had a knack for finding things amiss.

Therefore, I thought it was only fitting that I put my keen skills of observation to work for me.

At the monastery, I had gotten the hang of receiving notes from the Guestmaster that were challenging for me to read, (Ego crushing notes like “Alex, Please do not leave your shoes on the porch. Be sure to use the shoe rack instead. Gassho, Guestmaster”).

In a flash, I decided I would help the Guestmaster. “If you can’t beat them, join them.” I would catch anyone who was doing something wrong and then tip the Guestmaster off.

Curiously, it made me feel better about myself. Or at least it lessened the sting of feeling bad about myself. If these notes were demolishing me, I could “spread the wealth” and be sure others felt this way too. Goodness knows the Guestmaster only has one set of eyes. I could help him catch more lawbreaking monks and in the process, take the focus off me.

I left notes like, “Guestmaster, John left his shoes on the porch instead of using the shoe rack. Gassho, Alex” and “Guestmaster, Sophia didn’t wash her hands before serving herself food. Gassho, Alex” and “Guestmaster, Todd took an extra spoonful of almond butter at breakfast (the guideline is 1). Gassho, Alex.”

Those notes would go up on the message board with a deeper thrust of the pushpin. A jab that, if it had words, would have said, “Got you sucker!”

Well, funny enough, I didn’t get the appreciation I was expecting. The note I pulled down off the message board for “Alex” one morning didn’t say, “Alex, We noticed your great skills of observation and we didn’t want them to go to waste. Please take over the role of Guestmaster starting today. Gassho, Work Director.”

Instead, it said, “Alex, Over the past three days you have left the lights on in the kitchen after being the last one to leave, burned the beans for lunch today, and forgot to record group the other night. Please pay attention to what you are doing instead of pointing out what others are doing wrong. Gassho, Guestmaster.”

Interestingly enough, no matter how many times I received notes from that message board, I still reacted. I still managed to be shocked, hurt, defensive and then angry. In that order.

Intellectually, I knew that the monastery was bashing the ego and supporting my heart, but I still read those notes as though they were bashing me. I took them personally. I identified with the voices of egocentricity.

Only when I finally did indeed take on the Guestmaster role was I able to see the immense amount of compassion expressed in those notes. Each one pointed a mirror to the recipient with an opportunity to “wake up.” A chance to receive the note as a helpful reminder.

As a moment to say “Thank you.”