(see above story)
There was a Zen master who often gave instructions to his students.
One day, having finished a lecture, he asked if they had understood his lesson.
Only one student dared to answer his question,
"I think I understood your lesson", he said, "but I have another perhaps unrelated question. May I ask you my question?"
"Of course", the master answered, "Ask any question you would like".
"Well then, asked the student, "this is my question.
"Even as you said the Dharma may be understood may all persons"
"But if a man is deaf, and can not hear those words;
or if a man is blind, and can not read those words;
or, even further a person is both death and blind, and furthermore his or her mind may be simple, and they can not understand that
Dharma .... how then can the Dharma help such a person?"
"Well," said the Master, "When I was young in Northern China the winters were very cold."
"My family was nothing but poor farmers and we could not afford to heat or hut in Winter."
"So our family would put what little wood or coal we had into our fireplace for the night, and light a hot fire."
"Then we would all huddle under whatever warm blankets we could find and try to stay warm through the long cold night."
"Often I would wake up early in the morning, before the first light of dawn."
"How warm ir was there, huddled together under those heavy blankets, before the birds had yet begin to sing with the break of dawn, and the coming of a new day!"
Shame on you Shakyamuni for setting the precedent of leaving home.
Did you think it was not there--
in your wife's lovely face
in your baby's laughter?
Did you think you had to go elsewhere (simply) to find it?
from - Judyth Collin
The Layman's Lament
From What Book, 1998, p. 52
Edited by Gary Gach