What do you do when your best friend has gone for a Vipassana meditation course?
I think of her, sitting on the blue square cushion. Eyes closed, a slight frown between her brows, floating in self awareness. How beautiful.
I know Buddha did not approve of murti pooja. So forgive me, sir, if I fall into those who keep your statue in their homes, though they do not sit thus. After all, among all the statues ever made, Yours is the most popular.
I can only wonder at the aura-scope, the star power, of the man who looked so charming while he sat in meditation, that, thousands of years later, no sculptor worth his salt dies before sculpting the Buddha.
I also wonder, in those rare, foolish moments, if it will ever be possible, to maybe remember a past life, of a leaf, a caterpillar, a grasshopper, that saw the Living Sample before he became more of a statue.
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