Breaking the Ice with Buddha

In the idealistic temple of my soul, out in the cold, shoveling snow.
He normally sits cross-legged, waving his hand in the air but today he stands and cheers, in the white, as a snow capped mountain. His head shaved for hair may knot and strangle concentration.

Tossing frozen rain, he will not do, he’d call it, ‘meaningless labor.’
“What is it you are doing?” He broke the ice.

“Shoveling snow,” I tried to ignore him

driving the beveled blade deep into the snow. His suggestion would be; to let mother nature do this work, when ever God gets around to warming up the sun, simply let it melt away.

“Snowflake’s enemy,” he calls to me, last summer he called me ‘Yard Artist,’ when I cut the lawn.


“Why not use the portable propane flame throwing heater and melt the snow instantly?” He suggested.

“Because, I am almost out of propane!” I exclaimed, my hands wrapped firmly around the shovel’s handle releasing another load of white poop and snow butterflies.

“Melt the snow with what propane there is, then drive to acquire more.” His words stuck in my mind where he sat, like a wet tongue on a flag pole.

I stormed to the garage retrieved the portable propane heater and turned it on, it blasted a six inch flame and a four foot stream of heat in a jiffy I had melted the snow in the driveway, wondering why this method had not been thought of before.

“Is Buddha a genius?”

He belly laughed his permanent jaded smile
I was standing in an ankle deep lake of slowly freezing water, it had no way to trail off from mounds of shoveled snow as far as I can see.


“You can not manipulate the elements without creating an alternate problem. Ying Yang!” He called me.

“Do you have any skates,” He asked as the water turned into a five inch thick slate of ice, trying to turn a problem into a blessing.


“Need a jack-hammer?” He snickered.I could’ve strangled him but that would be suicide.

If acceptance is the key to tranquility
then I will never be tranquil because I have a hard time understanding why the price of propane doubled since yesterday.
If one man has liquid heat and another does not; their relationship becomes balanced by currency… when it snows!


Maybe Buddha will bless me with a hot sun tomorrow
or he will be there, enlightening me, while I shovel snow…as for now I will be, 

…breaking the ice with Buddha!

by Art~

(This poem is a ‘spin off’ of Billy Collin’s poem; Shoveling Snow with Buddha)

(morale: some times a quick fix turns into a bigger problem)

 (Allow me to state ‘I’m not a buddist, I’m a christian.’ I had fun writing this. So I hope you enjoy it!)

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