I met a lovely young woman last week.  She had long thick dark hair parted in the center, and big eyes rimmed in kohl.  She wore a peach paisley dress, very soft with a grey shawl.  She is the new lawyer for our Australia territory, visiting our corporate headquarters in a whirlwind tour.  I don't think she slept at all the whole week, due to the 14 hour time difference.  Her eyes got bigger each day as the week wore on.  Finally it was time for my one-on-one meeting with her on Thursday, and we talked about contracts for 45 minutes.  But at the end of the hour, she looked around my office, seeking something to urge us towards a personal connection. 

"You have Ganesh!" she exclaimed with delight.  "Why do you have Ganesh in your office?"  Her smile was like sunshine.  "I just love him," I said, not sure of her background.  She had told me she was Singapore born, of Indian descent, raised in Australia.  Now she asked what I knew about Hindu faith, and I said that my daughter Rhea and I were reading the Ramayana.  She asked if I believed, and that's a tricky question, isn't it?  I don't really believe in the divinity of the various denizens of the Hindu pantheon, but I love the drama and color of it.  I said I spent more time studying Buddhism, but that I appreciated the liveliness of Hindu stories.

She said that after growing up agnostic, in her university years she was drawn to discover something more.  She attended a class in Indian philosophy and religion, and said at first she was disgruntled to be taught her own heritage by an old white guy.  But she quickly grew to respect the professor's depth of knowledge, and developed her own love for the field.  She said that Buddha grew out of the Hindu tradition, and that Buddhism is just a distillation of the wisdom of India.  She said that where Buddhism provides answers, Hindus ask questions and tell stories without answers.  She said that when people get frustrated with Hindu stories, they look to Buddhism for something to hold onto.  She said that Buddhism is black and white, while the Hindu stories provide the color. 

She had been touched particularly, she said, by the image of the mustard seed.  I didn't know what she meant, but I've done some digging on the internet and here's what I've found:

 

In the Chandogya Upanishad of Hinduism:

 

 

(from the website of Jim Rigby)

 

I find that the concept, the interconnectedness of all, reminds me of Tao and Zen Buddhism.  But the poetry of it, the visual imagery, these are much more exciting.  After years of a rather dry reading on the unity of all, this image of the seed that is the sky captures my heart.

I hugged my new colleague goodbye, and as we parted, I noticed the fine lines around her eyes.  Perhaps she was not as young as I thought.