Delighted and Unmoved

The granite stone Buddha that was carved out of a Chinese mountain has sat for twelve years in front of the weeping cherry tree by the entrance to the Boundless Way Temple. Through snow storms and sunshine, through harmony and discord—he is unfazed and serene. The white cherry blossoms have come again this year—behind his back like an artificial Zoom background that flickers on-screen for a moment, only to disappear back to the mundane branches and leaves.

Briefly. Just a week—two at most. But reliable as a stone that falls from your hand when you unclasp your grip.

Usually, the two ton stone Buddha and his background would have had quite an appreciative audience this weekend, but our Zen retreat was on-line again so only I and a few Temple Garden visitors have witnessed the silent magic trick. An umbrella of delicate white blossoms, complete with buzzing bees, happy for the early spring nourishment. As for me, it’s nectar too, this dependably extravagant display of fragile beauty. I look long and long, trying to understand and receive the wisdom of such largess.

I saw the tight buds begin swelling slightly in the early spring. Eventually some small white came to the tip of the buds. Then the first few blossoms that could not contain themselves burst into light followed by all the others tumbling open over the next twenty-four hours. From within their tightly packed space capsules, their wondrous white petals deployed with papery finesse—showing no signs of fatigue from their long dark journey within the bud.

But the stone Buddha forever faces away. Does he miss seeing this annual ritual of brief flowering behind is back? Or does the faint smile deepen ever so slightly on his granite lips? Can he hear the buzzing of the countless bees who have been summoned? Or the softest rustling of the delicate white petals? Perhaps he just delighted by the reflected wonder in the eyes of those of us that come to pay homage the brief miracle of the weeping cherry.

But however it is viewed or not viewed, the cherry tree never holds back. She offers her full display without gauging reactions or worrying about how long the run will be. Just a week or two is a full lifetime, then petals will drop and the tree will go on with green leaves as if it had been all a dream.

While the granite Buddha sits delighted and unmoved.

(Excerpted from forthcoming book Wandering Close to Home: A Year of Zen Reflections, Consolations, and Reveries. September 1, 2024.)