{"id":346,"date":"2012-12-11T01:04:34","date_gmt":"2012-12-11T05:04:34","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/poem.oftheweek.org\/?p=346"},"modified":"2012-12-11T01:07:15","modified_gmt":"2012-12-11T05:07:15","slug":"shoveling-snow-with-buddha-billy-collins","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/poem.oftheweek.org\/?p=346","title":{"rendered":"Shoveling Snow with Buddha – Billy Collins"},"content":{"rendered":"

[audio:Shoveling_Snow_with_the_Buddha.mp3]
\n(2:22)
\n(Audio from The Best Cigarette<\/em><\/a>
\n(Text from\u00a0Picnic, Lightning<\/em><\/a>)<\/span><\/p>\n

In the usual iconography of the temple or the local Wok
\nyou would never see him doing such a thing,
\ntossing the dry snow over a mountain
\nof his bare, round shoulder,
\nhis hair tied in a knot,
\na model of concentration.<\/p>\n

Sitting is more his speed, if that is the word
\nfor what he does, or does not do.<\/p>\n

Even the season is wrong for him.
\nIn all his manifestations, is it not warm or slightly humid?
\nIs this not implied by his serene expression,
\nthat smile so wide it wraps itself around the waist of the universe?
\nBut here we are, working our way down the driveway,
\none shovelful at a time.<\/p>\n

We toss the light powder into the clear air.
\nWe feel the cold mist on our faces.
\nAnd with every heave we disappear
\nand become lost to each other
\nin these sudden clouds of our own making,
\nthese fountain-bursts of snow.<\/p>\n

This is so much better than a sermon in church,
\nI say out loud, but Buddha keeps on shoveling.
\nThis is the true religion, the religion of snow,
\nand sunlight and winter geese barking in the sky,
\nI say, but he is too busy to hear me.<\/p>\n

He has thrown himself into shoveling snow
\nas if it were the purpose of existence,
\nas if the sign of a perfect life were a clear driveway
\nyou could back the car down easily
\nand drive off into the vanities of the world
\nwith a broken heater fan and a song on the radio.<\/p>\n

All morning long we work side by side,
\nme with my commentary
\nand he inside his generous pocket of silence,
\nuntil the hour is nearly noon
\nand the snow is piled high all around us;
\nthen, I hear him speak.<\/p>\n

After this, he asks,
\ncan we go inside and play cards?<\/p>\n

Certainly, I reply, and I will heat some milk
\nand bring cups of hot chocolate to the table
\nwhile you shuffle the deck.
\nand our boots stand dripping by the door.<\/p>\n

Aaah, says the Buddha, lifting his eyes
\nand leaning for a moment on his shovel
\nbefore he drives the thin blade again
\ndeep into the glittering white snow.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

[audio:Shoveling_Snow_with_the_Buddha.mp3] (2:22) (Audio from The Best Cigarette (Text from\u00a0Picnic, Lightning) In the usual iconography of the temple or the local Wok you would never see him doing such a thing, tossing the dry snow over a mountain of his bare, round shoulder, his hair tied in a knot, a model of concentration. Sitting is more […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[9,73],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-346","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-audio","category-collins"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/poem.oftheweek.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/346","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/poem.oftheweek.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/poem.oftheweek.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/poem.oftheweek.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/poem.oftheweek.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=346"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/poem.oftheweek.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/346\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":351,"href":"https:\/\/poem.oftheweek.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/346\/revisions\/351"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/poem.oftheweek.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=346"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/poem.oftheweek.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=346"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/poem.oftheweek.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=346"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}