Buttprints in the buckwheat...

What kind of footprints do you leave when you're sitting still?

I just realized that it's about the 6th anniversary of my really stepping out onto the Buddhist path.  I say "about" because I'm not entirely certain of the date.  I'm pretty sure I need to write about that event sometime soon, but I won't be able to pull it off today.  Suffice it to say that I'm pretty thankful that I took the direction I did.

My father loved this old gem.  It gave him great comfort in his last years as he was dying of congestive heart failure.  My old man carried a lot of grief with him, and the thought of his Lord carrying him in times of trouble gave him solace: 

One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord. Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky.  In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand. Sometimes there were two sets of footprints, other times there was one only.  This bothered me because I noticed that during the low periods of my life, when I was suffering from anguish, sorrow or defeat, I could see only one set of footprints, so I said to the Lord, “You promised me Lord, that if I followed you, you would walk with me always. But I have noticed that during the most trying periods of my life there has only been one set of footprints in the sand. Why, when I needed you most, have you not been there for me?”

The Lord replied, “The years when you have seen only one set of footprints, my child, is when I carried you.”

Admittedly, it's a sweet (and yes, some say "twee") sentiment.  My mother and father even sent me a (so severely tacky it was almost precious) wind-chime sculpted from this motif.  It never rang out in my life, because frankly, by the time it was given to me, it was already ringing hollow.  I don't mean that to sound bitter, although I'm sure it does.

It's interesting to me, though; us Buddhists don't really have much by way of pithy wall-hanging-and-windchime-worthy stuff, do we?  I mean, we have our kitch, don't get me wrong, but I think that the D.I.Y. aspect of our faith--and the conspicuous absence of a "savior"--tends to nullify the warm-fuzzy angle when it comes to marketing opportunities, dunnit?

More pith later...