Hidden Histories

Breathe in. Breathe out.

I’m hiding behind the Buddha this morning. Literally. Really literally.

My usual perch on the porch has been usurped by the process of painting. First was the scrub and power-wash—thank you Ray. Then last week was the laborious scraping and prepping—thank you Doug on hands and knees. Yesterday was the full coat of primer to take advantage of all the previous work—again, thank you Doug. And later on today, Doug will come back for the smooth work of applying the final coat. This final coat of gray, this most visible record of activity, will take the least amount of time in the whole process.

I suppose this layering of invisible efforts and causes is true everywhere we look. We often see only the most proximal causes while most of what led to some thing appearing before us is invisible. Putting the seeds or plants in the garden is usually fairly quick and easy—it’s everything that comes before and after that takes the work.

This morning I’m sitting on the access ramp in a jumble of chairs and low tables—behind the weeping cherry tree that was rescued from the bramble when we moved in and behind the two ton Buddha around whom the access ramp wraps. All three of these—the cherry tree, the Buddha statue and the access ramp have their hidden histories.

Every thing appears and disappears as the result of innumerable causes and conditions.

The cherry tree must have been part of the huge landscaping project in the 80’s when these grounds were the site of the Jewish Elder Services Center. The individuals who worked here, who came to be cared for and who supported the campaign to install a lovely curving brick walkway leading to a gazebo among the trees, they are all long gone. Not to mention the people who imagined and carefully tended this tree when it was just a slender sapling.

The Buddha statue was hauled here on a trailer truck and swung into place with a boom crane while a number of us chanted and marveled. Originally quarried and carved in China, the statue was mistakenly ordered by a local salon owner and only came to us through a chance conversation with the enthusiastic of the owner of the construction company that was digging up our parking lot.

The access ramp was built by a host of volunteers. But the man who designed and did most of work was available and interested in helping only because of terrible circumstances in his personal life. When the ramp was almost completed, his story became public. It was serious and we tried to talk to him about it, but he wasn’t willing to talk and disappeared shortly after he completed the ramp. I am grateful to him this morning for his skills and hard work even though I have not seen him in over a decade.

And so it goes. What we encounter comes to us through the efforts of countless others. Everything we encounter has a history beyond telling. It is appropriate to be grateful for all the circumstances that brought this moment into being. The terrible and the wonderful things are finely woven together into this. Every thing is the product of and depends on everything else. Nothing is extra.

I hide behind the Buddha. Glad for the twining clematis tendrils by my elbow and the brilliant petunias by my nose. Glad for the sound of the cars rushing by on their essential Pleasant Street journeys. And glad for one more morning.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Personal Pratice – Look around you and pick one or two objects that catch your attention. Now take a few moments to appreciate the hidden histories of each one. How did this thing come into your life? And before that, how did it come into being? Imagine the path it took toward you and all the individuals, just like you, who were a part of that path. Appreciate the interconnection of it all. Be grateful to everything that brought this into being.