Miss Buddha

by Ulf Wolf

  “Do the other institutions agree? UCLA, and so forth.”

  “Yes. They do.”

  “How come we haven’t seen them tear down the scientific halls, so to speak, heralding these findings?”

  “Well, partly because they were not their findings. Institutions like Cal Tech and MIT are very competitive. It’s the not-invented (or discovered)-here syndrome.”

  “Though you would think that findings like these would transcend competition, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes, you would, wouldn’t you?”

  “Still, I’ve not seen much from either UCLA or MIT.”

  “One of the Swedish dailies published a long KTH article about this, with a page one lead.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “And the Australian school?” Clare referred to her notes, “Queensland University of Technology? Anything from them?”

  “Not yet.”

  “I mean, this is ground-breaking. I’d say colossal.”

  “Yes, I’d say colossal, too.”

  “Your paper spends quite a bit of real estate on quantum mechanics. Why is that?”

  “I hope to convey the depth and importance of the findings to the man or woman in the street,” said Ruth. “What we established will not make as much of an impression if you don’t know the relative situation, so to speak.”

  “Einstein would have appreciated this, don’t you think?”

  “I know Bohr would. Not so sure about Einstein.”

  “Yes, he was looking for something more logical.”

  “That’s Einstein for you.”

  “Should people study quantum mechanics? In general, I mean. To get a better grasp on the significance of non-local communication and this looking things into existence.”

  “I don’t know if that’s necessary. As long as they recognize that this surface reality of ours is, as I said, only the tip of the reality iceberg, and is far from actual truth.”

  “What would you suggest then? How to bring this across? I guess the question is, how to wake people up?”

  “I’ve been pondering this questions myself,” said Ruth, looking over at Ananda, who by now had finally taken a seat.

  “Well, your experiment would go a way towards that, wouldn’t it?”

  “I hope so.”

  “We’ll do our best to get the point across,” said Clare, looking over at Lars, who nodded in agreement.

  Clare took another look at her notes to make sure that she had covered all that she had intended. She had. So she looked up at Ruth, “I think that just about does it. Enough meat, I’d say, for a pretty good report.”

  Ruth smiled, and so did Lars.

  “Remember, I’d like to see the final cut,” said Ruth.

  “Yes, absolutely,” agreed Clare.

  :

  The following afternoon, Melissa and Ruth were ushered into the KCRI editing room where they were greeted by Clare and Lars (who was also an accomplished editor, and had volunteered to work on this project with Clare).

  Tea was served and the final cut of the program run through the monitor. Twenty minutes later, as the screen went blank, Ruth said, “Fine.”

  “I’d say,” said Melissa.

  :: 97 :: (Pasadena)

  The Clare Downes interview with Ruth Marten aired on the evening of Tuesday, May 12.

  In a not particularly opaque swipe at KCAA and Federico Alvarez, KCRI billed this as a serious prime time interview—to be followed by a live post-interview expert commentary (the one thing Clare’s producer had insisted on, and which Ruth, after some reflection, reluctantly had agreed to), and was not to be confused with a spectacle or a side-show.

  They had all gathered at Melissa’s to watch the show. Clare (sans Lars, who, having edited it, said he had seen it enough times by now, and wanted the evening off), Julian Lawson, Ruth, Melissa, and that fellow Ananda, whom Clare still could not quite fit into the picture, and was too polite to outright inquire about. He seemed a closer friend to Ruth than to Melisa, and he apparently lived there.

  Julian Lawson was his own oddity. Very focused on the task at hand, very dedicated to Ruth, and very non-attentive to Clare’s looks. In fact, Julian was probably the first male in, well, she could not remember how long, who didn’t eye her on the sly (or overtly, for that matter). Not interested at all, as if she were not even there. Well, as if the good-looks part of her were not even there. Not that she felt like complaining; in fact, it was refreshing. But it took some getting used to and it was hard to let down your guard when no longer needed needed.

  Melissa had cooked a wonderful curry—all vegan, she proclaimed, I hope nobody minds. Which nobody did, Clare included.

  The meal was winding down when the interview came on. Of course, they all knew what to expect from the interview itself, it was the expert commentary to follow that concerned them. How would they receive the interview? Would Ruth be ridiculed? Would she be taken seriously? These were the questions foremost on Ruth’s mind, as well as on hers.

  The final edit, including commercials (which were charged at prime rate plus) ran a full thirty minutes. Another thirty minutes had been set aside by the producer for the live post-interview commentary.

  A panel billed as three experts watched the interview at KCRI’s studios, and would open the commentary immediately following the conclusion of the interview.

  This panel consisted of Cindy Gilchrist, professor of Ontology at USC, Carl Brecht, professor of Oriental Studies at UCLA, and Abbot Timothy White, abbot at the Los Angeles Franciscan mission.

  As the interview was winding down, and the announcer exhorted all viewers to stay tuned for the panel discussion, Ananda asked:

  “Who picked the panel?”

  “They were all selected and invited by my producer,” she answered.

  “Are we going to get a fair hearing from them?” Ananda again.

  “From Cindy Gilchrist, I’m pretty sure. I’ve met her a couple of times, and she seems a sweetheart. And most likely from Abbot White as well. He is an old, well-established, and well-respected religious figure in Los Angeles. He’s known to be very levelheaded, and fair. And he’s a good listener, is how my producer characterized him.

  “Carl Brecht, on the other hand, although he is a professor of Oriental Studies, usually takes a dim view of what he finds in these studies. He is a Sanskrit scholar and has read much of the Vedas and Upanishads in the original language and has been known to call them fairy tales.”

  “Does he know Pali?” asked Ruth.

  “I don’t know,” said Clare.

  “Does he regard the Pali Canon as fairy tales as well?” Ananda’s question.

  “I don’t know how familiar he is with the Pali Canon. I couldn’t say.”

  “How old are they?” asked Melissa.

  “Cindy Gilchrist is about your age, I’d guess. Carl Brecht is in his early sixties, again my guess. And Abbot White is ancient. He has to be eighty if he’s a day.”

  “Interesting,” said Ananda—who of course was at least eighty himself if he was a day.

  “Okay,” said Ruth, turning to the screen. “Here we go.”

  The moderator turned out to be Clare’s producer, Vivian Taft. This came as a surprise to Clare. “I wonder who’s producing this segment then,” she said. Nobody answered, though.

  Vivian Taft put the first question to Cindy Gilchrist, not beating about any bushes, “Is it possible, do you think, that this young, attractive, prodigy of a girl, can be—as her paper implies—the Buddha reincarnated?”

  “Possible?” said Gilchrist. “That’s a very generous term. Really, anything is possible. I am not sure how likely it is, though.”

  “You don’t think it’s likely?” In that confirming tone of voice that moderators seem to like.

  “No, not really. The remarkable experiment notwithstanding, it just seems too far-fetched. And in some ways too pat.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I
mean it would fit too well. Sort of unbelievably well. Hard to accept.”

  “So what do you think she means; I am awake?”

  Before she could answer, Carl Brecht leaned into his microphone and suggested, “Perhaps to spice up a boring paper.”

  “Do you mean her account of the EPROM experiment?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, I take it you don’t find it fascinating.”

  “Not particularly, no.”

  “Why do you say that? It strikes me as quite a breakthrough in the field of quantum mechanics.”

  “Well,” said Brecht. “That’s where it belongs. Precisely where you just put it: in quantum mechanics. The world has done well over the last many millennia without the questionable details of particle physics, and will go on doing well for the next many.”

  “I don’t agree with that,” said Gilchrist. “I found the findings of the EPROM experiment absolutely fascinating. And the fact that the experiment has been replicated successfully speaks volumes, I think. But,” she added, “that does not make the young girl at the center of all this a Buddha. It makes her a prodigy and a brilliant researcher, but not a Buddha.”

  “How about you Abbot White,” said Taft. “Where do you come down on this?”

  Timothy White looked every one of his eight-four years as he leaned slightly in the direction of his microphone. “I think,” he said with a soft but still vibrant voice, “that this young woman is a remarkable person. Absolutely remarkable.” Then added, “I wouldn’t rule anything out.”

  “Are you saying,” said Taft, “that you would allow that she might be the Buddha returned?”

  “I had no idea that the Roman Catholic Church endorsed reincarnation,” interjected Brecht, apparently not quite on board with the protocol of the situation.

  “As I said,” said the Abbot calmly in his almost velvety voice, ignoring Brecht’s rudeness, “I would not rule anything out. A year ago I would not have believed it even remotely possible that life, at its core, expects or measures particles into being. But, evidently it does. And there is not a very large leap from there to Miss Marten being who she says she is. Which, by the way, is that she’s awakened. She does not say that she is the Buddha.”

  “Oh, I think you’re splitting hairs here. I think the paper is quite clear on that,” offered Gilchrist. “What else can she mean? First she says that those who have woken up to the fact that there is nothing but life are called Buddhas. Then she goes on to say that she is awake. Those are the last three words of the paper. I don’t think there is any equivocation here, do you?”

  “There is no arguing about that,” said the Abbot. Again as calmly. “She does say what she says.”

  “Now,” said Taft, looking directly at Brecht. “If we were to assume for a minute that Ruth Marten is in fact the Buddha. What impact do you think this could have on the religious landscape here in the United States? Well, in the world, for that matter?”

  Brecht shifted importantly in his chair before answering. Then he said, “If she were the Christ returned, and so proven,” at which he looked around at his colleagues, particularly at Abbot White, who was studying his hands. “If she were Jesus Christ, now, that would be an impact. As for the Buddha, the western world doesn’t care much about Buddhism and would probably care even less whether she was the Buddha or not.”

  “I disagree,” said Gilchrist again, not seeming particularly to care for Brecht. “Statistically, Buddhism is the fastest growing religion in our country. People, according to recent surveys, turn to Buddhism because it is not faith-based. Because it offers, or at least seems to offer, an actual path of enlightenment, a way that can be traveled by the individual. People today find that appealing. So I believe that if she were the Buddha, if that was established fact—and I have no idea how you would objectively establish that—”

  “By appearing to raise someone’s chair?” suggested Brecht, which earned him two quick glances from his panel co-members.

  “If that were established fact,” repeated Gilchrist pointedly, “I think it would have an effect indeed, both here and abroad.”

  “Right,” said Taft. “Now, speaking of chairs, what is your take on that?”

  “Staged, surely,” said Gilchrist. “Miss Marten has already confirmed that.”

  “Agreed,” said Brecht. “I’m not sure how they did it, but I’m positive that it was staged. I wouldn’t put it past Alvarez.”

  “I would not rule anything out,” said the Abbot again.

  “You would not?” said Taft, apparently not a little surprised at the Abbot’s leanings.

  “Miracles do occur,” he said. “History is replete with them.

  “Yes, but not on television,” said Brecht.

  “And she did state that it was a hoax,” said Taft.

  “I know what she said,” said the Abbot. And then, with a little more weight to his voice, the Abbot said, “Miracles do happen. Miracles have always happened. But today we seem only to give credence to those that occurred in the distant past. We have ruled them out as present-day possibilities.

  “In fact,” he added, before Brecht could voice what he had drawn a deep and obvious breath to offer. “I consider the outcome of the EPROM experiment a miracle. And in the final analysis, are not miracles just natural phenomena that we do not quite understand yet?”

  “Good point,” said Taft. Then, “Let’s take a quick break. We’ll be right back.”

  On to commercial.

  “I like the Abbot,” said Ruth.

  “I like him, too,” said Ananda. “He’s a smart man.”

  “You did a really great job, Clare,” said Melissa, referring to the interview. “A good focus on the right things, and so clearly presented. And,” she turned to Ruth, “you, too, of course.”

  Ruth smiled at her mom, but said, “Brecht is a funny one. Oriental Studies, is that what you said, Clare?”

  “Yes, apparently.”

  “There is very little that’s Oriental about him.”

  “I agree,” said Clare. “He’s an odd one.”

  “Can I ask you something,” said Clare to the three of them.

  “Sure,” said Melissa, but before Clare could voice her question the expert panel discussion returned from commercial.

  “Miss Marten, in her paper, makes the point that the world doesn’t really care about the eighty-five or so percent of reality that’s below water, as she puts it. Why do you think this is, Abbot White?”

  “In my experience, people are not afraid of what they can see, no matter how frightening, they are afraid of what they cannot see. And they can only see, as this young girl put it, the tip of the iceberg. What’s beneath the surface may be as benign as anything, but unseen it is still a threat and is best ignored.”

  “I agree with that assessment,” said Gilchrist.

  “I don’t know if fear is the right word,” offered Brecht.

  “What is the right word, then?” asked Taft.

  “Irrelevance,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” said Taft.

  “As I said earlier, whether or not elemental particles split and then co-know instantly across inconceivable distance has no bearing on your paycheck. Has no bearing on your happiness here and now. That data is irrelevant.”

  “I see,” said Taft.

  “I think what the girl is alerting us to,” said the Abbot, “is that life as lived today is very stressful, and as Thoreau said, lived in quiet desperation. And life will continue to be stressful and quietly desperate until, or unless, we look at all of life, at all levels. I think she is right. So I think it is relevant.”

  “You sound less like a Catholic than a Buddhist,” said Brecht.

  “Perhaps I should take that as a compliment,” said the Abbot.

  “Cindy,” said Taft. “What if the rising chair was not a hoax?”

  “But it was a hoax,” said Gilchrist. “She categorically stated that on camera the following day. Staged by Federico Al
varez.”

  “Okay, that’s true. She did say that. But let’s assume it was not a hoax.”

  “Are you saying that she lied,” said Gilchrist.

  “Perhaps she did. Who knows? Quite a few people, including those at KCAA who worked the program, insist there was no funny business about the incident. If only for argument’s sake, let’s assume it happened, that it was a miracle. Let’s assume that Ruth Marten made the chair rise with Alvarez in it. If that were to be proven true, what impact would that have on our country, from a religious standpoint?”

  “Okay, for argument’s sake,” said Gilchrist. “That would be telekinesis in the extreme. And it would show Ruth Marten as more than just human, it would make her some sort of deity, I think. In fact, she could start her own religion based on this; if it were proven, of course—which it won’t be. Can’t be. It was a hoax.”

  “You Doctor Brecht?”

  “If it were proven beyond a doubt?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, then I agree with Ms. Gilchrist. The girl could write her own ticket. Start her own religion. Make a fortune.”

  (“I do not like that man,” said Ruth. All heads nodded in agreement).

  “You, Abbot White?” said Taft.

  “In that case, if this miracle is proven true, I think we ought to take this girl seriously. I think we ought to take this girl seriously in any event.”

  “And, with that, let’s take another short break,” said Taft.

  Off to commercial.

  “My question,” said Clare, who had cradled it, ready to go.

  “Oh, yes,” said Melissa.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way,” she said, looking at Ananda, “but, how do you fit it? I mean, are you related to the family? I don’t see a resemblance.”

  “Good question,” said Ananda, and then actually chuckled. Something that became him.

  “He’s actually Ruth’s friend,” said Melissa, but then looked as if she’d like to take that one back.

  “I’ve known him for a long time,” said Ruth. Stress on long.

  Then Clare finally made the almost terrifying connection, “Ananda.”

  Ruth nodded, “Yes, that Ananda.”