I come from a country where happiness is measured in the leisurely turn of Buddhist prayer wheels. Maybe that is why I find my peace of mind challenged daily by the deluge of advertising and commerce that seems the mainstay of American life.
Navigating the fabled information superhighway I take many turns and exits that only lead to clever advertising and a maze of online shopping malls.
Switching on the television I have difficulty telling the shows from the commercials. One had me fooled till the end, mainly by parading police officers, criminal psychologists, former car thieves and all manner of "informed opinion" on how and why people get their cars stolen. And the sum of all this expert scrutiny? Every car owner must buy their revolutionary anti-theft device, available for only US$ 89.99- a special price, just for the viewers of our program.
Driving north from San Luis Obispo to San Francisco on highway 101, I turn on the car radio and hear the Big Mac Burger described in rapid-fire mouth-watering detail followed instantaneously by the sight outside the windows of the golden arches rearing to the sky.
I know the people in the car behind me were tuned to the same channel. They veered into the exit, tires squealing.
In San Francisco giant billboards of women with impossibly skinny bodies and men chiseled enough to turn a Greek marble statue green with envy grab my attention, smile, or grin amusingly at me from on high. From the pages of newspapers and magazines, from the sides and backs of buses, through the windows of shops and off building walls they tempt me, tease me, and make me wish I could be like them. If only I could buy the right clothes, wear the right cologne, drive the right car, listen to the right music, play the right sports...
But it is on Market Street and Third Avenue, close to the heart of the city’s busy financial district, that I feel the unleashed power of image-making and brand-selling.
For it is here that the advertising billboards and commercials converge subliminally with the megastores and designer shopping malls offering all manner of earthly goods. Here I feel the distinct tear and pull of desire in a hundred different directions.
Should I "Just do it" with NIKE or "Think different" with the racecar sleek iMacs from Apple Macintosh?
Now that I know I need new shoes I also need a new wardrobe.
I could begin with underwear from oh-so-stylish (and ouch-so-expensive!) Calvin Klein and work my way to the Armani store. And if I have to wear blue jeans let it at least be from Levi’s across the street.
A very long time ago before radio, television, internet or any modern media the Buddha taught that the union of illusion and ignorance produces desire, which in turn begets more ignorance, illusion, and desire.
"Like a dog chasing it’s own tail," he said. "And then you die." Or something to that effect.
I have to confess the prayer wheels in my country are also an advertisement tool of sorts.
They are tall wide cylinders twice the height of the average human being. The Buddha’s lessons on the impermanence of life and the links he saw between illusion, ignorance and desire are contained within and emblazoned out in earth colors pleasing to the eye.
A strong wooden pole or metal rod goes through the cylinder and emerges from its base like a central axis. Several wooden propellers fan out from the axis at its base.
Entire villages and communities turn out to install one of these prayer wheels over a fast running stream. A small shrine of wood and rock is then built to shelter the wheel from wind, sun, and rain, and given a generous coat of whitewash to render it visible from a distance (like passing McDonald’s on the freeway, I guess).
The force of the water turns the propellers which cranks the wheel and sets it moving. A small brass bell hangs from the ceiling of the shrine, and the spin of the wheel is paced so a switch projecting arm-like from the top of the cylinder hits the bell every few minutes. With each rhythmic ring of the bell the weary wayfarer is reminded to drink from the stream, and step lightly on.
"Ping!"
The pure note of the bell pierces the veil of time, renewing the message of the Enlightened One.
"Ping!"
Life is an illusion.
"Ping!"
Awakening your mind from the illusion is the way to true and lasting freedom.
"Ping!"
Pausing in the rush and clamor of the aptly named Market Street I find myself facing an illuminated advertisement kiosk with the encapsulated image of a sensuous, long legged girl.
The suggestive cut of her dress makes me swallow hard.
I close my eyes and strain to hear those Buddhist bells.
Karma Singye Dorji
