April 15, 2022
I now have the distinction of being part of a select group of people who inadvertently knocked themselves out by walking into a statue of Buddha. It’s a very select group. Okay, so technically, I didn’t lose consciousness, but it certainly altered it for me, in ways that are as indelible as they are ironic.
As I was walking (without watching where I was going) I was thinking about God - and frogs, and specifically about whether frogs have gods. There are, in fact, no gods (of any sort) in Buddhism – which is where the irony sets in. There are, though, infinite reincarnations of one’s soul - until “you get it right”.
Anne and I, over the years, have spent a lot of time and energy creating habitats of all sorts, for all kinds of wildlife, including building lots of ponds. As livestock farmers there are very practical reasons to build ponds. They sequester water in case of power outages, and droughts. Ponds also contribute to a healthy and diverse eco system, which in turn benefits our pastured animals – and brings us abundant joy.
Listening to a chorus of peepers, emanating from a pond we dug 20 years ago started me thinking. The experts tell us that the sole purpose of the peeper’s springtime singing is to find a mate, but honestly how do they really know that? I started to wonder, what if instead of soliciting mates, the frogs were singing the praises of the creators of their pond? What if part of what they were singing was actually a doxology to Anne and me?
I texted a friend; “I made a pond, frogs moved in, it’s possible I am some sort of god”
And that’s what I was thinking about when I had my headlong confrontation with Buddha, which did indeed change the trajectory of my thoughts.
I am now content, once again, with my role as “just” a temporary custodian of something much bigger than myself - and should I come back in my next life as a frog, I know just the pond I will choose to inhabit.