Hide and Seek

Autumn leaves these days drop into the Temple pond. The skimmer catches them, but then catches too many and clogs. The circulation pump strains. Where is the pond monk who should be watching carefully and cleaning regularly?

I am the pond monk. Sometimes I’d rather be the pond. Sometimes I’d rather be the pond monk playing hooky.

I know the Abbot thinks I’m lazy, but what did those people ever know about me? Or about the pond? Once in a while is fine. Every day is boring. Too much to have to think about. And why should it be my job? Why am I the one who always has to take care of things? I’m going beyond hooky. I’m going on strike.

I’m striking for fewer hours, higher wages and early retirement. I want to work only on odd Wednesdays and days when the number of the day adds up to seven. Today is Tuesday and only sixth so I’m free to ignore the slight sound of the straining pump I hear coming in from the dark window. I’m sure it’s something else.

Today I’ll disappear into the woods. I’ll play hide and seek with my self. First I’ll hide, then I’ll see if I can find where I am. At first I’ll walk around confidently pretending to know. When that becomes obviously untrue, I’ll start calling my name. Playfully, then with more urgency. Finally I’ll plaintively entreat myself to come out. Please come out. I can’t find you anywhere and I’m getting worried about all of us.

I’ll hear the fear in the voice of the one who is seeking and I’ll say, Do you give up? Do you really give up? Then I’ll know where I am by the sound of my voice and I’ll find me immediately. Right where I was all along—in plain sight but too close to see. In that moment of finding we’ll find everything else too. All the animals and insects, The trees and mushrooms. The stones and lichen. The sky, earth and water. The wind. We’ll all be found together.

In our delight, we’ll laugh and laugh. We’ll laugh so hard our laughing will turn to crying. Then the crying will become a wild wailing. What a howl it will be! The whole world will cry out with us. All the pain and confusion will funnel through us and release itself into the night sky. A new twinkling star of pure energy will be born. Astronomers from around the world will be astonished.

Then I’ll wander home as if nothing has been disturbed. In the sweet quiet of the early morning I’ll take a flashlight out into the darkness. I’ll walk down to the pond and see for myself. Even if it’s not absolutely necessary, I’ll clean out the skimmer like I should have been doing all along. Then I’ll have a cup of coffee before giving a morning Dharma talk on The Harmony of Relative and Absolute.