I love the way that this Buddha is becoming a part of everything. Lichens nesting on his shoulders, in his hair, grasses tickling his back, the weight of him settling into the bricks, little bits of detritus and moss and a heart stone from Lucy Vincent Beach in his lap. It reminds me of the story of the Skin Horse from The Velveteen Rabbit.
“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but really loves you, then you become Real.”
“Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit.
“Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real, you don’t mind being hurt.”
“Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,” he asked, “or bit by bit?”
“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out, and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real, you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”
I feel like becoming real requires Buddha sitting – becoming a part of everything. Less doing, more being. Letting the body listen through pores, cells, breath.
Diving is a way to clear the mental decks. So is jumping. Any movement that gathers all of you up and demands that you be and do just that one thing in that moment. I think that is why I love dressage. Doing a specific movement with a horse that demands consummate organization and clarity of intention from both of you doesn’t leave any room for mind-clatter. You have to be all there, all in.
