Juniper Surprise

Sometimes we see something over and over again without recognizing it. On this particular occasion, I am hiking up a mountain path near timberline and come across a slope covered in a dense mat of what looks like dwarf juniper. I know I have seen this plant before, but it somehow escaped my attention. It is called common juniper or Juniperus communis. This is an apt latin name, not in the sense it is so common, but in the sense the plants form a community of interconnected beings.

Communis translates into English as: ‘common understanding’, ‘shared’, ‘universal’, and ‘of the community’. One of the reasons I like to investigate the Latin name for plants is in the story that unfolds. A plant I overlooked for years now teaches me about community. The word sangha also means to ‘bring together into a group’ and is the general word for ‘community’ in both Pali and Sanskrit. It can also refer to a flock of crows or a herd of deer, but in Buddhism it is primarily used to describe members of a Buddhist gathering. 

I am witnessing on this mountain a sangha of juniper, a plant community united in intention. As humans, when we gather into a group with shared purpose, we develop a tribe of sorts. We choose to interrelate for mutual support, shared customs, and in the case of our Dharma Center, with a common aspiration to be of benefit to others. Of course, a community of juniper shrubs does not see themselves as gathering to do all those things. That craziness is left to humans.

Maybe instead of creating more tribal institutions we should simply acknowledge those things we have seen before without being aware of it. Our true compassionate nature is always there whether or not we recognize it—no need to build a temple. But I suppose this is the essential function of meditation; to behold a juniper surprise mirroring our interconnectedness—over and over again.