Lotus Musings

Have you ever seen a lotus growing in a pool?  It is one of the most beautiful of water plants.  Although it may appear to float, in reality the lovely lotus flower is rooted in the mud below the surface of the water.  Not the picture you may perceive – yet the truth is: no mud, no lotus.

I recently heard this phrase, “no mud, no lotus,” not at a horticulture seminar, rather last week at a conference on Mindfulness and Psychotherapy sponsored by Harvard Medical School in Boston.  The speaker, Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh, used the phrase as a metaphor for accepting the suffering (unpleasantness) that most certainly is part of the beautiful experience of being fully present in our lives.  It is a balance.  To know happiness, one must know sadness.  To experience the taste of sweet, one's tongue must know the taste of sour.  Although I had read his words in the past and cerebrally understood, last week I got it like never before.

Sitting in the audience (of 1,200) in Boston, my mind traveled back less than a week to the ten days I’d just spent trekking in the Alps (bringing the past into the present).  It had been a relatively difficult trek.  Not at high altitude (although high enough to get snowed on).  Still, each day included at least one pass with quite significant elevation and descent.  The routine pretty much was: three- to four-thousand feet up (often over a scree and boulder-filled trail), to an amazing pass with breathtaking views and an exaltation of “I did this,” followed by a jaw-clenching, knee-jarring descent (over the scree and boulder-filled trail on the other side the summit). 

People often ask me what it is about trekking that is so alluring.  My "getting it" in Boston last week gave me the words to explain.

It is the struggle of the uphill, the wonder and joy of the summit, and the treachery of the downhill.  My appreciation for the summit is at least in part grown in the “mud” of the up and down.  I appreciate knowing that I can have these amazing experiences in many places because I choose to trek – and because I choose to be fully present in the trek.

I do not try to avoid the suffering by stopping, turning back or seeking an easier path.  I accept that the rocks and scree deepen the beauty of the summit. 

It is a way of trekking.  It is a way of being.

There are no trains, planes or automobiles that deliver me.  Yet I am here.

What are your ups and downs today?  Dwell not in one or the other.  Experience each fully.  Appreciate the balance.  And think:

No climbs, no summits.

No mud, no lotus.