Post by Brandybuck on Aug 15, 2006 14:20:11 GMT -5
*I found the following story very funny as well as a learning experience. I hope that you enjoy it like I did. 
*
This tale concerns a rather mischevious as well as clever boy who lived in a Zen temple in 15th century Japan. One day the young monk was entrusted with cleaning all of the ritual items on the temple altar in preparation for a special service to be held that night. According to his master's teachings, everything is the Buddha. Whether beings or objects are sentient or insentient, animate or not, the monks were to do their best to honor the Buddhas before them by giving them the care and respect deserved. Even if the monks could not yet see the Buddha in all things, they were still to consider that the Buddha was there, right before their eyes. And so, before sitting down to begin meditation, they would place their hands together and bow to their meditation cushion as a way of acknowledging the presence of the future Buddha who would be sitting there in a moment's time. In this way they were expressing the conviction that even within themselves, the Buddha was present though not yet seen.
Since he was a spirited boy who had created mischief at the temple from time to time--which caused him to be reprimanded by his teacher--the young monk was grateful to be given his first opportunity to clean the altar. He worked meticulously and remembered to approach each thing he touched as the Buddha itself. With great care, he removed dust from the altar's surface, wiped the candleholders, prepared the incense burner, and placed new sprigs of flowers and some greenery in the water of the vase. But despite the care and concentration he brought to his task, his hand accidentally brushed against a much-beloved teacup his master had placed on the altar for some special use. To his shock, and with a feeling of utter helplessness, he watched as the antique cup fell to the floor and shattered at his feet. To make matters worse, at that moment he heard the distinctive step of the Zen master approaching the doors of the mediatation hall.
Quickly, the boy knelt before the altar and gathered up the pieces of the cup. Then, as the large door at the other end of the hall began to slide open, he placed the broken cup behind his back and gripped it tightly in his hands. His teacher stepped inside, bowed toward the altar, and then approached the boy to ask how things were going. In particular, he wanted to see if he had remembered to set out some special incense for the evening services. But before he could say a word the young monk asked him:
"Master, why do people have to die?"
The master looked at him with pleasure and surprise. It seemed that the boy was finally leaving behind the wasteful wanderings of his mind and beginning to wonder about the nature of reality. After all, hadn't the teacher taught again and again that the true subject of Zen is the Great Matter of Life and Death? Hoping to encourage the boy in his new direction, he answered his question in a very warm and kind manner.
"Everything has to die. Each thing has its time. Trees, grasses, flowers, all of the animals you see on the temple grounds. Someday I will die, and even you, at the right time, will meet your death."
Hearing this, the boy looked up at the master and slowly brought his hands from behind his back to where the teacher could see the pieces of his beloved but broken cup. Then he said to his teacher:
"Master, it was time for your cup to die."
***Ikkyu, the name of the boy in the story above, lived from 1394-1481. It appears that as his life progressed, he must have taken the Great Matter seriously, though he was known for his unconventional behavior and approaches to Zen. Crazy-Cloud Man was the name he gave himself. In time he not only became a Zen master of far-reaching reputation, but a much loved poet as well.***
*This tale concerns a rather mischevious as well as clever boy who lived in a Zen temple in 15th century Japan. One day the young monk was entrusted with cleaning all of the ritual items on the temple altar in preparation for a special service to be held that night. According to his master's teachings, everything is the Buddha. Whether beings or objects are sentient or insentient, animate or not, the monks were to do their best to honor the Buddhas before them by giving them the care and respect deserved. Even if the monks could not yet see the Buddha in all things, they were still to consider that the Buddha was there, right before their eyes. And so, before sitting down to begin meditation, they would place their hands together and bow to their meditation cushion as a way of acknowledging the presence of the future Buddha who would be sitting there in a moment's time. In this way they were expressing the conviction that even within themselves, the Buddha was present though not yet seen.
Since he was a spirited boy who had created mischief at the temple from time to time--which caused him to be reprimanded by his teacher--the young monk was grateful to be given his first opportunity to clean the altar. He worked meticulously and remembered to approach each thing he touched as the Buddha itself. With great care, he removed dust from the altar's surface, wiped the candleholders, prepared the incense burner, and placed new sprigs of flowers and some greenery in the water of the vase. But despite the care and concentration he brought to his task, his hand accidentally brushed against a much-beloved teacup his master had placed on the altar for some special use. To his shock, and with a feeling of utter helplessness, he watched as the antique cup fell to the floor and shattered at his feet. To make matters worse, at that moment he heard the distinctive step of the Zen master approaching the doors of the mediatation hall.
Quickly, the boy knelt before the altar and gathered up the pieces of the cup. Then, as the large door at the other end of the hall began to slide open, he placed the broken cup behind his back and gripped it tightly in his hands. His teacher stepped inside, bowed toward the altar, and then approached the boy to ask how things were going. In particular, he wanted to see if he had remembered to set out some special incense for the evening services. But before he could say a word the young monk asked him:
"Master, why do people have to die?"
The master looked at him with pleasure and surprise. It seemed that the boy was finally leaving behind the wasteful wanderings of his mind and beginning to wonder about the nature of reality. After all, hadn't the teacher taught again and again that the true subject of Zen is the Great Matter of Life and Death? Hoping to encourage the boy in his new direction, he answered his question in a very warm and kind manner.
"Everything has to die. Each thing has its time. Trees, grasses, flowers, all of the animals you see on the temple grounds. Someday I will die, and even you, at the right time, will meet your death."
Hearing this, the boy looked up at the master and slowly brought his hands from behind his back to where the teacher could see the pieces of his beloved but broken cup. Then he said to his teacher:
"Master, it was time for your cup to die."
***Ikkyu, the name of the boy in the story above, lived from 1394-1481. It appears that as his life progressed, he must have taken the Great Matter seriously, though he was known for his unconventional behavior and approaches to Zen. Crazy-Cloud Man was the name he gave himself. In time he not only became a Zen master of far-reaching reputation, but a much loved poet as well.***
