By my desk, throughout the seasons a window frames my garden Buddha.While I admire Buddhist teachings, I am not a practicing Buddhist.
My upbringing did not include religious training. From my parents I passed on to my children a laissez-faire attitude toward religion and its institutions. But I was startled some time ago when I was summarily told, "Well, you are not a spiritual person!". Had the tenor of that particular remark invited a response, I would have begged to differ, "Working in my garden is what nourishes my spirit".
In winter, Buddha sits wrapped in his snow coat and white hat, a reminder that the barren garden is only dormant, pregnant with promises.
Come spring, life emerges all around him,
and in the high season he is "a green thought in a green shade".
This is paradise enough for me.