Fire-eater
fire-eater@riseup.net is a recovering writer/student/activist living in Portland, OR.
He can be found on his day off muttering to his ducks anti-civilizational Blake and Milton passages in his garden and greenhouse.
Toward the end of his life, the Buddha wordlessly gathered his disciples at a quiet pond, heavily shaded by a banyan grove for instruction. The Buddha’s followers let their eyes adjust, and as they had done so many times before, sat in a small circle around him, and patiently waited for the teaching.
But the Bodhisattva had no words left for them. Eyes closed, he slowly, silently, dipped his sun-spotted hand into the algae, and enticed a lotus flower from the muck. He raised it in his open palm and opening his eyes, he held it silently before them, its roots dripping mud and murk.
The adherents were uncomfortable and confused. The Buddha deliberately displayed the lotus to each of them. In turn, the followers did their best to guess upon the meaning of the perceived parable of the floret: what it embodied, and how it worked into the body of the Buddha’s imparted instruction.
When at last the Buddha came to his follower Mahakasyapa, the pupil understood. Smiling, he began to laugh. The Buddha placed the lotus into Mahakasyapa’s open palm and began to speak.
“What can be said I have said to you,” smiled the Buddha, “and what cannot ever be said, I have given to Mahakashyapa, who shall in turn give it to you.”
The Flower Sermon, retold by Wm. Daniel Showalter
