The Holiness of Plants
On the island of Shikoku, near a small Shinto shrine
towers an immense pine tree. Worshipers circle its trunk
with a ring of thick rope; this is sacred ground.
In Thailand Buddhist monks conduct
tree ordinations, wrapping orange
robes around the boles. Ritually blessed water
is passed around, and foresters spare
these aboreal clergy from the axe.
In tenth century Japan, priests and monks
debate the question
“Can trees and plants be enlightened?”
Yes, says Ryogen, Abbot of Mount Hiei, who
sees the shrubs and flowers in his garden
asd yogis in meditation, sitting
silent, still, on their way to nirvana.
This morning I, too, sit in my garden,
hands folded, head bowed.
Around me nasturtiums
glow orange under leaf umbrellas.
Rose azaleas flicker scarlet
against purple aster, deep blue monkshood.
The early sun, without distinction,
burnishes us all.
Drenched in light, we glimmer and glisten
enlightened, enveloped, so tenderly
held in the mystery.
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