Be the Buddha

See this little guy?


He travels around with us in the Westy. My sister Jacquie gave him to me – gave him to all my sisters, and Mom and Dad, and me – after one visit that was marked by a few tense moments – mostly caused, natch, by me.

She exhorted us to Be the Buddha.

To let our troubles slide off like so much water off a duck’s back.

To put our worries in a bubble and blow the bubble away.

She’s very Zen like that, you know.

So I try. I try to Be the Buddha.

Sometimes, though, it’s hard.

See this crane?

(Or wait, maybe it’s this one:)

These cranes live across the Thames River from us, on the Groton side. Some nights one of them works into the wee hours, being the hard-working, productive crane it is. And when it works, it beeps. BEEP-beep, BEEP-beep. Its beeping keeps us up. We lie awake, perversely waiting for the next BEEP-beep, losing sleep and going stark raving mad in the process.

Be the Buddha.

I ride my bike to work -- and to the grocery store and to the beach -- and apparently I wear a superhero-like Cloak Of Invisibility while I’m riding. I almost get killed about 8 times a day, by drivers who don’t see me because I’m on a bicycle.

Be the Buddha.

We bought a new house built in 1915. Naturally, it’s got some issues.

The birds love to bathe in the gutters that stay full of water days after it rains.

The downstairs has got 3 new, beautiful ceiling fans that circulate the cool air. The upstairs? To where the heat rises? And where we sleep? Fans? No fans.

Be the Buddha.

The oil tank? I think even the Buddha would have a hard time trying to Be the Buddha, dealing with the oil tank.

All this thinking about, and trying to Be the Buddha has gotten me thinking about ol’ Buddha himself.

Being the Buddha is a lot of responsibility for one smiling portly guy to carry.

While people all over the world are trying to Be, well, to Be Him, he sits there, with a smile on his face, never complaining, never making a peep.

You know how when you laugh so hard your face hurts and you have to stretch it to make it feel better? The Buddha just keeps on smiling . . .

And how about those legs? Don’t you think that after all those years The Buddha may have some circulation problems?

Don’t you think the guy would, every once in a while, just want to stand up and s- t- r- e- t-c-h?

Wait a minute . . .

Hold on . . .

Aaahhhhhhhhhh. Now that’s more like it…..