
I recently shared the story of the Buddhist Monk and the samurai who wished to learn the difference between heaven and hell.
The samurai doesn't just 'ask' for this lesson; he demands that the monk teach him under the threat of death.
What depth and wisdom is needed for a person to respond to a demand and a threat with equanimity and full compassion? It's such a simple little story, really, that it can slip right by without much notice. Until you let it sit quietly, like the monk at his tea, and you allow yourself to feel the gift of it. For this is the lesson the samurai receives - his reaction to the monk's behavior causes him to feel first humiliation, anger, boiling rage, a desire to end the life of the monk with violence - the very experience of hell.
What power of faith is needed for the monk to believe that his quiet words would find their way through the furious, chaotic mind of the samurai at that moment? "That is Hell."
For here, now, is where the course of the story flows without effort - like Taoist philosophy. The effect of the awareness takes over the story. The samurai sees the depth of sacrifice this monk willingly made in order to give him what he so ruthlessly demanded. The samurai wanted definitions; the monk gave him understanding.
"That is Heaven."
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