How Big Is A Grain Of Rice?
Living with the Master
One evening at dinnertime, Master picked up a grain of rice with his chopstick and, turning it from one side to the other, silently examined it.
“Prema,” Master invited, “If you wanted to know this grain of rice deeper, what would you do?”
“Well,” Prema offered, “I would reflect on how it is part of God’s creation, a part of God, and honour it for its inherent divinity.”
Master then turned to Devadas. “Devadas, what would you do if you wanted to know this grain of rice deeper?”
“Likewise, I’d see God in that grain of rice and be grateful for how it was nourishing my body,” Devadas replied.
Master nodded, then, turning to Quan Yin, encouraged her, “Go deeper than that.”
Quan Yin tilted her head. “I’d like to know about the rice, where it came from, what it looked like when it was a grain among the leaves, how it was shaped, who picked it…”
Master nodded and looked at me, signalling for my own response.
I’ll be honest with you, I had never really looked very deeply into a grain of rice before. But, as Master was asking around, my own questions about the grain of rice were naturally rising, so I began to voice my thoughts.
“I was considering the rice in a similar way. I was wondering if this grain of rice grew up in Vietnam or Thailand? What did it feel like to grow up in that field — what did it feel like when the sun touched it, or the rain fell on it, or when it swayed in the wind? How did it feel when it was picked and transported?”
“These are all a good start,” Master acknowledged, “but I want you to go deeper than that.”
Instinctively, Prema answered, “I guess when you add all these things together, you can contemplate that so many things had to come together to create that single grain of rice — the sun, rain, earth. And the parent grain, and its parent, and its parent, and suddenly you realise that it has always existed in some form or another since the beginning of time.”
“Yes,” Master affirmed, “that’s good, but can you go deeper than that.”
I blinked, quite surprised. “Deeper than having existed for all eternity?” I thought to myself, “Wow, is there anything deeper than that?”
“How about this.”
His eyes twinkled like a cheeky but ever so sweet little boy who knows something that you do not, and is revelling in the moment he can share it with you.
A person once called him the Child Buddha and it’s times like this that I can really see why. When you see his excitement and playfulness combine with his infinite wisdom an irresistible pull on the heart occurs and you can’t help but naturally adore him.
“How about, how did God feel when she created that grain of rice? What were her feelings? What about how she thought, “Ahh, this will nourish my children. It will be good for them.”
“And what about how the rice felt, growing up strong, with an excitement to nourish you. How about its anticipation to nourish you with its nutrients, vitamins and minerals that it has been so carefully storing for you. What about how it felt when you finally ate it, and its joy at the completion of its heart’s wish to serve you? What about that?”
Well, you could have bowled me over with a feather!
“Have you ever thought of a grain of rice like that?”
We were speechless.
“No Master, not that deeply…”
“Well, don’t you think you should?” he asked gently, eyes still smiling.
The world became so much more alive, so interconnected and eternal. I realised how shallow I had been living, and quietly thanked Master deep in my heart for opening my eyes to such an expansive view of life. I am so much richer for it.
Devika Visintin
