Taken at JinGwanSa temple. In Buddhist iconography the lotus occupies a significant place as a symbol of purity, as it grows out of the murky dark waters of a pond or lake and opens clean and unsullied. But when a lotus blossom is claimed by a big black beetle as its own territory, what does it mean? Is it a reminder that, after all, all things in samsara are imperfect, and one should not be overly attached to anything -- not even lotuses? Or does it serve to elevate the pristine beauty of the flower even more by contrasting it with the unexpected presence of a lowly bug?
Or perhaps it's an admonition that enlightenment is available to all living beings regardless of their station in life; noble or humble, it does not matter in the end, and that to react with shock or repellence is to prove the inadequacy of one's own faith.
[And I freely admit to my own inadequacy in this department. Cockroaches, for example. Especially the really big giant ones in warm climates. I remember the shock and repellence I experienced when one morning soon after I moved into my old live-in studio in south central L.A., when I woke up and discovered a huge dead roach at the foot of my bed. Yeah, what can you do... what you feel is what you feel.]
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