Dearly Beloved, Grace and Peace to you.
Buddha sits in the garden by the corner of the garage and smiles. Doesn't he get cold, sitting there in his flimsy robe, frost on the domes of his shoulders?
He doesn't seem to. Snow settles in the folds of his robe along his contented belly and he just smiles. Ice drips on his foot from the eaves and he doesn't even move it. He just smiles. Wouldn't you like to be so serene and contented, so attentive without distraction, so impervious to attitudes and free of demands?
Yeah, well, he's made of cement. Doesn't that make it easier?
Why should it, since you yourself are made of light?
Deep Blessings, Pastor Steve
_______________________________ Copyright © 2010 Steve Garnaas-Holmes unfoldinglight(at)hotmail.com