In my mind’s eye, the Buddha beneath the Manitoba maple in my backyard watches the purple trilliums.
He’s contemplating their beauty.
He’s waited so long, patiently meditating.
He watched the tips of their shoots emerge early this spring, then watched their leaves unfold.
Now he watches them in full bloom, and he will watch as the flowers fade, then fall.
He will watch the season turn and the next, and then see the leaves and stems wither and rot.
He will watch through the winter, patiently meditating, and then watch it all again.
This is the myth of the Buddha among the trilliums.
The truth is, the Buddha is blind. His eyes are closed, and besides he’s made of stone.
So who watches, meditates and sees the circle complete itself time and again?
Where is this backyard, where are these trilliums, where is this Buddha with his patient gaze?
There is a Buddha among the trilliums in my backyard, meditating beneath the Manitoba maple tree…
In my mind’s eye.