Photo by Kathleen Franklin

The disciples wanted to know the different stages the master had to go through in his quest for enlightenment.

The master said, “Well, in the beginning, I was full of action. I thought enlightenment lay in doing kind and worthy deeds. Then I went through suffering and pain, and I stayed there until I could control my heart and stay unattached to anything. I learned to love, and my passion consumed my very core, burning away the self and all its petty desires. Then, I learned to be silent. In silence, I contemplated the mysteries of life and death and they gave up their secrets to me.”

The master paused to sip some tea.

“But finally,” he continued, “I learned the most precious secret of all.”

“And what is that?” asked the disciples.

“I learned to laugh,” replied the master as he howled with glee.

Photo by ganap0627

Tetsugen was a zen master who lived in 17th century Japan.  He wanted to produce a Japanese edition of the buddhist sutras (scriptures) which were then only available in Chinese. This was to be an expensive project because it involved making around 60,000 wooden blocks for printing.

Tetsugen wandered around Japan collecting funds for this project. Sometimes he would meet wealthy people who would offer gold and silver, but mostly he would encounter peasants who could only afford a few small coins.

After 10 years of traveling, he had collected enough funds to start his project. But there was a great flood as the river Uji overflowed. People were left homeless and starving. Tetsugen used all the money he collected to help them.

Then he began traveling and collecting money again for his project. It was several more years before he thought he had enough. Just then, an epidemic spread throughout Japan and Tetsugen once more gave away all that he had collected to aid the afflicted ones.

Then he started traveling again. Twenty years later (and one year before he died), he was able to fulfill his dream of printing the sutras in Japanese. The original printing blocks he used are preserved today in the Obaku Monastery in Kyoto, Japan.

The Japanese like to tell their children that Tetsugen actually produced three editions of the sutras, but the first two are invisible and far superior to the last.

Books - Photo by Lin Pernille Kristensen

An elderly monk became famous in his town because of the appropriate and wise advice he would give to those who sought his counsel. Even the other monks and the head monk himself would go to him for advice on many matters. They always marveled at his words and the ease with which he seemingly plucked them from the air.

The words would always hit their mark. If someone needed inspiration, he would find it. If another needed brutal frankness, she would get it as well.

The elderly monk got seriously ill one day and the other monks were concerned. What would happen when this holy man was gone? Where would they turn to for advice and counsel? The sick monk inadvertently heard their whispered fears and immediately understood their concern. He called them and said, “I shall record all the wisdom that you need in a book so that when I pass away, you will have something to guide you. But you have to promise to only open it when I am gone. Now, hurry and bring me pen and paper.”

The other monks gave him a thick notebook and a pen so he could spend his waking hours writing and recording his wisdom. For the next few days, the monks who visited would see him sitting up in bed with the notebook open, and they would not stay overly long for fear of disturbing him from his work.

Three weeks after, on a fine Sunday morning, they found him sleeping peacefully in bed, his hands folded over the notebook in his chest. They understood with great sadness that this was the sleep from which no one wakes. The head monk came and reverently lifted the precious notebook from underneath the folded hands. He opened it and to his surprise, found that all the pages were blank except the last one.

And what was written there was this:

“What is in me is also in you.

You are no more than me and I no more than you.

Look within.

Search deep within.

There lies the fount of all wisdom.”

Boy eating chocolate - photo by Blerina Berisha

A mother in a small village had a little boy who absolutely loved chocolates. He would eat too much and too often that the mother feared that it would be bad for him. She approached the village elder and said, “Elder, I have a problem. My boy eats a lot of chocolate and I am afraid it will harm him. Could you please tell him to stop eating chocolate?”

The elder said, “I can help you, but give me some time. Then I will go to your house and talk to your boy.”

A day passed, then two, then three – but the elder did not come.

A week passed, then two, then three – and finally, the elder came to the house. He called the boy, looked him straight in the eye and said, “You must stop eating chocolate. It is not good for your health.” He spoke with such authority and conviction that the boy promised he would never touch chocolate again.

The mother thanked the elder, but could not help saying, “Elder, I am grateful that you came to help me. But why did it take you three weeks to come and tell my boy to stop eating chocolates?”

The elder replied, “It is very simple. Three weeks ago, I had not yet stopped eating chocolates.”

Photo by lanchongzi

The Master doesn’t try to be powerful,
thus he is truly powerful.
The ordinary man keeps reaching for power,
thus he never has enough.

The Master does nothing,
yet he leaves nothing undone.
The ordinary man is always doing things,
yet many more are left to be done.
The kind man does something,
yet something remains undone.
The just man does something,
and leaves many things to be done.
The moral man does something,
and when no one responds he rolls up his sleeves and uses force.

When the Tao is lost, there is goodness.
When goodness is lost, there is morality.
When morality is lost, there is ritual.
Ritual is the husk of true faith, the beginning of chaos.

Therefore the Master concerns himself
with the depths and not the surface,
with the fruit and not the flower.

He has no will of his own.
He dwells in reality,
and lets all illusions go.

- Tao Te Ching, verse 38, by Lao Tsu (Translated by Stephen Mitchell)

Photo by Jeremy Keith

The master heard that a doctor of theology had come to visit.

“A doctor of what? Theology?” said the master feigning amazement. “Now that sounds like a very serious disease.”

The great Japanese master, Hakuin, wrote: “If you take up one koan and investigate it unceasingly, your mind will die and your will will be destroyed. It is as though a vast, empty abyss lay before you, with no place to set your hands and feet. You face death and your bosom feels as though it were on fire. Then suddenly, you are one with the koan, and body and mind are cast off. This is known as seeing into one’s nature.”

Now, on to the koans:

1. What is the sound of one hand clapping?
2. A monk asked master Haryo, “What is the way?” Haryo replied, “An open-eyed man falling into a well.”
3. When the many are reduced to one, to what is the one reduced?
4. The roof was leaking so the master asked two disciples to bring something to catch the water. The first one brought a pail while the second brought a basket. The first was severely reprimanded, the second was highly praised.
5. What is your original face, before your father and mother were born?
6. One day, master Chao Chou stumbled and fell. He cried out, “Help me, help me!” A monk came and lay down beside him. Chao Chou got up and walked away.
7. When you can do nothing, what can you do?
8. (a modern koan) Where is the hole when the entire donut is eaten?

Peace - Photo by Ragnar Jensen

One day, the master walked past a Christian church where the preacher was denouncing Islam.

Later, he passed by an Islamic mosque where the imam was denouncing Judaism.

Still later, he passed a Jewish temple where the rabbi was denouncing Christianity.

“Ah,” sighed the master to his disciples, “If only these religious idiots would practice the love, acceptance and tolerance they all preach, there would be peace and no need of any religion.”

fish - photo by Benjamin Hollis

“The purpose of a fish trap is to catch fish, and when the fish are caught, the trap is forgotten.

The purpose of a rabbit snare is to catch rabbits. When the rabbits are caught, the snare is forgotten.

The purpose of words is to convey ideas. When the ideas are grasped, the words are forgotten.

Where can I find the man who has forgotten words? He is the one I would like to talk to.”

- Chuang Tzu

Meditation - Photo by Vaticanus

One day, the master and his disciples sat in silent meditation in the monastery.

Suddenly, a loud clatter rang through the halls as the cook’s assistant tripped and dropped a number of empty pans he was bringing to the kitchen.

The disciples were all disturbed from their meditation and expressed their irritation by muttering and frowning. But when they looked at the master, he seemed as relaxed and calm as ever.

“How could you maintain your silence and meditation amidst the noise a while ago?” asked a few disciples later.

The master replied, “You must understand, my friends, that silence is not the absence of sound. Silence is the absence of self.”