By Spike Wilner
For those of you who know me, you know that I consider myself to be a Buddhist. One of my most cherished memories of the year was when we had a purification ritual performed at Mezzrow by my friend jazz pianist & Zen priest Jeremy Manasia. A small brass Buddha was presented to us and became the club's Buddha. After the ceremony we found a place for him in a windowsill where he sits serenely in meditative repose listening to all the great piano players.
One night at the end of December I noticed that a customer had placed his bag on the sill. Normally I don’t mind if drinks or things are placed there – we’re a bar, not a monastery, so I didn’t say anything. About ten minutes later I came back around and notice that the Buddha was gone! I couldn’t believe it. I searched around with a flashlight but to no avail. I was stricken with dread. This was definitely a bad omen – to have the club’s Buddha stolen. I asked my bartender and waitress about it, who were equally shocked, but nobody had an answer. But in my mind I heard a voice say, “the guy with the bag stole him”.
The guy with the bag was now sitting on the other side of the room. He kind of had a glazed look in his eye. I approached him gingerly; “sir, we’ve lost our little Buddha statue. I noticed you had your bag there a few moments ago. Did you see it or, perhaps, see anyone near it?” He looked at me and said; “I don’t know anything about that.” There was something in his eye and I knew he was lying. “Are you sure?” I asked again. “I don’t know anything about It.,” he reiterated.
Now I was really getting depressed. I take omens very seriously and was trying to think about what karmic infraction I could have made to have such a cosmically serious event such as having the club’s Buddha stolen imposed upon us. I know I had yelled at my poor mother the day before – perhaps this was my punishment. I went about my business in a dark mood cleaning up glasses and patrolling the club.
About 20 minutes later, the guy with the bag was now standing in a line for our restroom. I walked past him and looked him in the eye as I passed. He glanced at me. Then, for some reason I don’t understand, I looked back at him and saw in his back pocket our Buddha! It was just sticking out of his back pocket. I turned back and grabbed it. “Sir, what is this?!”. He was stunned. “Ok, just get out of the club”, I said angrily. His face changed – “I’m sorry”, he stammered, “I’m so sorry…” My anger left me. “Ok, no problem”, I said, “I’m just glad to get it back.” Then the guy burst into tears! Sobbing uncontrollably he began to say things like; “I love this club… I’m having a terrible time with my girlfriend…, etc.”. I felt this guy’s pain and shame. Realizing that I had to be a Buddha myself, I took a compassionate stance. “Ok, ok”, I said placatingly, “All is forgiven. Please don’t worry about it.” At that, he turned around and left the club.
Kind of in shock, I placed the Buddha back in his place and Buddha went right back to his contemplative meditation. I carefully examined the statue. Was he smiling? It seemed to me that there was a little grin on his beatific face. The rest of the evening went smooth as silk...
My best wishes to you and your loved ones for the New Year. I hope to see everyone at Smalls and Mezzrow.
One night at the end of December I noticed that a customer had placed his bag on the sill. Normally I don’t mind if drinks or things are placed there – we’re a bar, not a monastery, so I didn’t say anything. About ten minutes later I came back around and notice that the Buddha was gone! I couldn’t believe it. I searched around with a flashlight but to no avail. I was stricken with dread. This was definitely a bad omen – to have the club’s Buddha stolen. I asked my bartender and waitress about it, who were equally shocked, but nobody had an answer. But in my mind I heard a voice say, “the guy with the bag stole him”.
The guy with the bag was now sitting on the other side of the room. He kind of had a glazed look in his eye. I approached him gingerly; “sir, we’ve lost our little Buddha statue. I noticed you had your bag there a few moments ago. Did you see it or, perhaps, see anyone near it?” He looked at me and said; “I don’t know anything about that.” There was something in his eye and I knew he was lying. “Are you sure?” I asked again. “I don’t know anything about It.,” he reiterated.
Now I was really getting depressed. I take omens very seriously and was trying to think about what karmic infraction I could have made to have such a cosmically serious event such as having the club’s Buddha stolen imposed upon us. I know I had yelled at my poor mother the day before – perhaps this was my punishment. I went about my business in a dark mood cleaning up glasses and patrolling the club.
About 20 minutes later, the guy with the bag was now standing in a line for our restroom. I walked past him and looked him in the eye as I passed. He glanced at me. Then, for some reason I don’t understand, I looked back at him and saw in his back pocket our Buddha! It was just sticking out of his back pocket. I turned back and grabbed it. “Sir, what is this?!”. He was stunned. “Ok, just get out of the club”, I said angrily. His face changed – “I’m sorry”, he stammered, “I’m so sorry…” My anger left me. “Ok, no problem”, I said, “I’m just glad to get it back.” Then the guy burst into tears! Sobbing uncontrollably he began to say things like; “I love this club… I’m having a terrible time with my girlfriend…, etc.”. I felt this guy’s pain and shame. Realizing that I had to be a Buddha myself, I took a compassionate stance. “Ok, ok”, I said placatingly, “All is forgiven. Please don’t worry about it.” At that, he turned around and left the club.
Kind of in shock, I placed the Buddha back in his place and Buddha went right back to his contemplative meditation. I carefully examined the statue. Was he smiling? It seemed to me that there was a little grin on his beatific face. The rest of the evening went smooth as silk...
My best wishes to you and your loved ones for the New Year. I hope to see everyone at Smalls and Mezzrow.
