With nowhere to go, it was fine for a wintry blast to blanket my garden Buddha. It was not long before the pristine snow dissolved into a slushy muddy mix of earth and icy rain. Its spotlessness was as improbable to keep as a pure thought that the Buddha said brought happiness: "We are shaped by our thoughts; we become what we think. When the mind is pure, joy follows like a shadow that never leaves." If my backyard Buddha could talk, I would ask: Is a pure thought a selfless thought or less thought ... and why is holding one as fleeting as a snowflake melting the moment it is caught?
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