Part 2: Richie wasn't satisfied by that logic -- not by a long shot. "So, you send both sides to their corners for a time-out? Send 'em to bed without supper? Meanwhile, people are getting murdered. How can you stand by and watch that happen?" "Sometimes it is all you *can do*. Other times...." The Tibetan paused, reflecting introspectively for a moment before continuing. "It is not merely 'not killing' which Lord Buddha commanded, but the preserving of lives, as well. Under certain circumstances it may be necessary to take a counteraction to stop another's wrongdoing, but I believe that such measures can be enacted without anger. In fact, without anger, the counter measures are much more effective than when your mind is governed by strong afflictive emotion, because under such influence you may not take the appropriate action. Anger destroys one of the best qualities of the human brain -- judgment, the capacity to think, 'This is wrong,' and investigate what the temporary and long term consequences of an action will be. It is necessary to calculate such circumstances before taking action; free of anger, the power of judgment is better." Richie reflected on this for a moment, then volleyed back with a more subdued response than before. "What do you mean, 'counter measures'? You mean it's okay to fight back -- to retaliate with force?" "Not merely 'retaliate,' Richie. That has a far different motivation than preserving human life. I have heard it said that nonviolence sometimes translates into 'surgical violence.' The Buddha did just that, in one of his previous lives, before reaching enlightenment. He was on a boat with five hundred people, and discovered that one of the passengers was a murderer who intended to kill everyone on board. He killed the murderer -- not to save his own life, or to punish the criminal for past offenses. He took one life to save others -- to prevent the future loss of innocent lives." "Ok, so, like a pre-emptive strike." The Tibetan pressed his palms together and raised them up to his lips in thought. "In a sense. However, remember that although he was not yet truly omniscient, he was close to attaining buddhahood, and had insight far superior to that of a normal person. Before one acts in such a situation, one must be utterly convinced that the action was in the best interest of the most number of people in the long run. Purity of motivation must be your guide." He paused, obviously lost in a moment of deep reflection. "It is best to avoid situations where your motivation can be put into question." He paused again, an expression of clarity and peace unfolding on his face. He gestured to the book in Richie's hand, once more. "That is why he is calling for compassion toward those who are the enemies of Tibet. The Chinese have greater hurdles to fear than the anger of those they have invaded. The actions they have committed -- and, I fear, will continue to commit in the future -- contribute to their negative karma. Whatever we do, either in this life or in another, the weight of karma will catch up with us. One day, they will be punished, even if we Tibetans appear to do nothing, even if we have no apparent power." "What comes around, goes around, right?" Richie offered, with a crooked half smile. Tsangyang shrugged slightly. "It is the way of things." "You sound like a monk," Richie jokingly responded, a smile tugging at his mouth. "I was one, once. More than once, actually." Richie perked up. "Really? You sound like a friend of mine. He was a monk, like every other century or something." "Is he a follower of the dharma?" Richie shook his head, sorrow darkening his gaze. "No, I mean, not literally, I guess. But he was a pretty holy guy, though, in his own way. I learned a lot from him." "Then he is a true follower of the dharma, in his own way," Tsangyang parroted. Nodding in understanding, Richie quietly offered, "Yeah, I guess he is... *was*." The Tibetan seemed to focus in on the melancholy in Richie's voice and expression. He closed his eyes and began to silently pray with great intensity, holding a single hand in front of his chest, the fingers forming one of the holy mudra signs Richie had seen countless times in Tibet. Tsangyang finally opened his eyes and met Richie's inquisitive gaze. "How old are you, Richie?" The young man shrugged uncomfortably. "Almost twenty six. Why?" Tsangyang smiled slightly. "When I was half your age, I was first given the pre-novice vows; when I was still younger that you, I returned my vows to my masters, and decided to live in the world. I felt I could serve my people best if I was amongst them, rather than hidden from the world." Richie chuckled. "I bet your masters were pretty ripped." The Tibetan smiled in recollection. "They were extremely disappointed, but I was headstrong, as I believe you are." "Yeah, I've been called that -- and worse. So, what happened?" "When I was only a few years younger than you are now, I was captured by the Mongolian army, but was rescued by two hundred of my faithful monks from Drepung Loseling." Incredulity flashed across Richie's open-mouthed face. "Wait -- a bunch of monks rescued you from an *army*?" "Not the entire army -- a small portion of it only." "Still, man, they musta thought you were *really* special -- even without your robes. What were you, a prince or something?" Tsangyang flashed a rather Enkidu-like smile. "In a sense, I suppose. The monks who saved me would have rather died than turn me over, when the Mongolians soon after surrounded the monastery." In a hushed tone, Richie asked, "What happened?" "I could not allow them to be harmed merely to save my life, so I surrendered. They would only let me leave after I made three promises." "Three promises? What did you promise?" The Tibetan threaded the fingers of his hands together and held his folded hands in front of his chest, above his heart. "That I would not allow the Mongols to harm me, that I would not leave Tibet, and I would return to them unharmed." "Well, they obviously didn't hurt you -- at least, not permanently." "No, I could not let them do that -- I had promised my people, after all." Richie was infinitely impressed with the solemnity of this man. In some ways he reminded Richie so much of the absent Akkadian it hurt. It was the obvious wisdom and thoughtfulness behind everything Tsangyang said -- the collected wisdom of many human lifespans put to good use. "What did you do," he forced himself to ask, choking back tearful memories of the mentor he sorely missed. "I left my body, before we crossed over into Mongol territory." Puzzled by that matter-of-fact statement, Richie mulled it over to discern its true meaning. Figuring it to be a euphemism for suicide, he finally offered, "Oh, okay, I get it." Tsangyang smiled mysteriously -- yet again, that same Mona Lisa expression which Enkidu used whenever he was keeping something to himself. "So, did you return to the monks? Man, they musta freaked out, if you did!" "I kept my word." He glanced down at the picture of the burgundy robed monk on the cover of the book in Richie's hand. "I have returned to them, time after time. I have never abandoned my people." "They need all the help they can get," Richie sadly offered, staring down at the incongruously smiling face of the exiled ruler of a shattered people. Tsangyang reached out and gently placed a hand on one of the youth's shoulders. "Richie, when we meet a real tragedy -- which could happen to any of us -- we can react in two ways. Obviously we can lose hope, let ourselves slip into discouragement, into unending sadness. Or else we can wake ourselves up, discovering in ourselves an energy that was hidden there, and act with more clarity, more force. But not anger." Frustration clearly colored Richie's response. "Yeah, but how much can you take? How much can *anyone* take? Life can't be pain and suffering all the time, right? Where does it end?" "Beyond -- in nirvana." Tsangyang smiled briefly, and patted Richie's shoulder. "It is said that someone who acts as an enemy toward you is your best teacher. They offer us a precious opportunity -- to better ourselves. Shantideva wrote, 'Vanquish your anger, and you shall surely vanquish every enemy'." He noted the confusion on Richie's face, and smiled knowingly. "Perhaps you should begin with the words of the Blessed One himself, and leave the interpretation for another day." He gently took the volume from Richie's hands and replaced it on the shelf. He ran a finger over the spines of several nearby volumes, stopping at a rather tiny and easily overlooked work. With reverence, he gently slid the undersized paperback from the shelf and held it up to the crown of his head. He murmured a silent prayer, then handed it to Richie between pressed palms. "Read, reflect, and learn, Richie Ryan." With a parting enigmatic hint of a smile on his lips, Tsangyang waited for Richie to accept the book, then pressed his palms together and bowed to the young Immortal. With that, he turned to leave in silence. Richie watched the Tibetan leave, his gaze somehow held in rapt awe at the strange nobility in the stranger's every move. With a shake of his head, he tried to dislodge the uneasy sense of the supernatural from his mind, and turned his attention to the small volume still clutched in his hands. He thumbed through the pages, stopped about midway, and began to read aloud in a whisper. "The fool, due to his evil deeds, Suffers as if scorched by fire, He who inflicts pain on the innocent Comes to one of ten calamities." Pursing his lips, the young man nodded slowly in understanding. <<Okay, I can deal with that. What goes around, comes around. Sounds fair.>> He flipped the book over and noted the cheap price. With a smile, he bounded over to the checkout counter with his prize.