High on my office wall, suspended by scotch tape, is a black-and-white photo of the Great Buddha.
Torn from an anthology by some long forgotten colleague, he sits in stone, framed by leaves, musing on eternal transience.
With his huge head bowed over weatherbeaten limbs and his helmet of hair and long ear lobes- I'd say he was looking down, waiting for me to break this silence,
but his eyes are closed and his thoughts (if he has them) are his own.
So between classes I sit here, legs up on a chair, doing nothing, when I should be marking student papers or advancing my career . . . I sit and admire the folds of his robe and the moon-like arc of his eyebrows and am confounded by his unspeakable serenity.
copyright 2001 Phoebe Claire Publishing, LLC All rights reserved