Jisetsu

or, A Tale of Two Buddhas

The young Buddha sat in the shadow of the Triplets for a few years. He was nearly two feet tall, a composite cast statue of the Buddha, a present from M to replace the old Buddha garden statue we previously had for about 20 years, whose head had separated from his body. This old Buddha, which I believe I purchased at Target around 2003 and was made from some kind of dense rubber-like material, sat for many years first on the deck, then at the front door of our home in Nashville, and for a few years on the deck in Midlothian before finally succumbing to the rigors of a life spent outdoors. One afternoon as I was cleaning the deck and picked up the old Buddha to move him, his head came off in my hand. The body of that Buddha was long gone but in a bodyless afterlife, for a few years his old head sat vigil in a mossy crook of the Triplets’ roots on the other side of the three trees, back to back with this Buddha, as it were.

The old Buddha had a long and fruitful life, for an inexpensive outdoor garden ornament made of nondurable materials. His countenance always cheered me and during the years in Nashville and Midlothian when he sat by the entrance he was the first to greet me when I came home each day.

The young Buddha was not so fortunate. After only a couple of years, his complexion began to show evidence of the beating he had taken from the wind and rain, and disfiguring pock marks appeared all over his body. The faux stone gray coloring and finish slowly chipped away to reveal the cheap white composite underneath. Nonetheless he sat serenely at the foot of the Triplets, the three giant white oak trees who grew very close together and dominated the small grove of oak trees in our yard. He did his job. As he gazed upon the back yard in contemplation his presence brought calm and grace to our little suburban oasis. He was a successful Buddha garden ornament.

But the time came to leave Midlothian, and when I looked closely at the young Buddha I found that he was not only chipped and damaged from the weather, he was also dirty, water logged, and infested with bugs from underneath. Not being made of stone as his ancestral garden statuary are, the passing of Time had proceeded much swifter for him even than for old Buddha. I was not going to be able to clean him up adequately enough for him to move with us to Crozet, and determined that, as unpleasant as it would be for both of us, I would have to dispose of him.

At last the time came, on the very last day before we moved. I was loading the car for my final trip to the dump, but I couldn’t bring myself to just toss young Buddha into the garbage can. I brought a strong, clean garbage bag and prepared young Buddha for burial.

Being removed from his post under the Triplets and placed in a trash bag did not disrupt his concentration and serenity in the least. The young Buddha continued to meditate as before.

I drove him to the dump in the back of my car. He was accompanied by numerous broken down cardboard boxes, a broken wooden gate with rusted hinges, worn out garden hoses, and other bags like the one he occupied alone that were instead filled with all manner of household trash: the detritus of things cast off on moving day. It was a hot day and I was sweaty and tired and had another long drive ahead of me after this errand was complete.

When I got to the dump. I paid my fee and drove to the dock above the dumpsters lined up to receive their haul for the landfill. I backed the car up to the rail and unloaded what I had brought.

When I took the young Buddha out of the car, I placed him on the rail above the dumpsters for a moment. The young Buddha continued to meditate as before. Even in the last moment before I closed up the garbage bag and dropped him in the bin, his composure did not waver.

I did not say any words. He was, after all, a garden ornament. I stood there with him for a moment, silently, then closed up the bag and dropped him in the bin.