The Day That I Met Buddha
Today, I am delighted to let you know, I am offering a gift for paid subscribers (currently $50 annually or $6 monthly): The e-book of my first published book, Crossing Thresholds, Island Reflections. More details for this offer at the end of today’s post.
Pungent, powerful, and enervating, the scent of the pines hit us suddenly as we rounded a curve into the national forest, on our way to Yosemite Valley. It was October 6 of this year. Three hours later, I met Buddha.
Have Patience, and the story will be revealed.
As Lao Tzu says, “Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.’
We were totally unprepared for the hour-long line of cars, slowly – ever so slowly—creeping their way to the Entry Gate to Yosemite National Park.
After all, it was “supposed to be” the beginning of the quiet season in the Valley, the beginning of fall, and the beginning of cooler weather.
The truth is, we didn’t care that the line was a mile long and moving slowly. We relished the opportunity to open the windows and deeply breathe in the soothing, awakening smell of the pines. There is nothing like the smell of pines. The hot air contributed to the pungency.
The forest floor provided a rich palette of yellows, oranges, light greens, and deep greens. Nature, in her artistry, was treating us to a rich experience of wonder, of awe.
If we hadn’t been present, we would have missed it.
Being Present to what is is Powerful, healing, and joyful.
Our ride to the entrance into Yosemite reminded me of Tom’s story. Tom participated in a particular retreat I led on Simplicity, Patience, and Compassion two years ago. The retreat conversation was based on a three-part inquiry into Lao Tzu’s famous quote:
“Simplicity, patience, compassion.
These three are your greatest treasures.
Simple in actions and thoughts, you return to the source of being.
Patient with both friends and enemies,
you accord with the way things are.
Compassionate toward yourself,
you reconcile all beings in the world.”
― Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching
During our deep dive into the theme of Patience, Tom shared that he had scheduled a vacation with his family to go to Zion National Park. Here, too, on the way into the Park, the entrance to the Park line was long, very long. The cars were barely moving. Tom shared with us how totally gripped by his ever-chattering brain he was.
The Buddhists call it “monkey mind.” We all have a monkey mind. Taming the monkey mind is the practice. Having patience with ourself along the way is the trick.
“Why can’t they just hurry up?” “This is ruining my vacation!” “I just want to get there and see things!”
Tom, laughing, shared with us he was totally resistant to the way it was.
Of course, being totally resistant to the way it is is a sure recipe for suffering.
His kids were having a ball. “Dad, look up at the cliff! Isn’t it beautiful? Look at the colors – yellow and orange and red—have you ever seen anything so great?”
His kids were having a great time, as I said. Tom was miserable.
In sharing with us this story, we all had a good laugh, Tom being the first to be “telling one on himself.”
I remembered that story well when we saw that we would be in line for a while, though we didn’t know how long. In retrospect, I truly had been very contributed to by Tom and his story and the work Tom did that day, including the very real, very visceral insight about how to ruin a moment. In fact, I’ll never forget it.
The Irish have a saying: “Your story is my story is everybody’s story.”
We did not get impatient in that long line of cars. Each time one of those monkey mind thoughts entered my brain (i.e. “When is this traffic finally going to get moving?”), I caught it quickly and laughed.
I shared Tom’s story with Don as we sat in that line of cars, slowly moving towards the Park Entrance. After about 45 minutes, creeping like a worm, a sign at the side of the road said, “You are now ½ hour from the Park Entrance.” We had another good laugh.
Stories are a good entrance into insight and action for me. They stick in a way preaching, instructing, directing, informing, lecturing, don’t.
I Meet Buddah
Fifteen minutes after passing the Entrance Gate, we came to Wawona, an old, historic hotel built in 1876, where we stopped and walked around, admiring the old paintings, the furnishings, the original walls
It was hot outside and getting hotter—92 degrees, in fact. The park rangers we met inside the Thomas Hill studio said they were as surprised as we were. I had packed for cool weather—not one pair of shorts or cool blouse—just warm stuff. We asked where we could find shorts. They didn’t know but thought that the golf course shop probably sold them.
So we walked across the lawn to the golf course shop.
I walked into the Golf shop. That’s when I met Buddha.
“No, no shorts here,” the man behind the counter said. He was friendly, and he looked a lot like the images I had seen of Buddha. We started talking about the heat. Then, I noticed, he had a name tag on. On his nametag was the word, “Buddah” – that is how it was spelled -- a nickname, he said, that his friends called him, because he looked like Buddha. He also had a Buddha-like Presence.
What do I mean by that? There was an aura of calm around him, of tenderness, a kindness, a compassion, a welcoming presence.
And there was a story behind that, too.
Buddah had served in Desert Storm. When he got home, he kept having powerful nightmares that kept waking him up at night. Images of the war invading his space were non-stop and unavoidable.
Desiring peace more than anything in the world, he entered a Buddhist monastery for six months. He meditated. He sat with the monks. He read the Sutras. And he emerged, six months later, at peace, he said.
Cultivating, creating, and sustaining the capacity to be present, to be here now, worked.
Here is a photo of Buddah. On our way out of the park on the way to the Mariposa Grove of Giant Sequoias, we stopped to see Buddha again and got his permission to publish his story and his photo on my Substack. He gave it to me easily, happy that I was going to tell his story.
Don’t you get a sense of Buddha from Buddah?
On the way into the valley is a tunnel. Join me as we emerge from the tunnel, and, letting the people be, see Yosemite: magnificent, wondrous, inspiring Yosemite:
And, for the next three days, in a time of no time, we were gifted with being in the work of art that is Yosemite, that glacially carved valley, home of John Muir, who walked amidst its wonders year after year, allowing himself to be awe-inspired.
Our Spirits were infused with her glory and her peace.
Dreams of the spirit of granite holding me each night, enspirited by the energy of trees and granite in the day, writing in the morning, and walks in the woods…what a prescription for healing, for inspiration, for being at one with all that is.
The morning we left the valley, El Capitan, one of the most iconic rock formations in the world, with more than 3000 feet vertical feet of sheer granite, bid us farewell until our next pilgrimage.
On our way back to the airport in Fresno, we gifted ourselves with a two hour stop in the Mariposa Grove of the Giant Sequoias
“Humblifying,” Don said, more than once, as we were welcomed in Silence by ancient family of trees.
"Humblifying."
Walking to the “Grizzly Giant,” she is called, our minds came to a full stop.
“Humblifying,” Don said, as we “be’ed with the trees.
The Grizzly Giant is 2500 years old. She is the oldest living Being on the planet
As you watch this video, you can hear the many voices speaking different languages as we participate with people from all over the world, come to pay their respects, and receive the blessings, from these ancient ones.
May the spirit of the trees infuse you, as well.
Presence heals.
I invite you: to create an intention today to take a full stop somewhere in your day (or now) and come to be Present to Now, both your internal now and the external now.
Fully embrace, and fully accept someone or something in your environment.
Once you are fully present, enter into the next part of your day.
Yosemite Morning by the Merced River
The water is low this year, still covering, in its green, transparent stillness, the brown rocks of the Merced. The sun rises behind Half Done, Shadowing the place where pen and paper meet. The air is chill, in the early morning calm. Blue Jay echoes in the distance, calls drifting from tree to tree. The rippling music of the sunlit river calls me to attention.
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I am happy to let you know, as a free gift, if you become a paid subscriber for $50 annually or $6 monthly, I am delighted to send you the e book of my first published book, Crossing Thresholds, Island Reflections, a Gold Global award winner for nature poetry, and #1 Amazon best seller for nature poetry.
This is a book of photographs, poems, and pragmatic inquiries for your inner journey of embracing endings, and starting new beginnings. the poems were all written in 2019 at another national park, Isle Royale, in Lake Superior.
The primary themes of the book are tapping into your own inner wisdom, releasing your Muse, embracing the impermanent nature of relaity, giving endings where those endings are now due, moving through loss and heartbreak, starting new beginnings, letting nature be our teacher, embracing the unfamiliar, living in wonder and awe.
Love it! Thank you so much, Rick. I was concerned I had had "too many" stories in that one post; however, the common theme of patience, acceptance, the prayerful effects of nature, and our Buddah's story all seemed to integrate together. I appreciate your comment very much.
"Stories are a good entrance into insight and action for me. They stick in a way preaching, instructing, directing, informing, lecturing, don’t." Amen, and thanks for the story Amba. I especially like the Buddah's contemplative healing story, facing the real storm inside.