60 Seconds for Wednesdays on Whidbey: Shoveling Snow with Buddha at Year’s End & Beginning

Hello to you, Marilyn, listening in Hancock, New Hampshire!Coming to you from Whidbey Island, Washington, this is Stories From Women Who Walk with 60 Seconds (and a bit more) for Wednesdays on Whidbey—this final day of the old year—and your host, Diane Wyzga.      Shoveling Snow With Buddha by Billy Collins"In the usual iconography of the temple or the local Wokyou would never see him doing such a thing,tossing the dry snow over the mountainof his bare, round shoulder,his hair tied in a knot,a model of concentration. Sitting is more his speed, if that is the wordfor what he does, or does not do. Even the season is wrong for him.In all his manifestations, is it not warm and slightly humid?Is this not implied by his serene expression,that smile so wide it wraps itself around the waist of the universe? But here we are, working our way down the driveway,one shovelful at a time.We toss the light powder into the clear air.We feel the cold mist on our faces.And with every heave we disappearand become lost to each otherin these sudden clouds of our own making,these fountain-bursts of snow. This is so much better than a sermon in church,I say out loud, but Buddha keeps on shoveling.This is the true religion, the religion of snow,and sunlight and winter geese barking in the sky,I say, but he is too busy to hear me. He has thrown himself into shoveling snowas if it were the purpose of existence,as if the sign of a perfect life were a clear drivewayone you could back the car down easilyand drive off into the vanities of the worldwith a broken heater fan and a song on the radio. All morning long we work side by side,me with my commentaryand he inside the generous pocket of his silence,until the hour is nearly noonand the snow is piled high all around us;then, I hear him speak. After this, he asks,can we go inside and play cards? Certainly, I reply, and I will heat some milkand bring cups of hot chocolate to the tablewhile you shuffle the deck,and our boots stand dripping by the door. Aaah, says the Buddha, lifting his eyesand leaning for a moment on his shovelbefore he drives the thin blade againdeep into the glittering white snow."My New Year wish for you: As the old year folds onto itself and the new year dawns I wish for you that your everyday activities, even the very simple tasks, bring humor, contemplation, and a sense of magic in the ordinary. May you find your way on the path following a compass heading of True North. May the love you seek wend its way to you. May you dream well, journey far, and be sustained in hope that what you’re looking for is looking for you.You're always welcome: "Come for the stories - Stay for the magic!" Speaking of magic, I hope you’ll subscribe, share a 5-star rating and nice review on your social media or podcast channel of choice, bring your friends and rellies, and join us! You will have wonderful company as we continue to walk our lives together. Be sure to stop by my Quarter Moon Story Arts website, check out the Communication Services, arrange a no-obligation Discovery Call, and stay current with me as "Wyzga on Words" on Substack.Stories From Women Who Walk Production TeamPodcaster: Diane F Wyzga & Quarter Moon Story ArtsMusic: Mer’s Waltz from Crossing the Waters by Steve Schuch & Night Heron MusicALL content and image © 2019 to Present Quarter Moon Story Arts. All rights reserved.  If you found this podcast episode helpful, please consider sharing and attributing it to Diane Wyzga of Stories From Women Who Walk podcast with a link back to the original source.