The Memory Painter

Bodhidharma did not answer: he had already folded his body into a lotus position. His mind had begun its journey.

Huike stayed at the cave entrance for hours, watching the strange Indian monk meditate. Bodhidharma’s body never moved. His breathing was almost imperceptible. Huike came back the next day and then the next, but every day Bodhidharma remained as still as stone.

The monks at Shaolin had never heard of anything like it. Weeks went by. Every day another monk would sneak away from his duties to watch Bodhidharma sit in the cave.

The weeks turned into months, and the monk’s initial astonishment turned into reverence. Abbot Fang assigned a monk to visit the cave once a week to make sure the master still lived. Otherwise, he ordered everyone to stay away so that they would not disturb this holy man.

Through nine falls, nine winters, nine springs, and nine summers, Bodhidharma sat in stillness as the elements performed their dance around him.

*

Bodhidharma took several breaths to ground himself and willed his Chi to expand. As sensation returned to his body, he was surprised to find his neck was stiff. He moved it from side to side and noticed Huike, asleep on a mat at the cave entrance.

His meditation had given him great insight, and Bodhidharma studied the young man with a thoughtful gaze. Throughout his life, he had felt that he must come to China. Now he understood why.

He took a stick from the ground and gently poked Huike until he was awake.

Huike opened his eyes and screamed as Bodhidharma leaned over him, looking like a phantom covered in dirt. Huike scurried backward in a blind panic until he hit the wall and fell.

The master sat back on his heels and scratched his head, dislocating the bugs that were nesting in his hair. “Why do you run away?”

Huike tried to find his voice. “Are you a ghost?”

Bodhidharma considered the question. “A ghost has no hunger. I am ready for food and water now.”

The monk gaped at him, dumbfounded.

Bodhidharma reminded him, “You did offer, did you not?”

Huike stuttered, “Yes, but that was nine years ago!”

“Nine years?” Bodhidharma’s eyebrows rose. “Then please bring extra rice.”

Huike leapt to his feet and ran off.

Bodhidharma called him back. “Huike, why were you sleeping here?”

Huike bowed low. “Sometimes I come here to watch you. I wish to become your student,” he confessed.

Bodhidharma picked the remaining bugs from his hair and gave them a new home on the rocks that were scattered about the cave’s floor. “Don’t be delusional. I have nothing to teach you.”

Huike took a passionate step forward. “You have everything to teach me.”

“You will not think so in our next life. In fact, you will kill me many times over. I have seen our future.”

During his meditation a goddess had appeared before him with the eyes of an Ancient One. She had shared with him visions of his future selves. He had watched them with great compassion, and then he had felt his spirit returning to his body.

Bodhidharma smiled. At hearing this news, Huike had thrown himself on the ground in a dramatic show of servitude.

“Please, I would rather cut off a limb than do you harm,” Huike said.

“And yet you still have two arms.” Bodhidharma chuckled and stepped over Huike’s body. He walked out of the cave.

Huike jumped up to follow him. “Wait! Where are you going?”

Bodhidharma was already halfway down the mountainside. “To pick berries. You are taking too long with my rice.”

His back was to Huike, and Huike could not see his smile. The truth was that Bodhidharma would never refuse someone seeking the Way. Their spirits had connected in this life, and although Bodhidharma had seen Huike lost in the future, wandering at the opposite end of the light, he did not judge Huike for his future actions. Bodhidharma vowed to teach him everything he knew.

*

When Bodhidharma returned to his cave, he found Abbot Chang waiting with a rather large entourage. Huike was missing.

Bodhidharma waved to the monks, calling out, “I was most surprised to find it is summer. The berries taste delicious.”

The men stared at him with awe as he approached them. Abbot Fang knelt on the ground. “Please, Enlightened One, forgive our ignorance in not granting you entry to Shaolin. We have come to beg you to stay with us for as long as you are able and bless us with your wisdom.”

The Abbot had not aged well. Bodhidharma noted how much more feeble the old man looked. He held out his hand to help him stand.

Abbot Fang gazed at him with wide eyes. “How were you able to meditate for so many years?”

“Quite simply. I can teach you.”