Not Zen 30: Living Quickly

A teenaged novice loved the stillness and quiet of the folks around him studying enlightenment. However, he was dismayed to find that his pace of life was considered too fast and too noisy by other students.

"Everyone frowns at the way I move," he complained. "And I talk too quickly, so they say. I seem impatient to the others. But I'm not impatient. I just like the speed I'm at. Do I have to slow down to study?"

"Enlightenment does not have a foot speed, nor a hand speed, nor even a mouth speed," replied the old teacher. He sat against the front wall of his home.

"How about a brain speed?"

"Not even that." The teacher remained sitting while the novice paced the porch floor. "True, students of enlightenment often mistrust scholarly learning. That's because such learning can be a distraction from the process. But fulfillment can be achieved by scholars. It's possible."

"Master, you are so patient with me. From what I see, you're patient with everyone. Are you enlightened?"

"Maybe." He leaned back again. "It's not a productive question. Perhaps I am just patient, not enlightened at all. Could you tell the difference?"

They watched the cicadas on a nearby tree for a while. They watched bees circle around a flower. A butterfly floated among the other insects, unafraid. The novice hardly noticed, however, because by that time he was studying the old teacher.

"I think you are enlightened," he said. "Did it change your pace of life? Would it change me?"

"The cicada and the butterfly move at different speeds." The teacher stood and brushed his robes. "If the cicada tried to slow to the speed of a butterfly, it would fall from the sky. Before enlightenment or after, you will live at your natural speed."

Not Zen 29: Being Who You Are

Three chameleons crept out of a fitweed bush. They clambered down the rocky shore on their way for a drink from the river. Before they could reach their destination, a voice cried out. A large iguana had perched on a boulder in order to speak to other iguanas along the shore and its cry echoed from shore to shore.

“Stop!” said the iguana. “Stop! Stop imitating the cats that hunt us. You are injuring yourselves. Just because you have fought off a cat does not mean you can hunt like them.”

“We are strong,” came the reply from a young iguana. “How else should we learn to act but from other animals of might?”

“Fellow iguanas, be your true selves. Eat the bushes and the insects that you have always eaten. Swim in the pools that give you prey.” The iguana noticed the three chameleons a few feet below him. “Don't be like our cousins, the chameleons. They should be green lizards like us. But they change their colors from minute to minute and look, now they are grey and brown, the color of these rocks.”

A chameleon strode closer. He had been mesmerized by the speech of the elder iguana. Now he felt ashamed to be so unreliable and weak compared to the larger lizards.

“Our cousins change so much,” the iguana continued, “they can't know who they are anymore.”

The chameleon looked at himself. His body had changed to a pebbly color without much effort. For the chameleon it was a greater effort to turn green again. In imitation of the iguanas, however, he managed it. In half a minute, he transformed himself into a smaller version of the tough, steadfast lizards.

Just then, a kestrel spied the chameleon against the brown rocks. It swooped down and picked up the unfortunate lizard in its claws. The kestrel flapped its wings once and was gone.

“Truly, the iguana was right,” said one of the remaining chameleons. All of the other animals in the area hushed.

“How can you say that?” screeched the remaining chameleon. “Our friend listened to bad advice! He changed to be like an iguana and was killed!”

“He did not understand himself. We are not green lizards.”

The other animals looked to the sky, then back to the remaining chameleons.

“'Be who you are' is fine advice. But first you must know yourself. Then you can grow and change, as all creatures must, in harmony with your nature and not in response to what someone else thinks about you.”

The old iguana nodded and clambered backwards off of its rock.

Not Zen 28: Dance

A roshi who had spent the last two years studying in the quiet of meditation halls went with his friends to a nightclub. He was led to the club's mosh pit, which sat just below the stage occupied by a noisy band. In the pit, he was surprised to find his martial arts skills useful. He wasn't dismayed by the roughness but he hadn't expected it.

"Why do you dance like this?" he shouted to the friend who had brought him. He to shout because there was no other way to be heard.

"Because life sucks," said his friend.

After dancing a while longer, the roshi asked a stranger the same question. The stranger had shaved his head bald and he wore tattoos on his face.

"Because life has no meaning," said the stranger. "Because I hurt. I drink. I hit people. It feels good."

"Everyone smiles here," observed the roshi. He remembered to raise his voice. "Even those who are upset. Their shouts are joyous."

"Yes! We share the anger. It's the only time we're happy." The strange man ran away and slammed into a crowd of other men, who shoved him back. A moment later, he returned to the roshi and said, "Hey.  You're smiling, too."

"Yes!" said the roshi. "You are a great dancer! This is a wonderful dance!"

The man smiled and spun away.

Not Zen 27: What Might Have Been

On a hot, sunny morning, a roshi and his friend sat on the edge of a park. They watched people on the street in front of the park walking from place to place in town.

"Oh, that woman!" said the roshi's friend. He pointed to a young mother with her child. "Had things worked out differently, I might have married her. What would it have been like, I wonder? Would we have a son?"

"Your longings for things that never can happen are worse than your material longings," said the roshi. "You might as well ask yourself what might have been if you'd studied Zen as a child instead of taking it up so late in life."

"What a wonderful thought! What could I have achieved? Would I now be enlightened?"

The roshi sat frowning for a while.

"If you were the teacher among us," he said. "What would you tell me to do?  What would you tell yourself?"

His friend closed his eyes in thought. When he opened them, he pointed to a nearby tree.

"Let's go sit in the shade," he said.

Not Zen 26: The Proper Measure

by Diego Delso, Wikimedia Commons

In a shallow, clear-water lagoon there lived an octopus. He rested under a cowrie shell when he was newborn. He moved into a giant clam shell when he grew older. At each dusk and dawn, he emerged to hunt for fish, crabs, crayfish, and mollusks in the sparkling, white sands.

A human spear-fisher also hunted in the wading depths of the lagoon. He learned to recognize the octopus. They came to an understanding and let each other take prey in peace. Sometimes at night the human would sit on the beach by the lagoon and talk to the octopus.

One day, the octopus felt compelled to swim out to sea.

"I must leave," he told the man. He swam close to shore and waved his body.

"You are going to coral reef, like the other big hunters," the man replied. He gestured out to sea. "You have already stayed here too long. All of the big hunters have gone there except for me."

The octopus had hardly been aware of the reef at the edge of the lagoon. Now he  turned towards it and realized that the human was right. That was his destination. It would be his new home.

"I will return to visit someday," he promised. Then he left.

When he returned a month later at dusk, he encountered the human knee-deep in the water. The man held his spear but faced the shore so he didn't notice his old friend. A loud ripple in the water was the announcement.

"Is that you, octopus?" said the man. He turned and smiled at the sight.

"It is." The octopus stretched. "But seeing my old home makes me sad.  The sands are as beautiful as I remember. The waters are so calm you can feel every minnow. I wish I lived here still. Yes, I should move back."

"You think so? Well, your giant clam shell is still here. I caught a crab under it yesterday."

The octopus hurried to the shell. It had not moved far or perhaps the man had returned it almost to its usual place. But the blue and white shell looked small. The octopus had to check it for the red edging and the pit marks that made it his, just to be sure. He tried to slip under it.

"I thought so," said the human as he approached. "You don't fit."

"Impossible," said the octopus. He tried to pull himself in tighter.

"I can still see most of you." The man crouched. "I don't have to lean down very far to see half of your body."

"How did this happen?" wailed the octopus.

"My friend, you lived in these shallows too long. This place kept you small. You did not challenge yourself. You thought you were mighty. And you are but this was never the correct measure for you. You've left only for a little while and already you're growing to your natural size."

Not Zen 25: Endless

Two women were sweeping an office building. One of them was new and she took pleasure in complaining about careless people who dropped their trash, left footprints, lost jewelry and other precious items, spilled their drinks, and more. Even on a good day, she complained about her sore back, her rough clothes, and the weather.

"This is a wonderful morning," responded the senior woman. She paused to lean on her broom. "We do a simple job and have time to think while we work. Enjoy it."

"Bah. This job is endless." The younger one did not need to pause. She had not been working for a long while. "It's like eating an elephant."

"As to it being endless, that's not so." The senior woman resumed her sweeping. "You just said so yourself. Eventually, there is an end to the elephant."

"But there is no end to this life of toil!"

The sweeper laughed. "Who told you that?  You don't have forever to learn to conduct yourself."

Not Zen 24: Big Fish

An old roshi woman was sitting by a stream, fishing. She received a visitor around noon, a girl who had problems in school.

"I don't want to be here," said the young woman.

"Then you should go." The roshi pulled her line from the stream and re-cast it.

"But I seek enlightenment. Everyone told me to come to you." The girl leaned forward hopefully. "I've read lots of books on Zen detachment. I like them."

"I see," said the roshi with a sigh. "And are you ready for enlightenment?"

"No. I'm troubled, I think. That's what everyone says. I was tortured as a child, locked in a closet."

"That's too bad. I suppose you won't become enlightened, then."

"I thought so. I've never really been successful at anything." She scowled, nearly in tears.

"I suppose you won't even try." The roshi did not seem angry or saddened. Her expression was one of acceptance.

"My parents died recently. Both of them."

"Yes, that's horrible. It's possible that you won't overcome that."

"Ma'am, maybe it's not my place to question," said the girl after a pause to consider, "but aren't you supposed to encourage me?"

"See that great fish out in the deeps of the stream?" The roshi pointed to where the brown water drifted most slowly. There was a dark silver carp near the surface. It rested in place, its fins barely moving.

"It's as long as my arm," observed the young woman.

"Yes. That is it's natural state. Imagine what you would think if you saw a fish that large floundering in the water near the shore. It would be too big for the shallows."

"I would think, what a dunce that fish is. It should dive deeper."

"But if you are afraid to try, afraid to succeed, you are like a big fish afraid to swim deep. Until you are willing to give your true effort, you will flounder. So you will not study with me. And you will not reach your potential."

"I think I understand," said the student, chastised.

"Let's see if you do," said the master.

They sat together for a long while. At first, the student seemed inclined to continue the conversation. Later, with nothing to say, she seemed content in the master's presence. After half an hour, the student stopped thinking. Her posture relaxed. The master closed her eyes. The student closed her eyes. The fish, in the center of the stream, sank deeper but barely moved its fins.

Not Zen 23: Complexity

A pair of scientists sat in their break room. One of them played with a puzzle toy.

"I enjoy these little enigmas," she said. "You'd think I'd be tired but, actually, I enjoy working to my best capacity. What is it in me that makes me seek out complex games? I like Daoism but everyone says that a busy, full life is antithetical to the Dao. I try to stay busy but I still enjoy the Dao."

"It's true that some people say a busy life goes against the Dao." Her friend peeled his orange. "But isn't the Dao itself more complex than it's usually portrayed? It's the river of life and, as one would expect, it has calmness in its currents and it has turmoil, too. It's difficult and it's simple."

"Is that supposed to be a paradox?"

"No," he replied. He tossed orange peels in the trash. "It's only supposed to sound like one. I think you've noticed an important question. Many religions deal with the need for simplicity. But not many pay attention to the attractions of complexity."

"Why is complexity attractive?" She put down her puzzle toy.

"Do you enjoy stretching your muscles?"

"I suppose I do."

"Does it feel natural?"

"Absolutely."

He reached out for the puzzle toy. "I think stretching your mind must be natural."

Not Zen 22: The River

A traveling scholar hiked along a dusty road on a hot, summer day. He drank heavily from his canteen. When he reached a bridge across a stream, he stopped. He tied his bags tighter and scrambled down the slope. In the shade beneath the bridge, he filled his canteen.

He rested for a few minutes. Then he rose and decided he had to relieve himself before going on. He hesitated when he saw a man approach the river from the opposite bank. The fellow appeared to be a farmhand dressed in ragged clothes. He descended to the water with a practiced gait that hardly disturbed a blade of grass.

The farmhand nodded acknowledgement to the traveler. Without hesitation or apology, he undid his pants and proceeded to take care of his bodily functions. The scholar smiled with relief and joined in. The two of them stood on opposite banks for a long moment.

The scholar broke the silence.

"You can't pee in the same river twice," he said, chuckling at his own cleverness.

The farmhand narrowed his eyes. He seemed to think about the point for a minute.

"Everyone pees in the same river," he replied.

Not Zen 21: Childish View

art by Luna Gale

"Why not?" said the father. He stepped over a puddle. The rain had ended but he hardly noticed the weather because he was so preoccupied. "They're my family. And they're not asking for a lot."

"Because we need the money," answered the mother. "They'll just waste it. That's the way they are. And we can't go around saving everyone. You don't make that much."

Their daughter wasn't listening to them. She had noticed the worms that had come up from the ground and covered the sidewalk.

She had been the one who'd asked to go outside, although she hadn't expected to find anything so interesting. Her father had turned from the wide, grassy path by her house onto a narrow, paved path through the park. There, she could see the earthworms that had emerged from the bracken on either side of the path.

"Yuck!" said the father as he stepped around the first cluster of worms.

The girl stopped. She let go of her mother's hand. She crouched down to touch a puddle.

"Look at how many!" she exclaimed.

"It's just rained, honey," her mother replied. "This is what happens."

"We have to save this one," she said. "It's drowning."

"Don't be ridiculous." Her mother didn't look down. She followed her husband along the path. "Why save one worm? There are thousands."

"Can we save thousands?" the girl said eagerly.

"No." Her mother turned back to give her a stern glare. "We don't have time."

"Then I want to save this worm," she asserted. Before her mother could protest, she scooped it up.

"You're worse than your father!" her mother exclaimed.

The girl set down her rescued worm in a dry spot. Then she rushed to catch up.