Long ago, when the World-Honoured One was at Mount Grdhrakuta to give a talk, he held up a flower for the assemblage. At this, all remained silent. The Venerable Kasho alone broke into a smile. The World-Honoured One said: “I have the all-pervading True Dharma, incomparable Nirvana, exquisite teaching of formless form. It does not rely on letters and is transmitted outside scriptures. I now hand it to Maha Kasho”.
Sakuyamuni held up a flower, and Maha Kasho broke into a smile. All around them was silence. Like a raindrop forming on a leaf in the rain, a Moment broke itself free from the big gathering at Vulture Mountain and held the three of them within it: Sakuyamuni, Maha Kasha and the flower.
It is said that everybody in the crowd was silent because nobody but Maha Kasha understood what Shakuyamuni was saying with a flower instead of with words. But I think it is unlikely that only Maha Kasha understood, although others did not understand with the depth and clarity that he did. Or maybe someone did, but Maha Kasha was the one the Buddha happened to see. These are speculations, and how much does it matter? The person seen is, of course, the centre of this story about transmission, but what about the Moment? I like to think that when Maha Kasha smiled, everything fell away, and there were only those three: Shakuyamuni knew that Maha Kasha knew, Maha Kasha knew that the Buddha knew that he knew, the flower was the knowledge beyond words, and the three of them were held in that Moment, sealed with a smile.
The story is quoted as a defining moment in the transmission of the dharma in Zen tradition, a transmission that relies on depth of experience rather than intellectual understanding. I think that it is also a story about time. The theoretical physicist Carlo Rovelli tells us that what we call time is a very untidy assembly of phenomena that do not work together at all. It is we who create them into a sequence of past, present and future by virtue of our memory, regrets, hopes, fears, terrors and pleasures. This invention of time holds us in its grip and away from reality as moments come and go. Moments can come as a precious break from time’s vice-like grip; we may learn to lean back in peace, the world may open up, and we may find our place in the Moment as part of movement and constant change.
We were in Edinburgh on an impromptu visit caused by a desire, and I can only admit, to get away from the present by calling up happy moments from the past: visiting good friends and old places. When we are in Edinburgh, we invariably end up at Karen and Carl’s, who call in the Porty Wheelers (a hapless group of cycling friends whose main exploits were the “Chris Huby’s Bread and Butter Pudding Runs” to a cafe in East Lothian) and Caren lays on a three-course meal. The Porty Wheelers go back a long way. We realise that much changes and much stays the same when we get together for Karen’s dinners. A new development is that Chris can no longer get up even gentle hills on his own lung and heart power and has to borrow Carl’s electric bike to go cycling.
We were walking back along the seaside promenade after an exceptionally lovely time at Karen and Carl’s. The evening was clear, but there was a cold wind, and Chris could not speak because the wind affected his breath and set him off coughing. So we walked slowly, hand in hand and in silence, along the prom, which seemed spectacularly beautiful that evening, with a full moon peeking out between moving clouds. Although we did not speak, we both knew what was at stake and that there are parts of life we love which will never come back, never mind life itself.
We had lived much of our Edinburgh life on the prom, and suddenly, I met a younger me walking in early winter spectacular moonlight with three young children on our way back from the swimming baths. Time did a summersault and got all confused with itself. For a brief glimpse, I knew that although things clearly were only going one way, the Moment, if we can live it, is always present and full of possibilities.
And it may very well have been the wine, but I swear the moon was winking and smiling at me from behind a thin veil of cloud.