Chaz: a new story

Ancient Bodhisattva

I wander through fields, along streams and I hike across meadows to reach a stream where I drink the clear cold water by cupping my hands together. I hike in ravines and climb up the sides of gulleys. I slip in the mud and I have to push back the branches of trees that obscure the path.

The winter sun splashes light around me glancing off the snow. I wander as I did as a young boy. Alone, quietly going in one direction from home until it is time to retrace my steps and return for dinner.

Only my mother will not be calling my name out in the darkness. She won't be letting the neighborhood know I should be at the table in five minutes. She won't be doing that because now I am an ancient one.

I am an old man draped in robes and carrying only a wooden bowl. I once had a wooden spoon as well but the spoon became too much of an ego object for me to continue to contend with. The spoon separated me from nature and caused me to judge those who didn't have a spoon. I stand on this hill and view out towards the west. I am crying now because as the sun sets it reminds me of so many nights when my family would wait for me to return from my wanderings and how safe I felt when I returned and sat at the table and ate the meal that was before me. The food never mattered to me as it was always more important to me that my parents wanted me to be there no matter how I behaved. I miss those times so long ago.

Now I am a Bodhisattva. I wander the countryside like the child I used to be and as evening comes I gather myself and walk into the next city or town that I happen upon and find the city center. I place myself on a busy street corner and begin to share my stories with whoever will fill my bowl with food or drink. I engage with others to share this creative world that god has given us.

I share the accounts of my travels in far distant oriental lands or I go into great detail about how I sailed in the Adriatic Ocean with scarcely any equipment using only my wits to travel safely from the Dalmatian Islands to Crete when the Minoans ruled. I tell the tales of passing Atlantis and seeing the debris of the great civilization floating by next to my ship. On occasion, if I am prompted, I discuss Pythagoras and the meaning of Pi. Many young people quiz me on the time I lived in Africa and want to know how they fish in Gabon or track wild prey in Kenya.

I have given up all of my worldly goods and desires to wander the face of the earth looking for the divine spirit in all things. The universe beckons to me and I want to be with it all. When I hear Mozart in my head I open my mouth and try to let the music stream out so I can share this with the divine. I wish for everyone to be allowed to raise their consciousness and bring spirit into their life.

And even though I am ancient and find myself growing weary as night falls I only wish that my devotion to the divine has not separated me from others. I have given up so much and as I meditate at night I repeat the name of god so that my mind will not wander off to the people and places that my worldly self misses so much.

I awake each morning and start off again with the hope that God will fulfill me. This is my journey. If pirates should capture me and tie me to a tree I will still repeat the names of God to protect me. If the pirates should cut out my tongue I will continue repeating the name of God only silently now.

I will see you on the journey someday. We must all travel this path at some time. I started when I least expected to. Be careful of your choices. That is all I have to say.

Mr. Bodhisattva