for every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you

That's my favourite line from Walt Whitman. Read it here.

This morning, as I was reading my Buddhism homework, a lot of things clicked.

My Grandmother has always been a very happy and content woman. She led a very full and exciting life. But she didn't have to be traveling the world to feel that way -- she could find just as much joy in watching the sun rise from a folding chair on her front porch as seeing the pyramids or the Eiffel Tower. She could delight as much in a Little Debbie as a pastery baked in one of Europe's finest shops. A ride around her yard in her little yellow golfcart was just as good as any weekend roadtrip.

I saw my aunt for the first time in years last week. We sat down for some brownies (a pre and post dinner treat) and my aunt noticed me break off a piece, roll it into a ball in my fingers, and then pop it into my mouth. "Hey, you roll up each bite just the same as me!" I turned my head to look at my aunt. First the smiling face. Then the brownie ball in fingers. I grinned a choclately smile at her and we laughed. Conversation continued.

Now, I've only seen Aunt Sue a few times in my life. We definitely haven't spent enough time together for me to have picked up that habit from her. My mother eats everything with a fork; I didn't learn this from her. My other aunt doesn't really have much of an appetite for sweets. I surely did not take that from her. The only other person Aunt Sue and I have in common is Grandmother.

Such a small, silly thing. But she'll live on in that.

I've been taught my whole life that Heavenly Father has a plan. That He has created all, all is created by him, and we are all kindred in that. My father's close attention to detail has often pointed out to me the absolute genius of this plan in the interconnectedness of all things. You see, all of the life on this earth works together. One exists for the other. For shelter, for energy, for food, for growth, for wisdom, for protection, for love. Life is not solitary, but overlapping. And this is the beauty and the brilliance -- where one lacks, another fills.

I keep hitting a wall with the word "empty" in my Buddhist readings. I hate the perception of life as empty. I look at my Grandmother and her understanding of how full and wonderful and simple and lovely each and every day can be. Wisdom in emptiness made zero sense. But today I read from a chapter on Mahayana teachings. Once again: higher wisdom=realizing emptiness. However, the idea of this emptiness in Mahayana is closer to svabhava-sunya -- "empty of own-being." Wisdom comes in recognizing that nothing can exist on its own. Sunya, in Sanskrit, means "hollow." Something that looks solid, but is actually hollow inside. Freedom comes from realizing that nothing exists on its own, because once you realize that nothing exists on its own, you can see it as it really is. You can put away harmful attachments, defilements, and delusions. You can see every living thing as beautiful and glorious as it was created to be.

"Each being needs the full matrix of life to be what it truly is."

It's amazing how rolling my piece of brownie into a small ball can make me feel closer to God. It's also amazing that He cares enough to know that that one small reminder of Grandmother makes me feel fuller.

(Thank you Mr. Donald W. Mitchell and your book Buddhism)