A Zen Story
Paradox — or the appearance of paradox — seems to be at the heart of a lot
of Zen Buddhist stories, which also often take the form of a short conversation
between two monks — though it could be any two of us.
For example, here’s a story about a conversation in which two men get off
to a bad start, and emerge realizing not conflict but the simple (and elusive)
fact of being. (I have adapted it from a more complex traditional account in
the literature of Zen Buddhism.)
The two monks both forgot themselves and knew themselves. They came to life
in the midst of death. How can that be? How can we reconcile those apparent
contradictions?
Let’s imagine two people meeting — rounding the same corner on the
same narrow mountain trail, rock wall on one side, an abyss on the other.
They are walking in opposite directions. So they literally bump into each other.
At first, let’s say, they’re surprised, and then angry. They both want
the other to get out of the way. But under the circumstances,
that’s not practical.
“Where have you come from?” one asks, not politely.
“From India,” the other one replied, “I assume you haven’t been there.”
“If I had, I’d be there,” said the other, testily and enigmatically.
“Tell me something more interesting.”
“You wouldn’t get it if I did tell you,” his partner replied.
That’s a turning point. Mysterious, maybe unlikely, but a
turning nonetheless.
They might have come to blows, but both realized that might well
lead to a fatal fall. So instead, something begins
to change between the two. Instead of taking the bait, the partner
found himself saying,
“Maybe I’d get half of it, and you’d have the other half,
so together we’d have the whole.”
That seemed intriguing. They began to see each other, and so they were silent,
in contemplation. Authenticity was dawning, and authenticity takes time and
quiet to emerge.
So no more words for a while.
After a while one said, “If we said it, no one will get it.” The implication perhaps
being, not even us.
That led to more silent contemplation.
Finally, the other one answered, “It’s not that they
won’t get it, but no one can say it.” There are no descriptive
words, theirs or anybody else’s.
With that, the first monk
reached out and touched the second gently
on the side of his head,
In that moment both experienced a similar shiver of simply being — in their bodies, minds and hearts..
Each went on his way with livelier step,
less self-conscious,
more awake,
not having the slightest idea
what happened.
So let’s say it’s up to us.
What on earth happened?
Perhaps some kind of radical openness.
They might have called it nirvana,
But that word is just a placemarker
in the book of life. It means nothing
apart from the experience it does not
describe.
So let's ask ourselves, for a start
Is there anything — in our experience, our life,
of which their experience reminds us? Perhaps
a small everyday thing.
I have a hunch we’re not going to
figure it out.
Meditation may help, or prayer.
And we need each other.