Buddhist Fortune; or, Wealth and Health

Ten years ago this month, my sister and I met in NYC for my 35th birthday. It was fun, with trips to museums and theatres, shopping and eating, and the kind of sister-time you enjoy once you are adults and really like each other. I loved New York City in winter and with the very cold weather (it was -10º a couple of days), found myself huddled up next to total strangers, waiting for the newly refurbished MoMA to open. So much for New Yorkers being completely standoffish. . .

A few places stood out over others. One was the Bethesda Fountain in Central Park, important to the Mike Nichols' film version of Tony Kushner's Angels in America, the beautiful and powerful play about the AIDS epidemic in the 1980s. I love the final scene where the characters speak of the symbolism of this angel, and to see her in real life was, well, a happy and moving experience.

The second place with a big emotional impact was the former site of the World Trade Center. It was, of course, heart-wrenching. What I did find surrounding that gigantic scar were little glimpses of hope. Only a block or so away, we found a little surprise, a tiny Buddhist temple. Inside from the cold we encountered hundreds of little shrines for those who perished during 9/11, covering every surface in the space. We both gave a donation and got a "fortune." 

Mine said: "Probability of Success: Excellent.  Ne'er worry about your wealth, But take good care of your health. In time you will be matured, And have your future secured." 

When I found the tiny scroll hidden away in a jewelry box, I honestly had no recollection of what my "fortune" said. The tiny shrines with faces of 9/11 victims always have been what I remembered about that place. Today it was the words that affected me. 

I am not very superstitious and not a big believer in fortunes or horoscopes. But to look at it as a solid piece of advice, it really is something that today means more to me than 10 years ago. 

In ten years, our monetary wealth has changed and been at times on various ends of two extremes. With moving here, we have given up many of our material possessions, and every day I wake up with the goal of downsizing just a little bit more. We still have so much "stuff," so much more than we need to live a comfortable life, but I feel that in ten years, I have learned to care less about the things that surround me (and concern myself more with the people who surround me). 

I do worry less about our economic situation today than 10 years ago, when we were considering having another child (we would have #2 a little less than a year after that NYC trip). As we are aging, health is, of course, a great concern. 

There are innumerable reasons that we moved here, and honestly, we can look back 2+ years later and figure out that subconsciously, there were probably more reasons than we realized at the time. Since August, I have taken on a new role at school (not necessarily my choice), and with that has come a lot more stress, many more hours away from my family, and much less free time to do stress-relieving activities such as exercising and art. To get away from a life like that was probably the number one reason I considered moving here, yet I am finding myself back in the 60 hour work week grind. It's frustrating as hell, and I find it affects my health, as well. 

I have decided to work on what I can control. I can't control that I work in a death-by-meeting setting (thus the need to spend 8-10 hours at work on the weekends), but I can work on improving my health. I am trying to eat better, and I am making a vow to not work 10 hour days, three or four days in a row, ever again. I haven't been to an exercise class since I sprained my ankle in April, and I need to gradually get back into a more active life. (I've tried easing back into running again twice, but I think I am out of running indefinitely). I am taking care of some health issues that have nagged me since I moved here. If that means I have to take time off of work, so be it---I can only be more productive and happier once I am healthier. 

So the tiny little scroll that served as a souvenir to a very moving, very rewarding birthday trip now serves as a reminder that I need to stop, slow down, and take better care of myself. 

After all, what good is wealth if your health is so poor, you can't enjoy it?