The third day in Buenos Aires was chilly, as I had been told it would be. I ran down to the door to find a bald young man with a expressive face waiting for me. His name was Jorge and he was here to take Brooke and I out to eat some real Arengtinian food. Brooke was tired so it was just “solamente mi” I said.
He answered back in a fragmented and strange English which still far surpassed my Spanish. As we walked the long blocks to the Empanada restaurant, I pieced together that he had been an actor, but was now an art journalist and an artist. I tired to tell him that I had been a teacher and was now a writer, but I couldn’t come up with the Spanish past tense, so I mostly let him talk.
When we arrived in the small, warm restaurant, Jorge was greated with smiles and hellos from all the people who worked their, especially the owner. His personality was large, like him, and his smile warm and laughing. As he became more comfortable, he spoke about art in Buenos Aires and the complications of its social structures and heirarchies. He told me about his father, Jorge Porcel de Parelta, and who had been a famous comedian in Argentina. And as he spoke with passion and energy about the world, I had this echo of a thought: “He has the same energy as the most vibrant of SGI members.”
The previous six months I had lived with my parents in Largo FLorida and hadn’t joined up with the local SGI community. I had my gohonzon in my room, but I was in a soliatary frame of mind and kept it that way. I had forgotten about the texture and power of those who are chanting- that vibration that makes you feel like anything is possible.
He asked me if I wanted to go dancing later and of course I said yes. We talked for another hour and then left to go pick up a friend of his. As we were walking through the Jewish section on Palermo, Buenos Aires, it prompted me to ask his religion. He said, “Lately I have been practicing Buddhism.”
We had settled on French for communication since we both knew it better than we knew each other’s languages, so I said I French.
“Oh! I practice Buddhism, too.”
“What type?” he asked.
Trying to get it right, I said, “Je pratique un bouddhisme japonais…”
And that was all I needed to say before he stopped and grabbed my arm, “Nam Myoho Renge Kyo?” he said.
“Yes!”
We gave each other a huge hug, the kind you would do finding a long-lost family member.
“I should have known!” I said, “You felt like an SGI member!”
I don’t find it very easy to be a part of a community or to stay strong in my practice, but I believe that these sort of coincidences have happened far for me not to not be amazed, awed, and delighted by them. My travels in South Africa, New York State, Argentina, and other states always show me again and again that SGI members really are of one heart. It is a beautiful thing.
Please, if you have any experiences like this to share, write in and we’ll post it for everyone to read.
RONALD ALFREDO VALVERDE
Rajesh Kumar Maini
