January 20: Winter Zen

Buddha of the porch

remains serene

with a lap full of snow.

August 31: Chipmunk

Sunflower seed husks

scattered at Buddha's feet--

chipmunk's offering.

Posted with Blogsy

March 7: Everything's connected

On the kitchen shelf

wooden bird, little Buddha

linked by a cobweb

Posted with Blogsy

December 31: New Year's Eve

Pondering impermanence--

glass of fine bourbon

with Buddha ice cubes.

Posted with Blogsy

November 10: And he's smiling about it

Up to his neck in leaves

Buddha of the garden

waits for snowfall.

Posted with Blogsy

April 9: Why am I still writing about snow?

Buddha's lap damp with snow.
Monochrome lawn--
no enlightenment here.

October 12: Autumn Zen

Fall leaves prayer flags.

On the front porch Buddha

contemplates a pumpkin.

February 12: Moon rise

Buddha, wrapped in snow
blanket, watches the moon rise
over Mount Battie.

September 12: Houseful of Buddhas

While I am not a practicing Buddhist, I have strategically place around our house several small statues of Buddha and various bodhisattvas. One in particular, a Thai Buddha, bears a facial expression of such serene calm that I often find my eyes drawn to it in times of stress or anxiety, for its soothing influence. Others are fat and laughing, the kind one finds in Asian import shops everywhere. Those make me smile. Each one has its own mood, its own meaning for me. I'm drawn to the Buddhist emphasis on the ephemerality of life, which urges one to value the present moment and not get too attached to the world. While I haven't achieved a Buddhist detachment from the material world by any means, the core of my spiritual beliefs is to be mindful of Now. My buddhas remind me of this.

Haiku has a direct connection to Zen Buddhism, which is one of the things that sustains my interest in the form. On a site called "In the Moonlight a Worm...," sponsored by the Arts Council of England, I found this perfect explanation of the relationship:

"In Zen Buddhism there is a great enlightenment called satori, sought through many years of disciplined meditation. There are also many little flashes of enlightenment, called kensho, which are intense forms of those everyday noticings that surprise us or please us because they seem to reveal a truth, or to be exemplary, or to connect us again, momentarily, with the sense of awe. Haiku is a momentary, condensed poetic form and its special quality is that it is perfectly adapted to give the reader that little instant of kensho insight. Basho developed the haiku form so that each haiku became a little burst of awakening. It is this that is the essence of haiku, not its number of syllables."

I can't express it any better than that.

Visitors ask me,
Why so many Buddhas here?
Because life is brief...

September 13: Buddhist Chipmunk

My mother mentioned that a chipmunk liked to perch atop one of the stone statues of Buddha in her lawn. This was funny enough to imagine, but when we pulled into the driveway to drop her off, sure enough, there it was: a chipmunk on Buddha's head. Pesky as they are, chipmunks are endearing little rodents. This particular chipmunk was clearly familiar with my mother's ways, as it didn't budge from Buddha's head when she approached. Buddha's serene expression also remained unmoved. One might wonder if it's a spiritual chipmunk, at one everything, startled by nothing. Or perhaps the height of the statue makes for a good vantage point. Do chipmunks like a view? Curled atop Buddha, the chipmunk remained calm until we got within a couple of feet of it. Then it darted up into the rain gutter. When I tapped on the gutter, the chipmunk let forth a series of high-pitched noises that could only be considered invectives. It was clearly upset that we had interrupted its daily commune with higher powers.

On Buddha's stone head
chipmunk exudes compassion
for all seed-bearers.

February 9: Leaves in Buddha's Lap

As I left work tonight, enough of a glow remained in the sky that I didn't need a flashlight to find my car. Yet it was dark enough that I could clearly see the two brightest heavenly bodies in the sky--Mars and Sirius--bracketing Mount Battie. (The waning moon had not yet risen.) They were my celestial escorts as I headed into town on my way to the Y. When I got there, I realized I'd forgotten to bring my running stuff. I took that as a sign that I wasn't meant to run tonight and turned around to head home for an unexpectedly free hour. Back between the Red Planet and the Dog Star I went, my mind still churning on work.

As I walked up the front step of my home, a nearby streetlight illuminated the statue of Buddha in my flower bed. He's been buried under snow most of the winter. While the mid-Atlantic states have been getting dumped on the past week or so, our snow has been disappearing, sublimating into the sublime blue skies of these sunny days. So there was Buddha, half-heaped in snowy dead leaves. I thought about clearing away the detritus but decided to let it be. His mildly amused expression caught by the light, Buddha looked completely at peace sitting there with that lapful of dead leaves and ice.

Leaving Buddha, the war god, and the twinkling dog star behind me, I unlocked my front door and suddenly felt a complete sense of calm. Some things ease our minds by drawing us outside ourselves--calling our attention to the infinite reaches of the night sky, for example. Others help us empty the mind and think less: be here now; shut down busy thoughts by briefly meditating on an object of beauty. And then open the door and cross the threshold into the next moment.

Leaves in Buddha's lap--
dry offerings of winter.
Remember: life's short.