Miss Buddha by Ulf Wolf Page B

palace.
    The sun had yet to rise.
    :
    Eight years later, his commitments now
fulfilled, Ananda—along with his half-brother Anuruddha, as well as
Devadatta and several other Sakyan nobles—set out to join
Siddhattha. They caught up with him at Savatthi.
    The now enlightened one could not have been
more pleased. Seeing his old friend approach from a distance, he
halted his discourse, rose, and strode to greet him.
    “And so we meet again,” said the Buddha
after asking Ananda to rise, and embracing him.
     
    Eighteen years later, when they were both
fifty-five years old, the Buddha called a meeting of the monks and
declared: “In my twenty years as leader of the Sangha, I have had
many different attendants, but none of them has really filled the
post perfectly; again and again some willfulness has become
apparent. Now I am fifty-five years old and it is necessary for me
to have a trustworthy and reliable attendant.”
    Several of the noble disciples offered their
services, but the Buddha, while thanking them all, declined their
offers. Then he looked to Ananda, who had held back modestly, and
asked him to volunteer.
    This—being the Buddha’s wish—Ananda then
did, and would for the rest of Gotama Buddha’s life remain his
constant companion, attendant, and helper.
    The two friends were truly together
again.
    :
    Not long after Ananda had accepted and
assumed the role of the Buddha’s attendant, they arrived—along with
three hundred some monks—at Kusinara, in the Mallas’s Sal-grove.
After taking evening tea and briefly discussing one or two issues
concerning the Sangha, the Buddha told Ananda he wanted to retire
for the day.
    When Ananda did not answer right away,
Siddhattha took a closer look at his friend, and in his face
recognized a budding question, held in check by consideration for
the Buddha’s wish to retire.
    “What is it, Ananda?”
    “Can I ask you a question?”
    “Of course, Ananda. What is it?”
    Ananda hesitated a while longer, as if
weighing whether to burden the Enlightened One with his
concern.
    “Ask me,” said Siddhattha.
    Ananda drew breath, and then said,
“Venerable Sir. For over eighteen years I have faithfully practiced
the Dhamma. Under your tutelage I have practiced higher training.
For over eighteen years no sensual perception has arisen in me, no
desire, no perception of hate has arisen in me. Yet, I have not
reached arahanthood.
    “If I, your faithful servant, your vessel
and Guardian of the Dhamma, have yet to land on the arahant shore,
have yet to see Nibbana after these eighteen years, how long is not
the road for the ignorant farmer, the jealous mistress, the greedy
merchant?
    “And with so many beings in the world, with
so much suffering, is our task truly possible?”
    Siddhattha Gotama did not answer right away.
Perhaps because Ananda’s doubt—if doubt it was—resonated dimly
within himself, or perhaps because he was not sure how to frame the
answer. Then he spoke:
    “Friend. This is a universe of plenty.
Still, given time, you can empty the ocean with a spoon. It is only
a matter of quantity.”
    “It is a large ocean.”
    “Yes, Ananda. It is vast. Yet this ocean can
only be emptied drop by drop.”
    “It is possible then?”
    “Yes. Drop by drop.”

:: 10 :: (Still River)
     
    In the quiet morning Ananda hears the
far-away wondering of Gotama Buddha, soon to be Ruth Marten. Soon
to set forth again from Tusita Heaven.
    “Ananda, where are you?”
    And in the same stillness, he answers him:
“I am here, Gotama. In this cabin. At this keyboard. Dreaming your
new arrival into being.”
    Gotama Buddha asks: “Where
is here ,
Ananda?”
    “Here is a small town by a river.”
    “What is it called, this small town?”
    “It is called Still River. It is a clearing
in the large forests of the north-western United States, in the
state of Idaho. Not far from Canada.”
    “What are you doing there?”
    “I listen, I understand, and I take good
notes. And