A while ago, while out for my daily walk, I saw a Buddhist monk walking toward me.

It was a clear, crisp morning; an ephemeral mist hugged the earth. It was close to zero Celsius, but I was quite warm; I’d been walking at a good clip for over thirty minutes.

The monk looked cold: he was walking very slowly, meditatively.

I was dressed in jeans, t-shirt, sweatshirt, baseball cap, and sandals. The monk was dressed in robes the colour of paprika and cumin. His outer robe (I believe it’s called the sanghati) was pulled high on his body and he used part of it as a scarf, covering his chin, mouth, and ears. His legs were bare and he was carrying something in his hands; it was palm-sized, black and smooth. I wondered if it was a heated stone to keep his hands warm.

I thought about stopping and starting a conversation, but wasn’t sure it was appropriate and I decided that a visit to the Buddhist temple would be the proper etiquette. I’ll probably never go; it seems intimidating, although I’m sure I’d be welcomed.

As I approached the monk, I nodded my head and said, “Good morning.”

He smiled, pressed his palms together in front of his chest, bowed slightly, and said something back to me.

Holy beings are surrounded by a remarkable aura of peace and equanimity. I’d made only a fleeting connection with the man, but he was fully engaged for that moment. We passed each other, and for the remainder of my walk I felt lighter, my feet seemed to barely touch the earth. Something warm and beautiful stirred my soul. I couldn’t quite set it free — I think I tried too hard — but it is there, incubating, sure to find its way someday.

Since then, while on my walk, I smile, nod, and say hello to anyone I pass; usually, I get a stunning smile back. What a wonderful moment.

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.BuddhaLaughing

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