No Nose Buddha

Grateful for the Buddha without a nose.

He is a friend I made in Austin. Visiting with him on long walks through the neighborhood was a regular occurrence when I lived there.

We watched a garage being torn down one morning. He and me.

Destruction. Dust and debris. A poignant metaphor for what it felt like to be me in that moment.

He smiled.

Someone(s) had removed his nose long before we met. Chipped it away. Gone. Nada. Zilch.

Still he smiled.

He sat there through the blast furnace of Central Texas summers, torrential rains and short bouts of winter cold.

Still he smiled.

More than one dog (and probably a human or two) used him like some kind of metaphysical fire hydrant.

Still he smiled.

Trash littered his home some days. Other days he was adorned with beads, weeds, trinkets, blue spray paint or street treasures.

Still he smiled.

Seems whatever happened to him or around him meant nothing more than any other event.

Still he smiled.

I’m certain his smile brought out fear for some. Perhaps that is why he lost his nose?

Smiles for no apparent reason have that effect on some people. Makes them very uneasy and suspicious.

Sometimes a smile simply makes other folks smile too.

Either way.

He still smiles.

Thank you.