A new and ambitious young student entered into the monastery of a great Zen master. After a few days of learning from this great master of Zen, the young student went in front of the other young monks and asked the master, "How long would it take me to become a master as great as you?" The Zen master thought about it for awhile and then replied, "Twenty years." This frustrated the young monk, so he asked again, "If I study every day for fifteen hours and without much sleep, how long then?" The master pondered a while longer and said, 'Thirty years." Angered, the young student retorted, "What if I studied harder than all the other monks combined and sacrificed all my interests to show my devotion, how long then?" The great Zen master thought for a long while searching for the answer. After taking a sip of tea, he gently replied, "Forty years." This was too much for the young monk to comprehend. He stormed out of the monastery never to be seen again.
adapted from Garripoli, G. (1999).
A Zen student was studying archery. After every practice session, the master would say, "What you are doing is good, but not enough." Over time the student became an expert archer, hitting the target with every arrow, still the master would say, "You are doing well, but it is not enough." In frustration the student responded, "With 100% perfect aim, what is your expectation? How can I do better?" The Zen master replied, "I am not concerned with your archery, I am concerned with you. Your aim is perfect, but you are unaware of yourself. Your arrows are well aimed, but your consciousness is not. The outer target is hit while the inner target is missed. Finally, the student decided to leave as he saw no possibility in satisfying the master. The day he was leaving, he went to say farewell to the master. He found the master showing another student how to take aim at the target. This was the first time the student was not involved in the learning process. He sat watching waiting to give his regards to the master. As he watched he became aware of the master and his double-arrowed awareness. For the first time in his three years of studying archery, the student was no longer concerned with his own effort, but rather was aware of what the master was doing. Spontaneously, the student picked up a bow, aimed at the target, and released the arrow. The master watched as the arrow hit the target and exclaimed, "Okay! For the first time you have centered yourself, you have aimed yourself as well as the arrow. You have achieved double-arrowed awareness."
- adapted from: Osho, (2001).
One day a Zen master and his student were walking through a village on their way back to their monastery. As they walked through the village people would ask the master, "How do we overcome anger, or how do we overcome our greed, or how do we overcome our obsession with sex or food?" The master's answers were always the same: "Be aware. Bring awareness to your life." The Zen student noticed that no matter what the issue, the solution of the master was always the same. This confused the young student. So, he asked the master, "Why is it that you always give people the same response to such different issues?" The master responded, "Their issues are different just as people dream different dreams. If a thousand people fall asleep, they dream a thousand different dreams. If one of them asks me how to get rid of this dream, the solution is the same: Wake up!" The master continued, "The issues for people are different, but their problem is the same, they are unaware. Therefore, the solution is awareness through observation. This is the key to change"
- adapted from: Osho, (2001).
Several young Zen students were sit beside the bedside of their dying master. The old master, with his last breath, tells them that there is a huge treasure buried in the monastery gardens. The young students crowd around him asking, "Where, where?" but it is too late. The day after the master's funeral and for many days to come, the young students go out with their hoes and shovels and turn the soil, digging deeply into the ground from one end of each garden to the other. They find nothing and, bitterly disappointed, they abandon the search. The next season the gardens produce the best harvest ever.
adapted from Zander & Zander. (2000).
Once there was a Zen student who was with his master for many years. When the master felt he was going to die, he wanted to make even his death a lesson. One moonless night, the master took a torch, and with his student set off through the forest. Soon they reached the middle of the woods where the master extinguished the torch without explanation. "What's the matter?" asked the student. "This torch has gone out," the master replied and walked on. "But," shouted the student, his voice filled with fear, "will you leave me here in the dark?" "No! I will not leave you in the dark," returned the master's voice from the surrounding blackness. "I will leave you searching for the light." - adapted from Jacob the Baker by Noah Benshea.
Once a Zen master had a young follower, and the young man's father hated the fact that his son was wasting his time following this guru. The more the man thought of it, the more enraged he became, until finally he went to the Zen master and began to yell and scream at him, telling the guru how terrible and wicked he was and calling him every foul thing. The man went on for a very long time, but the Zen master just sat very quietly not saying anything. Finally the man became quiet and the Zen master asked him, "Have you finished?" And the man replied, "Yes." Then the Zen master said, "Well then, I would like to ask you only one question." The man said okay. Then the Zen master asked, "What happens to the food when you prepare a feast for someone and he doesn't show up?" The man thought for a moment and replied, "Well, you wind up eating the food yourself." Then the Zen master said, "You have just prepared a feast for me, and I don't intend to eat it."
- adapted from: Ray, M. & Myers, R. (1989).
A professor once visited a Zen master, asking many questions about enlightenment and the meaning of life. While the professor went on and on in his intellectual, scattered, convoluted and pedantic way, the Zen master made and served tea. He filled the professor's cup, and tranquilly continued to pour. The professor finally noticed the overflow. "Stop!" he cried, alarmed. "The cup is full! There's no room for more!" "Exactly," said the Zen master, putting down the pot. "Just like this cup, you are so full of your own views and opinions that there is no room for new understanding."
- adapted from: Ray, M. & Myers, R. (1989).
A Zen master and his student were journeying from a distant village back to their monastery when they came to a river crossing where a young woman was in the need of assistance in crossing the river. The Zen master picked the woman up and carried her across the river. He and the student were then on their way. For several hours the student was struggling with what had happened at the river. Finally, he asked his master, "How could you carry that young woman across the river when it is against our rules to touch a woman?" The master thought for a moment and then replied, "I carried her across the river then let her go, but you, my student, have carried her with you all day."
A young Zen student was unexpectedly taken seriously ill. After several days he realized that he would not survive his illness. Lying on his deathbed, he requested that his chopsticks be brought to him. Upon hearing this request, his master came to his room and stood staring at him not knowing what to say. "My request surprises you, doesn't it?" the student asked. "Yes, I'm puzzled by your request, replied the master. The young student explained. "My grandmother once told me that in all her years of sharing meals with others, she remembered that when the bowls of the main course were being cleared, someone would inevitably lean over and say, 'Keep your chopsticks.' It was her favorite part because she knew that something better was coming, like rice pudding or sweet fruits. Something wonderful! Holding my chopsticks reminds me that 'the best is yet to come.'" The master's eyes welled up with tears of joy as he hugged his young student good-bye. He knew this would be the last time he would see the student before his death. He also knew that the young student grasped the meaning of death as well as life. - adapted from Food for Thought, Washingtonmo.com
A young Zen monk goes to see his master. "Master," he asks, "you told us a story ‚ something to do with praise?" The master responds, "Yes, it is thus: when you get some good news, you can thank Lord Buddha, and when you get some bad news, you can praise Lord Buddha." "Of course," replies the young monk, "I should have remembered. But master, how do you actually know which is the good news and which is the bad news?" The master smiles, "You are wise, young one. So just to be on the safe side, always thank Lord Buddha."
- adapted from Zander & Zander. (2000).
A troubled young disciple of a Zen master asked him for help in living a more satisfying and balanced life. When the disciple agreed to follow any advice the master gave, the Zen master replied, "Very well, but I'm afraid it may be too difficult for you. It is this: Whatever you do you must enjoy, or you may not do it. No matter what it is, if you find that you are not enjoying it, you must stop right at that moment. It doesn't matter if you are eating, or bathing, or doing your work, or doing anything else. If you are not enjoying it, you may not do it. It is up to you to find a way to enjoy anything and everything that you do. Do you understand?" For a moment the young disciple's eyes were wide, incredulous, then they narrowed and his brow wrinkled in annoyance and disbelief. "That's impossible!" he exclaimed. "No one can enjoy everything, besides, there are few things that are enjoyable. You are just trying to trick me or having a joke!" The Zen master smiled. "I was afraid it would be too difficult for you, and now you see what I mean. Nevertheless, I know of nothing else that would be of help to you. You must go away now. See if you can do it for a year and then come back." A year later the young disciple returned. His face was open and glowing. "Good," said the Zen master. "Now that you love the world, perhaps you can be of some use to it."
- adapted from: Ray, M. & Myers, R. (1989).
A Zen monk, being chased by a bear runs off a cliff. As he is falling, he grabs a branch. He looks up and sees the bear leaning over the cliff, clawing at his head and missing only by inches. As the monk looks down to the ground, about fifteen feet below him, he sees a lion leaping up, missing his feet only by inches. As he looks at the branch he is clutching, he sees two groundhogs gnawing away at it. He watches as his lifeline disappears, bite by bite. As the monk takes a long, deep breath, he notices, next to his branch, a clump of wild strawberries. In the middle of the clump is a great, red, juicy strawberry. With his one free hand, the Zen monk reaches over, picks the strawberry, puts it in his mouth, chews it slowly and says, "Ah ... delicious." - adapted from The Learner Within, Changing Perspective.
Everyday an old Zen master left his monastery to work among the poor of a local village. He helped repair collapsing homes, mended fences, tended the sick, worked in gardens and consoled the worried, all with next to nothing for resources or pay. His work was endless, each day presented the same problems and life conditions for the villagers never seemed to get better. On arriving back at the monastery each evening hungry, tired and frustrated, the Zen master paused briefly at a small tree, touching tips of the branches with both hands. Then entering the monastery, he underwent an amazing transformation. His tanned face wreathed in smiles, he greeted the other monks with laughter and joy. Never did he complain about the futility of his work. Upon observing this for several days in a row, the curiosity of a young monk new to the monastery got the better of him. So, he asked the master about what he had seen him do. That is my trouble tree," the master replied. "I know I can't help having troubles given the work that I do in the village, but one thing's for sure, troubles don't belong in the monastery. So, I just hang them up on the tree every evening when I return. Then in the morning I pick them up again. "Strangely enough," smiled the Zen master, "when I come out in the morning to pick them up, there aren't nearly as many as I remember hanging up the evening before." - original source unknown
A young student of Zen approached the Zen master in his zendo, bowed and reverently asked, "Master, what is Zen?" The master replied, "Zen is eating when you eat, working when you work, and resting when you rest." The student was astonished. "But master, that is so simple!" "Yes," said the master. "But so few people seem to be able to do it."
- adapted from: Ray, M. & Myers, R. (1989).
One morning as a Zen master was giving his daily discourse, a young student was continuously wiggling his big toe. The master stopped speaking and looked at the student's toe. When he did this, the student quickly stopped wiggling his toe. Shortly after the master began speaking again, the student once again started wiggling his toe. Noticing this the Zen master stopped speaking again and asked, "Why are you wiggling your toe?" The student thought for a moment, then said, "Only when you stopped talking and looked at my toe did I become aware of what I was doing; otherwise I wasn't at all conscious as to what I was doing." The Zen master replied, "This is your toe and you are not aware of it. What does this say about what goes on in your mind?"
- adapted from: Osho, (2001).
A Zen student studied under his master in a mountain temple for more than 20 years, and though he was one of the brightest and more determined, he had yet to reach enlightenment. He struggled for many years until one morning, the sight of a falling cherry blossom spoke to his heart. "I can no longer fight my destiny," he reflected. "Like the cherry blossom, I must gracefully resign myself to my lot." Thus, he decided to retreat down the mountain, giving up his hope of enlightenment. So, he sought out his master to tell him of his decision. Upon doing so, the master replied, "Tomorrow I will join you on your journey down the mountain." The next morning, before their descent, the master looked out into the vastness of the surrounding the mountain peak and asked, "What do you see?" The disciple answered, "I see the sun beginning to rise, meandering hills and mountains that go on for miles, and in the valley below, a lake and a small village." The master listened, smiled and they began their journey down the mountain. They traveled for hours until they neared the foot of the mountain. Again the Zen master asked his disciple to tell him what he saw. "Master, in the distance I see roosters as they run around barns, cows asleep in meadows, old ones basking in the late afternoon sun, and children romping by a brook," replied the student. The master remained silent as they continued to walk until they reached the gate of the village. There the master gestured to his companion that they sit under an old tree. "What did you learn today my student?" The student sat in silence. At long last the master continued. "The road to enlightenment is like our journey down the mountain. It comes only to those who realize that what one sees at the top of the mountain is not what one sees at the bottom. Without this wisdom, we close our minds to all that we cannot view from our position and so limit our capacity to learn and improve. But with this wisdom, there comes awakening. We recognize that alone one sees only so much, which is not much at all. This is the wisdom that opens our minds to improvement, knocks down prejudices, and teaches us to respect what at first we cannot see. Always remember this: what you cannot see can be seen from a different part of the mountain." - adapted from Harvard Business Review, July-August 1992.
May the FORCE be with you!
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