No portraits or sculptures existed of the Buddha. After he died, a great longing arose to know what he had looked like. Anybody who was ancient enough to have met him was sure of an attentive audience.

Just such a person was a nun, now over 100 years old. To procure some solitude, she had moved out of the town into a little Hermitage, but anyone wishing to enquire would soon come to hear of her. One day a sincere seeker, a highly attained Elder monk, sent a message to her requesting a meeting. She agreed, but having her own ways of assessing her visitors, set up a large jar with water by the side of the rope curtain that functioned as the front door. The visitor arrived, pulled aside the curtain, striding in, accidentally kicked over the jar. The nun scolded, "There goes the greatly attained one, so exulted that he can't even keep from messing up this poor abode." To the credit of the Elder, who in rank certainly was well above the venerable nun, he apologised and then entreated her to tell him about the Buddha.

The nun, well aware of this, now assured him, "In spite of your carelessness, you deserve hearing the story and will profit by it. You see, my parents were devout followers of the Lord Buddha, and when he once again came to our neighbourhood to preach, they went there and took me with them. I was a flighty teenager not a bit interested in his teachings, but was content enough to come along all dressed up in my Sunday finery and pleased with my appearance.

A huge crowd had assembled and sat respectfully facing the Buddha. I hardly listened and soon got bored, but not daring to fidget, I began to play with my ornaments. Suddenly my hairpin, a family heirloom, worked loose and slithered Down into the long grass out of sight. I was horror-struck; not daring to make a commotion, I surreptitiously searched as far as my hands could reach but, however I tried, the pin had vanished. I was in despair-what was I to do?

Suddenly I was aware of a radiance and looking up beheld the Buddha’s eyes upon me, from between his eyes a ray shone directly in front of me and in its light I caught the sparkle of my pin in the long grass. With a sob I retrieved it and my heart turned. The World Honoured One himself preaching to such a large audience, had perceived the plight of an inattentive girl, fidgeting about, and yet had taken pity on her plight and compassionately helped her out of it. At that moment I knew that all I wanted was to devote myself to him and his teaching, and have done so ever since"

The old nun smiled at the Elder and added, "You see, if even the World Honoured One was not above beholding a flighty girl’s commotion about a lost hairpin and extended his kindness to help her you might also exercise the same and not kick over my water jar again. So when you leave, step carefully, if you please.”

(Look and See: Buddhist Teaching Stories with Commentaries by the Venerable Myokyo-ni)