The Lotus Blossom

One day, many centuries ago, a little Hindu boy named Arujani was playing outside, when he stumbled upon a lotus seed pod, with some seeds still left in it. Excitedly, he took the pod home to his mother and asked if they could plant the seeds.

His mother said, “Oh! Of course! The lotus is a very special plant. Do you know why, chookra?” (Which means “little one” in Hindi)

Arujani said, “I do not, mother, but I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.”

With a smile and a little laugh, his mother said, “Indeed I am! The lotus flower grows from the depths of a mud-encased bed, just a few inches below the surface of a lake or a pond. As it grows, it reaches ever up towards the light, the petals of the flower closed so tightly that no water or mud can get in. Once the lotus is floating on top of the muddy lake, the sunlight opens its petals, and the flower blossoms, ready to receive the warm, nourishing love of the sun. Out of the dirt and mud comes something pure and beautiful. Isn’t that interesting, little one?” Only half paying attention, Arujani said, “Uh, yeah. Very interesting. So can we plant these now?” His mother laughed, and together they walked outside to a nearby pond, waded into the water, and dropped the lotus seeds into the muddy bed.

“Now what?” The little boy asked.

“Now we wait,” said his mother.

“Wait for what?” Asked Arujani

“For these seeds to find their path out of the mud.”

Every day after they dropped the lotus seeds into the pond, Arujani would rush to the edge to see if he could make out any growth. But every day, he saw nothing. If anything was happening in the mud, he sure couldn’t tell.

“Mother,” he said, “I think perhaps the seeds have died. How long has it been? Many moons have passed, yet I see no sign of growth.”

“Patience, my dear Arujani,” his mother said. “Growth takes time! You were not born able to walk and find lotus seeds and ask so many questions! It has taken 10 years for you to become who you are now. It will not take that long for the lotus, but it’s forming beneath the surface even now, even though you can’t see it. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

“Yes mother, growth takes place beneath the surface. It was an obvious metaphor,” Arujani said, somewhat defiantly. “Perhaps,” said his mother, “but you need to understand the significance of the lotus blossom and what it means for our people!”

“Why do I feel another lesson coming on?” Arujani asked.

Smiling patiently and tussling her son’s jet-black hair, Arujani’s mother said, “the lotus represents purity and beauty, my child, and the unfolding petals of the flower that floats above the muck and mire suggest the expansion of our own spiritual awareness as we grow from infants, to children, through adulthood and old age.” Arujani thought about this for a moment. “So, let me get this straight,” Arujani began, “are you saying that we should stay above the muck and mire? That’s no fun! I love playing in the mud!”

“Of course you do!” Arujani’s mother proclaimed. “All little boys love playing in the mud. I’m still speaking in metaphors though. Did I lose you?” She asked wryly. “No, no, you didn’t lose me. I was just hoping we were finished so I could go see if this lotus was blooming or not… and maybe play in the mud!”

Unfazed, Arujani’s mother continued: “The lotus also represents hope, Arujani—that from the depths of our often muddy and messy lives, spiritual growth still occurs. Even though you love playing in the mud, Arujani, you still desire a bath afterward, do you not?”

Arujani thought about this for a minute. Then another minute. He kind of liked being covered in mud, but he had to admit his mother was right. Eventually he wanted the mud washed off. “Yes mother, it is true--once the mud starts to cake and dry, it’s not much fun anymore—it’s just annoying.” Arujani’s mother said, “That’s a good start. Now think about the lotus—it grows through the mud, but never becomes muddy itself. Once the bud of the flower works through the murky water, it floats gently on top, finally opening its petals—clean, brilliantly colored, and perfect—untainted by its muddy birth and muddy existence.”

“So you mean that the flower won’t have to wait for a rainstorm or a gardner to cleanse it? It was born and will blossom perfectly?” Arujani asked. “That’s correct, Arujani. Eventually the lotus will bloom, and it will be perfect, just like you,” said his mother. “I’m not perfect, mother. Please! My grades are average and I like to play in the mud.” Arujani said this somewhat dejectedly; he was starting to think he should be more like the lotus blossom and maybe work his way more carefully through the mud. Arujani’s mother laughed out loud. “But that is perfect, chookra. It is what little boys do. And life is about more than grades, it’s about what you learn through the trials, not the grade on the trials themselves.”

“So you don’t mind if I fail my exams?” Arujani asked, knowing full well this was not what his mother meant. “You know better than that, Arujani. And you know very well what I mean. Like the lotus, our life is full of adventure as we allow our spirituality to unfold. Like the petals of the lotus, we are many-faceted creatures, and like the lotus, our journey to spiritual awareness is perfect as it is, no matter what path it takes. Do you know what our job is in life, Arujani?”

Arujani thought for a moment, knowing this was going to be a trick question. “Well, papa raises cows, and you cook magnificent meals. Uncle Krishna is in the army. There are lots of jobs! I think I’d like to grow lotuses. Which reminds me—do you think that lotus is blooming yet?” Arujani grabbed his mother’s arm and began pulling her outside.

As they walked toward the pond, his mother continued her lesson: “We all have different careers, but our career is not our job. We have one job on this earth, my love, and that is to allow our own lotus flower to fully bloom.”

“I know where you’re going with this, mother,” Arujani said as they walked hand-in-hand to the edge of the pond. “Like this lotus—hey! It’s floating on the water’s surface!” He said excitedly. “And there are many more, too! They are beautiful!”

“Yes dear, exactly,” Arujani’s mother said. “There are many more lotuses, all over the world, all working their way through the mud and into the light. There are millions of us, born as clean as we ever will be, working our way through the mud of life, and simply waiting to blossom.”

“To blossom so we too can feel the warm light, mother?” Arujani asked.

“To blossom so we too can be the warm light, Arujani,” she replied.