Ben sez Oh

One early morning the priest sat down to practice meditation. He had, however, a deep emotional outburst. And in a flash, he realizes something that has been gnawing at him for sometime. He lit a stick on incense and prays:

Dear Avalokiteshvara, I am well into middle age now, and over the years I have seen my friends grow older with me. I have seen them get married, have families and raise children. They seem so very happy when I see them go through the town with their beautiful children with them.

I do not regret the path I have taken at all, I love the Dharma and my practice. But, something inside me says that I would have made a wonderful father, I wonder what it would have been like.

Just then there was a knock at the temple door. An older couple had a baby in their arms, and they claimed the priest was the father and that hr must take care of the child. The priest just said, “Is that so”.

He was delighted at his fortune. And for two years he cleaned and changed diapers, chased after the little one, begged for nurse milk with the baby in tow. His joy turned to exhaustion on many a late night, and his mediation practice became lost amongst children’s games, tears and laughter.

Then early one morning, when the baby was unusually quiet, he thought about practicing meditation, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had done so. He sat down and began. When suddenly he had an emotional outburst. He got up and lit some incense and prayed.

Dear Avalokiteshvara I realize now how foolish I have been. While I love this child, I know now that my heart truly rests with the Dharma, oh how I miss my daily practice.

Just then there was a knock at the temple door. It was the older couple again. They demanded to have their baby returned to them. The priest just said, “Is that so”, and with one last hug gave them the baby.