Tea with the Zen Master

[alphamale]

A western intellectual heard a Zen Master was visiting the U.S. The intellectual asked to meet with him, and the Zen Master invited him to tea. When the intellectual showed up, the Zen Master asked him the purpose of his visit.

"I wish to learn about Zen", said the intellectual.

The Zen Master began pouring tea in a cup. He kept pouring as it overflowed, flooded the table, and eventually onto the intellectual's pants.

"Can't you see the cup is full?" asked the intellectual.

"Yes, just as your mind is already full - therefore how could I teach you Zen? There is no more room in your mind." said the Zen Master.

The intellectual pulled out a gun and said

"When I ask you a question, I want a straight answer, not cute tricks."

BLAM!!!!

"Welcome to the west, Gooko!" said the intellectual.

[Petra]

...said the intellectual.

You appear to have misspelled *ignorant thug*

[wei yau]

How appropriate that your parable would involve someone with a hair-trigger and suffering from premature ejaculation.

The "intellectual" got an answer to his question. You couldn't get a more straightforward answer than "Yes".

Write it again, this one sucks. Your protagonist is just plain stupid.

[Ensign Steve]

What did the Zen master say to the hot dog vendor?

Can you make me one with everything?

[Petra]

LOL!

Dig it. :D

[The Lone Ranger]

One of my favorite stories goes like this.



The Master of the Tea Ceremony and the Samurai

One day, a Master of the Tea Ceremony was walking down the street when he happened to bump into a samurai. The Master apologized, but the samurai, who was proud and vain, insisted that no apology would suffice, and that he could gain satisfaction only through a duel. The Master tried again to apologize, but the samurai would not listen. He insisted that the Master should meet him at the temple in one week’s time, where they would duel. If the Master refused to show up, the samurai threatened, he would be publicly denounced as a coward and run out of town.

In desperation, the Master of the Tea Ceremony sought out a Swordmaster. The Swordmaster agreed that the samurai had behaved most dishonorably, but from a practical perspective, the Master of the Tea Ceremony could not avoid the duel. The Swordmaster agreed to instruct the master of the Tea Ceremony in swordsmanship – insofar as was possible in only a week’s time.

For six days, the Swordmaster worked with the Master of the Tea Ceremony, but in that time, the Master of the Tea Ceremony had managed to learn only how to draw and hold a katana properly, and how to make a single strike.

The Master of the Tea Ceremony was utterly distraught. “I’m going to die tomorrow, aren’t I?” the master of the Tea Ceremony asked the Swordmaster. “Yes you are,” replied the Swordmaster.


Seemingly switching topics, the Swordmaster asked the Master of the Tea Ceremony to prepare a cup of tea for him. The Master of the Tea Ceremony had devoted his life to performing the rituals of the Tea Ceremony perfectly. He calmly prepared his teapot, his cups, and his spoons. He measured the precise amount of tea leaves into the pot. He placed the pot onto the fire in precisely the proper manner. As the water heated, he prepared the mat upon which the two of them would sit. He made certain that not so much as a speck of dust marred the mat. He oriented the tea cups precisely properly. When the tea was ready, he poured it into the cups precisely correctly, so that not a single drop was spilled.

After the tea was served, the Swordmaster asked the master of the Tea Ceremony, “What were you thinking as you prepared the tea?” “I was not thinking at all,” replied the Master of the Tea Ceremony. “I was concerned only with performing my duty properly.”

“And did you feel any fear or hesitation?” asked the Swordmaster. “Of course not,” replied the Master of the Tea Ceremony. “I was focused only on my task.”


“That is what you must do tomorrow,” the Swordmaster said to the Master of the Tea Ceremony. The Master of the Tea Ceremony, being a master, understood.



The next day, the Master of the Tea Ceremony arrived at the temple, carrying a katana loaned to him by the Swordmaster. The samurai was ready and waiting, of course. He yelled at the Master and advanced a step, expecting the Master to turn and run. Instead, the Master calmly drew his katana and assumed a “ready” stance. The samurai yelled at him again and advanced another step. The Master stood calmly, his katana held in the ready stance. The samurai, surprised, raised his own katana and advanced on the Master, expecting him to run. The Master stood as still as a mountain and as calm and unruffled as a pond on a windless day, his katana held absolutely steady, poised to strike.

The samurai said, “I cannot defeat such a man,” re-sheathed his katana, bowed in sincere respect, and walked away, having learned an important lesson. The Master re-sheathed his own katana, then walked away.

[Petra]

:)


I like the story of Ikkyu breaking his master's favourite cup accidentally and how he handled the situation:

As a young monk, Ikkyu got himself in trouble one day when he accidentally dropped his master's tea cup, breaking it into many pieces.

This was serious, because the tea cup was the master's favorite. It was a rare treasure, beautifully crafted from precious material. Of all of the master's possessions, it was probably the one thing he cherished the most - and now it was hopelessly smashed!

Ikkyu felt guilty, but before he could formulate a plan to get away, he heard footsteps approaching. He swept the broken pieces together and, blocking them from view with his body, turned to face the door just as the master entered.

When they were within speaking distance, Ikkyu asked: "Master, why must people die?"

The master replied: "It is perfectly natural. Everything in the world experiences both life and death."

"Everything?"

"Everything."

"So it is not something we should feel upset about?"

"Definitely not."

At that point, the crafty Ikkyu moved aside to present the broken pieces. "Master... your cup has experienced its inevitable death..."


:D


(That story just made me feel better. As did yours, Michael. Thanks. :) )

[Adora]

What did the Zen master say to the hot dog vendor?
The yellow duck flies through the mountain in the 4th month of spring.

[Carnivale Ed]

What's a non-sequitur?

[Ensign Steve]

How many surrealists does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
Fish

[The Lone Ranger]

In case anyone’s curious, I thought I’d take the time to explain the point of the above story regarding the samurai and the Master of the Tea Ceremony. It helps if you’ve had a bit of exposure to Japanese philosophy, but I think the overall message is a very good one, and applicable to life in general.



The first thing to keep in mind is that a “Master” is someone who understands that the point of mastering a discipline isn’t so much in order to learn the skills in question – however useful or important they may be – but to learn self-discipline, so that one may master oneself. That’s why masters of karate or kendo or other such disciplines are always going on about how the only person you ever have to “defeat” (that is, “master”) in a contest is yourself.

Whether the discipline is swordsmanship, or the Tea Ceremony, or dancing, or whatever, a Master understands that – ultimately – the true goal is mastery of oneself, so that one may reshape oneself into a better person. The discipline is only the means to that end.

That’s why it’s typically considered so important in Japanese society to do things properly. The whole point is that you should always strive to do things – even seemingly trivial things, like pouring a cup of tea – properly, because in learning the discipline to pour a cup of tea properly, or to wield a sword properly, or whatever, you learn the discipline necessary to reform and reshape yourself.



A Master performs with quiet self-assurance, because he knows he has mastered the discipline – and thus, himself. This self-assurance is the farthest thing in the world from arrogance, because the Master has earned it through hard work. That self-assurance applies to everything else in life, so the true Master can be recognized by his calm self-assurance.

I once had the privilege of sparring with an 85-year-old kendo master, who told me that his goal in life was to someday make a perfect men strike. Though I’ll probably never be a master, I understood what he meant immediately. A Master understands that perfection is an impossible goal, but that it’s nonetheless important to try for perfection in whatever it is that one does. In this way, one never stops striving for self-improvement. Because a Master understands that, for all his skill, he could always do better, he is humble. Therefore, in addition to his calm self-assurance, a true Master can be recognized by his humility and lack of pretensions.



The samurai in the story was very-clearly not a Master, however skilled he may have been with the sword. No Master could possibly be so arrogant and so disrespectful to another who meant him neither offense nor harm.



What the Swordmaster reminded the Tea Ceremony Master of was that he had a choice in the matter. Just as he had chosen to lead a good life, so he could choose to die well. Once the Master of the Tea Ceremony realized this, he was at peace. Being a Master, the Master of the Tea Ceremony understood the importance of doing things properly, and so he understood that it was just as important to die well as it was to live well.


That is why the Master of the Tea Ceremony felt no fear when he faced the samurai. He knew that he could not hope to best the samurai in a contest of skills, but he understood the importance of facing death with dignity and courage. And so he felt no fear.


The samurai, seeing the Master face him with such courage and dignity – even though they both knew the Master could not hope to match the samurai’s skill with a sword – realized that one need not be a warrior to have courage and honor. And so the samurai learned an important lesson in humility, and he learned respect for others who did not necessarily share his beliefs.

Because he could not frighten the Master, the samurai could not break his spirit, and so could not defeat him. All the samurai could hope to do was kill him. But to kill a man who faced him with such courage and honor, and had never meant him harm or disrespect – yet could not hope to best him in swordsmanship – would have been the most dishonorable thing imaginable, the samurai realized. Instead of winning glory, the samurai would have earned only the contempt and scorn of all who knew of what he had done.

So, the samurai sheathed his sword, bowed to show his genuine respect for the courage and honor the Master had shown, and left to contemplate his new-found revelations.


Cheers,

Michael

[fragment]

Thanks, Michael. I enjoyed reading your analysis as much as I enjoyed the story.

[Ensign Steve]

That’s why it’s typically considered so important in Japanese society to do things properly. The whole point is that you should always strive to do things – even seemingly trivial things, like pouring a cup of tea – properly, because in learning the discipline to pour a cup of tea properly, or to wield a sword properly, or whatever, you learn the discipline necessary to reform and reshape yourself.

This is one of the reasons I enjoy Color Guard so much. I love the protocol and the discipline of every movement, every action, every position. The average viewer of any ceremony probably would have no idea whether I should have the rifle tip at eye level or nose level, but I know, and that is what is important.


Because he could not frighten the Master, the samurai could not break his spirit, and so could not defeat him. All the samurai could hope to do was kill him.
ST Deep Space Nine totally ripped off your story. Worf is in a prison and he is force to fight with the Jem Hadar soldiers. He is in the final battle with the strongest Jem Hadar, and he is absolutely outmatched. He has no hope of winning, especially considering that he is underfed and has already had to fight half a dozen other soldiers. Every time he is knocked to the ground, Bashir and Garak encourage him to stay down and forfeit the fight. But he continues to stand up and continue fighting, as weak as he is.

The Jem Hadar soldier eventually forfeits and says, "I cannot defeat him. I can only kill him."