The Big Bright Electric-blue Plastic Basket
October 18, 2009 We had spent over a week cleaning the Pure Land College for the arrival of our Teacher, Venerable Master Chin Kung. This was not your ordinary cleaning. Everything was cleaned or organized or retouched or whatever was necessary to make it like new, but even cleaner. Buildings were swept down with brooms to remove the dust from the previous week's dust storm and the windows were washed. The gardens were weeded, the lawns mowed and edged, and the shrubbery trimmed. Plastic stools from the dining room were washed and the insulation under the metal roof over the parking lot was repaired.
Just as we all wanted, everything was perfect.
With one exception.
On the platform supporting a small water tank between our dormitory and the parking lot was a big electric-blue plastic basket. The houses, sheds, outbuilding, main buildings are beige. Everywhere you look is beige.
With that one exception.
The first time I saw the eye-catching electric-blue petrochemical marvel in front of the water tank, I moved it to behind the water tank and, thus, out of sight. Ahhh, much better.
But the next day the blue marvel was again in front of the water tank and in full view. (Possibly even from as far away as space…)
So I again moved it to behind the water tank. And again, this was much better.
Then, the next day there it was in front again. And so I moved it again. And there it stayed. Until (you guessed it) the next day.
On that day, looking at the big electric-blue plastic basket, I reached a decision.
I could live with it in front of the water tank. It really didn’t matter. Apparently it was where it was destined to be. And so, I let go. Not grudgingly. Not out of frustration. I let go because it just really wasn’t that important. And now, while I don’t walk by thinking “Wow, what a terrific big electric-blue petrochemical marvel of a basket,” I no longer feel an urge to move it either. It’s there. My mind is calm.
The basket, the basket mover, and I have learned to exist in harmony.
How?
By my not fussing with things that didn't need to be fussed over.
Reader Comments (2)
I grew up in a time when our house had to be "company ready" all the time and yet we rarely had visitors.
If I may bring up another perspective on the blue basket. When they hand make intricate Turkish rugs there is always an area or two where the design is irregular. The weavers do this because "only Allah is perfect". It is to remind us we are humble compared to God. They might say to you having this one thing "out of place" is really a reminder that all of us are human and imperfect.
Since Buddhism is not a religion but a teaching of how to awaken, Buddhists strive for perfection. Six of the practices of bodhisattvas are called the Six Paramitas or Six Perfections.
The goal of our striving is to leave our worldly (human for us this time) nature behind and to uncover our own Buddha-nature. This is the same true nature as that of all the Buddhas. Buddhas are "simply" awakened beings, they are not gods.
Having everything as clean as possible for our teacher is a sign of our deep respect for him and our attempt to express our appreciation for all his teachings and guidance. It is also a sign of respect for our environment, both in and outside the house. The act of cleaning is thus part of a Buddhist's practice. Done with the mind of giving, it is an act of a bodhisattva. (For new readers, this was explained in more detail in "Homemaker Bodhisattva" an entry posted a week or so ago on this blog.)
So, yes, we are humans and imperfect right now, but the whole point of our practice is not to excuse ourselves for being so, but rather to understand that this is not our true state and to move on as quickly as possible to become a perfectly enlightened being.