running out. Now that we are grown-ups, spiritual growth is more important that physical muscle growth – that can’t be brought over to the next life. If only he focuses on the Dharma with the same diligence as he does on running. Living nearby, he had run outside and around the temple for years, while not really entering it, while missing the Dharma it represents, that it presents. His running only got him going in circles – to nowhere in particular. He thought his True Happiness was in running, but it was his cyclic Samsara. We parted with a mutual ‘Take care!’ I was referring to care for his spiritual life… more than anything else.