Buddhist Thoughts is the SLC Buddhist Temple newsletter which is mailed to Temple members each month. Here we provide excerpts from archival Buddhist Thoughts.

2003 April

The Distant War
by J.K. Hirano

All beings tremble before violence.
All fear death.
All love life.
See yourself in others.
Then whom can you hurt?
What harm can you do?

He who seeks happiness
By hurting those who seek happiness
Will never find happiness

For your brother is like you.
He wants to be happy.

Never harm him
And when you leave this life
You too will find happiness.

-- p. 8 Teachings of the Buddha edited by Jack Kornfield

As a child, one of my favorite toys was a Johnny Seven gun that my parents bought for me. It had missiles, a machine gun, a detachable pistol and a variety of weapons, seven to be exact. There was a field near my home, where my friends and I would battle it out. With my Johnny Seven, I was king of the hill. I would run back and forth defending my turf. If Richard or one of my friends somehow broke pass my missile defense, I had the machine gun to blast them. In a desperate situation where I was attacked by two of them, I could shoot one with the machine gun and finish off the other with my pistol. War was a great game. During the long summers of my youth we would play it for days on end. After a day of killing, we'd get up, dust our selves off and go home for dinner.

One of the other weapons I had received for my birthday was a real B.B. gun. It was a Daisy pump action, with a magazine that held at least 25 BBs. As my father gave it to me, he said, "Never point this at anyone." I'm sure he knew that I was just itching to get one of my friends into the sights to prove my weapons superiority in our next war.

One day, on a visit to my grandparents home, in the hills near the Bingham copper mine, he told me to bring along the gun. He said, "Jerry I know you really want to shoot something, so I'm going to let you. I felt this adrenaline rush, wondering what type of trophy I would bag that day. As we took the long drive up to the hills, I could hardly wait to blast away. When we finally got there, my dad took me out into a field next to grandma and grandpa's house. I was ready with a pocketful of ammo, wondering what type of trophy I'd bag that day. Looking around for a bird or maybe a rabbit, my dad pointed to a large grasshopper sitting on a weed. "Shoot it," he said. He must have sensed my disappointment for he explained, "Before you kill something bigger I want to see you shoot that grasshopper."

Confidently, I walked up to the grasshopper and put the barrel of the gun right up to its head. I blasted that grasshopper's head right off. Just as I was about to let out my victorious scream, I looked down and saw the grasshopper shaking and thrashing on the ground. As the goo dripped out of its headless body, the grasshopper violently shook upon the ground. Rather than a blood curdling cry of victory, I screamed, "Dad, step on it, it's suffering!" My Dad walked over and crushed the grasshopper, putting it out of its misery. I started crying, realizing that I had caused that terrible suffering. My dad looked at me and said, "That is what it's like to shoot something. It's not very fun, is it?" I stared at the crushed lifeless body of the grasshopper and shook my head in agreement. Together we put away the gun and walked into my grandparent's home.

Over the past week, we have been allowed to watch the war in Iraq. It seems so close, yet so far away. We see the bombs going off, reminds me of fourth of July fireworks.< The green of the night vision camera, looks like my playstation video games. The war seems pretty cool, from the comfort of my living room. We hear the soldiers talk about their experiences dressed in their handsome uniforms. Iraq is far, far away. Most of these young men and women look so good, healthy and willing to defend our country. The weapons superiority we have is amazing. Smart bombs, they only blow up buildings that we choose, surgical strikes. Doctors perform surgery to help us get better. Our military is merely conducting preventative medicine.

However, I wonder, after the day is done, will these handsome men and women be allowed to dust off their clothes have dinner and wait for the next day of battle? Where are the victims of our cool smart bombs. Even the evil Saddam is still looking good on T.V.< Where are all the grasshoppers? Namoamidabutsu.

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