Knowing What you Don't Know

The Dishwasher, the Fitter and Asking for Help

The first photo I saw of an English Buddhist monk was of a Zen monk from Throssel Hole Monastery using a drill for some repair job at the temple.

When I was a Buddhist monk, the importance of being able to do that kind of work was impressed onto me.

The night before my ordination ceremony, head freshly shaved.

I repaired the broken Yale lock of the centre’s front door. I wired in a telephone extension line. I fitted a carpet in the dining room. The first two of those jobs were later re-done by people who knew what they were doing. The carpet in the dining room was a good enough fit, if you didn’t have high standards.

I can enjoy this kind of work, for all that I often don’t know what I’m doing. I’m happy putting up a shelf, or a curtain pole, or following flat-pack furniture instructions with my electric screwdriver (despite the instructions’ clear warnings not to use an electric screwdriver).

Within a couple of weeks of moving into our new place the door handle came off the fitted dishwasher. The handle didn’t fit the bolt, and had been glued on by the previous owners. It didn’t match any of the other cupboard knobs in the kitchen. I glued it back on. It lasted a week.

I measured the bolt and ordered a new 3D printed door knob. It didn’t fit.

I knew in theory it was possible to separate the cupboard door (is that what it’s called? The door that matches the fitted kitchen) from the dishwasher part of the door. There are lots of videos on YouTube that make it look very easy.

I had a feeling it wouldn’t be so easy. I have started many projects that were supposed to be easy, and turned out not to be.

We learnt to open the dishwasher without the knob.

Last week the dishwasher broke completely. It was very old.

When the new one arrived, the fitter asked if we had any spare knobs. We had a whole drawer full. I didn’t expect them to fit, they had very long bolts on the back and surely if they did fit the previous owners would have used one of these rather than an odd one?

I said if the fitter was happy to show me how to take the door apart I could fit it myself later. He said it would only take him a few minutes.

He said that I probably could do it, but it would take a lot longer, because he knew all the tricks.

He used to be a self-employed plumber and gas engineer. He knew all the tricks there as well, he said, from having made mistakes over the years and learnt from them. He used to have a customer who liked to try and fix things themselves. It’s okay with water he said, the worst that can happen is you flood the kitchen. With gas you might blow up the whole house, and the neighbours’ house as well.

He fitted the new knob in a few seconds. It fitted perfectly. We now have a new dishwasher with a door that’s easy to open, with a knob that matches the rest of the kitchen.

I’m an expert in healing trauma, in changing habit patterns and letting go of beliefs. I’m an expert in the practice of Pure Land Buddhism and supporting people in their spiritual lives.

I enjoyed chatting to the fitter, but I wouldn’t expect him to help me with my mental health issues. If I don’t expect he should do my job, why should I expect myself to be able to do his?

Occasionally that voice does still crop up, the one that says I should be able to fix everything myself. I try to remind it that we know that’s not true, and that it’s okay to ask for help. It’s a work in progress.

Does any of this sound familiar? Do you struggle on when you should ask for help? Do you think you should know things that probably are fine not to know? Let me know in the comments.