Buddha blessings

About a week ago I went in for a haircut with a new hairdresser. It had been several years since I'd had it cut professionally (I've been doing it myself) and I hadn't been allowed to cut it at ALL for several months due to the various plays I've been in.

Now that I have resigned from my current play, it seemed like a good time to get my hair back to a more flattering length, but the special cut I had done for a role back in March was growing out rather oddly so I decided to ask for help, and a dear friend recommended this man, Todd.

When I arrived at the salon, Todd walked in to greet me wearing a Little Richard wig, a flashing red nose, and an orange jumpsuit -- did I mention it was Halloween? -- and there appeared to be rather significant tattoos on whatever body surfaces were exposed.

He was definitely NOT what I had expected, and I have to admit I wondered if this was really the person my friend said he was; I confess my heart was beating a little faster, the way it does when you're not sure what you've gotten yourself into? But I sat back in my chair, reassured slightly by the pile of business cards that said he was, indeed Todd -- or at least using Todd's chair! Eventually I realized, as I relaxed further, that his work station was surrounded by little Buddha statues; also reassuring. What the heck, I thought: it's only hair. If it's bad, it'll grow out.

But the cut turned out great -- possibly the best cut I've ever had -- and he was really a lovely man. So when we were done, I asked about the buddhas. He said yes, they were his, and he and his wife, who does color work at the same salon, had lots more of them at home. I was particularly taken with one, which he said he'd found at Target (!) and so the next day (since my husband was out of town) I decided to go on an expedition to Target.

Not surprisingly, Target no longer carried this particular buddha, but for some reason I couldn't let go of this longing for a small buddha statue, so I began prowling the internet. All the statues I found were sort of busy, and shiny -- or huge, heavy garden buddhas. I couldn't say exactly what I was looking for -- or why I was so determined -- but I definitely wasn't finding it.

Eventually it occurred to me to look on Etsy.com. Etsy -- if you haven't already discovered it -- is a wonderful site where artists and craftsmen can sell their creations; if you are a person who is nurtured by seeing the creativity of others it's a wonderful site to browse.

So I went to Etsy and typed in "Buddha" and this is the first image I found. Isn't she lovely? And when I decided to order her, I discovered her sculptor, Anita Feng, lives just on the other side of Seattle, in the town I used to live in when our children were little. So yesterday I went to meet Anita and see her studio, and it was THE MOST AMAZING EXPERIENCE! Her buddhas are just miraculously gorgeous (I'm embarrassed to admit I came home with FOUR of them!) and we discovered we had a great deal in common, too much to go into here.

But I loved that her gorgeous raku buddha statues were contemporary, rich with color, and endowed with a strong feminine energy. I loved even more that they flowed out of both her years as a potter and her years as a Buddhist; a melding of faith and work. Each one has a different face, all tenderly created as she listens and watches for what they might become. And I firmly believe our relationship will not stop here.

Thinking about it now, I find it so curious that the extraordinary gifts of yesterday all began with a visit to a hairdresser, a moment of fear, and an impulse to shop. All these things -- concern about appearances, my fearfulness, and the urge to retail therapy -- tend to be sources of shame for me. How astonishing it is -- though of course it shouldn't astonish me at all! -- that the divine can work through the dark side of me as well as the light.

And then, this morning, I encountered this marvelous poem from Rumi:

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness
comes as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.


So I set this poem here as a thank you: to Todd, for the best haircut ever; to Catherine, for recommending him; and to Anita, for her grace, her creativity, and her hospitality.

But I absolutely must dedicate it to my dear friend Nan Cobbey, whose house almost burned down yesterday, in hopes that the clearing out that has now begun will indeed bring in some new delight.

And to Duley, the Waldo fireman/angel who was first to arrive on the scene and stopped the flames from spreading to Nan's attic, I send piles of Buddha blessings: Thanks so much for saving Nan's lovely new home!

And a special thank you goes out for Clare's amazingly speedy recovery from brain surgery, and to her mother, Cathy, for her courage and equanimity in the face of terror.

And finally, I must express my gratitude for the divine blessings which can flow through everything -- through both joys and sorrows, large and small.