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Subhuti was one of the disciples of Buddha. One fine day seeking solitude, he decided on a short respite from the hot rays of the midday sun and rested under a fine old tree. He leaned his back to the sturdy trunk welcoming the gentle, fragrant breeze caressing his face. He closed his eyes and quietly reflected on the importance of emptiness, then his thoughts extended to the notion that nothing exists without bias and true impartiality. Suddenly flowers began to cascade on and all about him.
“We are praising you for your discourse on emptiness,” the falling petals whispered to him.
“But I have not voiced my thoughts.” Sabhuti protested.
“You have not spoken of emptiness, we have not heard any emptiness,” responded the swaying branches still decked in white delicate flowers. “This is the true emptiness.” Then the deluge of gleeful, smiling fragrant petals hugged Subhuti.
