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Blooming rose

  The Rose  

There was a slight nip in the air that late afternoon and all was quiet except for the faint cadence of the nuns at the nearby convent reciting the Heart Sutra. Two monks were walking in the monastery garden when one stopped in front of a bush that had on its highest branch and at the peak of its glory, the last rose of the season. Looking at the flower the monk frowned, "Impermanence is so sad!" he sighed, "Look at this beautiful blossom! It will soon wither, fall and become nothing more than compost." The other monk joined in his brother's sorrow and lowered his eyes. Looking down at the bush's roots he suddenly laughed, "Impermanence is so wonderful!" he cried "The flower will fall and it will rot, but then it will nourish the bush and come back as one of next year's roses!" The abbot, who had been walking behind the monks and had overheard their conversation, stepped up beside them. "My brothers, you are both correct." He said with a wise smile, "But there is a greater truth to be had -- step out of the endless cycle of existence and into the eternal moment. In this moment the rose is not going, it is not coming. In this moment, the rose is here!"

~M. Lee DuBose©~

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