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LIFE LESSONS | WELLBEING | BUDDHISM
The one eye-opener Zen story that keeps me going
(no more water, no more moon)
As a human being of a somewhat advanced age, and one who has repeatedly relocated and started anew in life and career, I am supposed to be well-weathered, hardy, and easily responsive to change.
But here it is: I am none of the above.
Leaving still hurts. Letting go of ideas once cherished never comes easy. Looking at uncertainties and unknowns and unknowables still feels like standing in front of a huge wall and a project nonpareil.
How can I keep carrying that bucket?
Back in the thirteenth century, there was a girl called Chiyono. She was of simple means, if not illiterate altogether.
The thing she did was carry water in a bamboo pail bound with strings. Every night when the other nuns at the Engaku monastery sat in zazen, she carried her pail up the hill.
How wonderful was the reflection of the moon in the water!
