You’re not going to believe this...
“If, out of hate and resentment, someone plots to harm you, you should mold an image of the person out of clean earth, flour, or wax. Before a thousand-eyed image, say the mantra 108 times over a steel knife of fine quality. Slice the statue into 108 pieces as you recite the mantra once over each slice. After each slice, call the name of the person who wishes to harm you. Burn all 108 slices. That person will be delighted and will respect you until the end of his life.”
- Ven. Tripitaka Master Hsüan Hua, The Dharani Sutra, The Buddhist Text Translation Society, San Francisco, 1976, pp. 105-106.
I decided to give it a try.
Some of you know that I’m currently undergoing a textbook case of Sexual Harassment at work. The mantra referred to above is the Great Compassion Mantra, and having recited it faithfully for 6.5 years with purely benign intentions, I felt entitled to test its defensive qualities on my yiffy boss.
The Great Compassion Mantra calls for the protection of Avalokitesvara, popularly known as Kuan Yin, or the Goddess of Mercy. She has a thousand-armed, thousand-eyed form, and is sometimes referred to as Chun Ti Pu’sa (or Chun Ti Bodhisattva) like this. Some artists and sculptors portray the full set of arms and eyes, but the simplified version is more commonly seen:
I bought a small penknife and consecrated it as prescribed. There was trouble finding the right kind of flour: I had a choice, in decreasing order of starchiness, between tapioca, corn, glutinous rice, regular rice and wheat. So I settled for regular rice, and (never having kneaded dough in my life) had some degree of trouble mixing the water and getting the right consistency for my doll-making.
The result was a “gingerbread woman” approximately 8 inches in length. The sutra didn’t say anything about baking, so I blasted it with a hair-drier for 20 minutes, and left it to set on a low table in my room.
You know what?
My dog ate it.
Here she is:
Good thing there was nothing toxic in the doll - only rice flour and water, and no needles.
What do I make of this? Is my lecherous boss so divinely protected, that my attempt to charm her malevolence away could only fail? I don’t think so... Firstly because the only protection she has wouldn’t be Heavenly - rather the opposite - and secondly because I feel that any diabolical intrusion would easily be jammed by the Bodhisattva.
I can only conclude, therefore, that the Bodhisattva did not wish me to initiate the charm. My mind reels with possible reasons...
Trixie now sneaks into my room hoping to find more ricecakes when she thinks no-one’s watching.