Buddha goes for a long walk one day deep into the forested mountains. Being a rotund sort of fellow, Buddha waddles more than he walks. His huge stomach leads the way as he enjoys the babbling brook and the chirping birds. He finds some wild strawberries and savors them along his way.
Soon he is tired. He sits carefully in the lotus position on a pile of leaves and transcends into an afternoon nap. More tired than he thinks, he sleeps longer than he expects.
He wakes up just as the sun is setting and the moon is rising. The sun goes down as the moon comes up almost as bright as its counterpart.
A chilling howl breaks the dusky stillness. Startled, despite his godly inner calm, Buddha topples over like a squatty bowling pin. Chanting a few oms that sounded more like curses to the squirrel on the branch above, Buddha struggles to his feet to begin his return trip.
Another howl. This one is closer, longer, and louder than the previous. Buddha looks toward the gigantic yellow moon silhouetting a vivid image of a huge coyote in the process of howling again.
Another howl.
Deep within the mellowness of Buddha’s being, a worry sprouts and festers. This unique experience makes the buddha tummy growl.
“Maybe it’s supper time,” thinks the practical Buddha. The gravity of the situation, however, coupled with the effect of gravity upon his rotundness makes his return waddle mighty slow.
Another howl, and the coyote moon is closer, larger, and louder. But, so are the growls that emanate from right below the buddha belly button.
The two guttural voices vie for attention. Buddha stops and contemplates his navel. It has always worked in the past.
Nevertheless, the howl and the growl continue their duet. In his guru wisdom, Buddha realizes that either the previously eaten strawberries have lost their nutritional essence and he is starving, or the wart of worry deep within his mellowness is pleading with him to do an absolutely un-buddha-like act – RUN.
Either way, any guru would conclude that navel contemplation is not the solution to growls and howls.
Another howl! Another growl!
All things change even as time sometimes seems to crawl infinitely slower than a timid Buddha can waddle when faced with a howling coyote moon. Therefore, Buddha’s situation changes too – from a confrontation with a lunar icon to a confrontation with the flesh, bone, and howl of a real coyote upfront, personal, and in his face.
What we have now is a classic conflict between wild and tame, vicious, and timid, aggressive and passive, om and gurr. Buddha has nothing between him and the coyote except his belly.
The coyote growls. Buddha howls. The coyote howls. The tummy growls.
The yellow moon grows colossal to silhouette Buddha and the coyote growling, howling, and rubbing tummies.
Coyotes, Gods, and Other Critters 