Strolling through the fields near the village, my attention was drawn to some downy seeds which were drifting through the air. Backlit by the late afternoon sun, they looked radiant, magical even. There was barely any wind, merely the hint of a breeze. Yet it was enough, to carry the seeds aloft.
Where would the seeds land? Nobody could say. The seeds themselves had no idea. Yet they were happy to float through the air, borne along by the gentle breeze, in complete trust that they would be carried wherever they needed to go.
Such is the life of a downy seed. Such is the life of a buddha.
