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 endeavor not be attached -- not even to lotuses? Or does it serve to elevate the pristine beauty of the flower even more by contrasting it with the unexpected presence of a humble 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 repellence is just a reflection of one's own spiritual immaturity.
[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 disgust I experienced when one morning soon after I moved into my old live-in studio in south central L.A., I woke up and discovered a huge dead roach at the foot of my bed (at least it was dead, whew..!). Yeah, what can you do... what you feel is what you feel, but what's important is what you do with your feelings -- sounds kind of Zen, doesn't it]
No comments:
Post a Comment