Reading about the Buddha, I often feel sorry for him. There are throngs of monks around him all the time. On occasion, there are thousands of them. And he addresses them time and again. I can imagine that he would have enjoyed some peace and quiet every once in a while. In a sense, he was a victim of his own success. The more famous he became for his teaching, the greater the throngs that pressed around him. In the end, he had not a moment left for himself. Whence my growing sorrow whenever I read about his teaching. “Monks,” I can imagine him starting one day at dawn. “Yes, sir,” their sleepy response keeps resonating far and wide. Out of the blue, he raises his voice to a loud shout: “Buzz off the lot of you!” Oh, I can imagine the giggles! But the Blessed One did not have the heart for such an understandable outburst.