The Buddha statue as it now sits in my son Paul’s room.
The lonely plant still reaching for the absent Buddha statue
My son Paul is a sophomore and begins his mid-year finals next week. He also has a five-game hockey tournament this weekend and he needs to do well on his exams to offset some slippage that happened during the first semester. Thus, time is short and the pressure is high. Last night, as he took a short break from studying, he started dribbling his soccer ball up and down the hardwood floors in our hallway. He often does this when is processing – he thinks with his body.
As he passed the open doorway of my yoga room, he gazed upon a wooden statue of a Buddha that sits in the far corner. This piece has a long history. His mother Jen and I bought it before Paul was born and while we were trying to get pregnant. I am not a Buddhist and the statue functions aesthetically in my household. It has sat in the corner of my bedroom both before and after Jen and I divorced. It sat there while Jen breast-fed Paul in the middle of the night. It sat there as my bedroom room became my own in 2010. A few months ago, I moved my yoga room from upstairs to downstairs. I also moved the wooden Buddha in there and it has been watching me slowly recover my yoga practice since a serious shoulder injury 3 years ago. These last few weeks, my practice is truly on an upsurge.
Paul passes the doorway and says, “Dang, that Buddha statue is cool.” He slowly makes it back to his books and announces that he is beat and heading to bed. On his way up the stairs, he says, “I would like a Buddha statue in my room sometime.”
Surprised, I pause as I contemplate my next sentence, “You can take the statue up to your room.”
Paul turns his head with tired excitement, “Really? I’ll get it tomorrow.” A few minutes later, I hear Paul’s voice from my yoga room, “Dad, you gotta come here and see this!” Upon entering the room, Paul says, “Have you ever noticed what the plant is doing?” I shake my head.
I have a type of jasmine plant sitting about two feet from the Buddha statue. It mostly has leaves, a couple of small white flowers, but also some branches that shoot out runners that look like vines. One of these runners has reached midair across the distance, laid itself over the Buddha’s shoulder, curled around the back of the statue’s neck, and sprouted up the back of the Buddha’s head. In no uncertain terms, the plant looks to be hugging the Buddha statue and growing straight up toward the sky.
Paul and I sit in awed silence, smiling and shaking our heads. After quite a pause, Paul says, “You know there’s a scientific explanation for that. The plant is growing toward the light of the window.”
I nod my head quietly in agreement but then add, “But is that all it looks like to you?” Paul looks down and shakes his head in wonder. “Me either,” I say. I continue on the Paul, “This is one of those moments where you get to choose what you see. We are sitting in the presence of something miraculous, regardless of the cause. Moments like these either enrich our lives or they pass us by. We get to chose.” After some further discussion, Paul and I decide that the specific cause of what happened is not important. It’s the ‘happening’ that matters most. And the ‘happening’ of the plant and the Buddha statue makes both of us feel awake in our chests. Regardless of how he does on his exams, Paul is learning what he needs to know about life.
Sooner than I was ready for, Paul disengages the plant from its embrace with the Buddha statue. It makes sense, as he is only fifteen…he has things to do. He lifts the statue up and carries it upstairs. I got up this morning and practiced yoga – me, the plant, and the absent Buddha statue. I felt a little lonely but couldn’t help smiling…the wonder has made it to the next room.