The Green Buddha
It occurred to me during meditation this morning, that I have been interested in the Buddha figurine since I was a young child. I adored this green Buddha that my grandmother purchased from my step-father's store ever since I can remember. Was I eight years old? Ten? Or younger?
It was made in Czechoslovakia out of an expensive, heavy, green glass-type material. Today it is probably 50 or more years old. I had already emigrated from Africa to Israel when my grandmother died, and my aunt sent it over for me because my grandmother remembered how I had loved it.
Since then, I have always collected Buddha statues, but I have never known why I am attracted to them. Recently, I decided to stop collecting them – again – for no reason that I can think of.
And then, suddenly, this morning, during breathing meditation, I remembered my green Buddha. I saw it in my mind as clear as the new day out there. Anxious to look at it more closely, I ran up to my study and took this photograph.
I wonder why I loved it when I was a child. I realize that my grandmother remembered me even after so many years we were apart, and that my aunt took the trouble to send it to me. I start to understand (perhaps for the first time) that it is one of my most cherished possessions.
I place it alone, in full view, apart from all the other Buddha figurines I have collected these past thirty years or so – right by the blooming geranium plant a colleague gave me recently to celebrate the publication of my new book.
A year ago at Mining Nuggets: A parting gift