March 2021

Tale of a Simple Wandering Monk

#WednesdayWisdom, #Buddhism

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All Buddhist monks in Thailand acquire merit by following a set of precepts for the monastic life. They can use this merit to assure a good rebirth for themselves, or to benefit other living beings. One day, imagining the possible life of a simple monk wandering on the slopes of Doi Suthep, just as the Buddha did in legendary times, I recalled this Zen parable. Two monks happened on a woman who was having trouble crossing a fast-moving river. Seeing her need, the older monk picked her up, carried her across, and set her down on the other side. After some time, the younger monk asked, “We should not touch women. Why did you pick up that one at the river?” The first monk replied, “I left her behind long ago, but you are still carrying her with you.” This parable inspired my fantastical tale of a simple wandering monk.

 

A simple wandering monk was he,

The precepts following.

He traced the paths the Buddha trod

In the valley of the Ping.

 

Each morn he traveled down a lane

Somewhere on Doi Suthep.

Not thinking of nor loss nor gain,

He walked with steady step.

 

Then one fine day he chanced upon

A very beauteous she,

Whose loveliness for him became

That day his destiny.

 

He watched and waited for a chance

To greet this lovely lass

In hopes that she with just one glance

Might bring him happiness.

 

Just then a viper in a tree

Fell onto her bare neck.

The monk reacted instantly

Its deadly strike to check.

 

“How dare you” said the beauteous she

And slapped his hand away.

The snake saw opportunity -

She died that very day.

 

“Alas, alack, it’s all my fault.

 My silly vanity

And errant thoughts have surely wrought

This sad calamity.

 

“I ate the apple, gift from Eve,

And lost the beauteous she.

The snake that did our kind deceive

Has taken her from me.”

 

Not having any kindling wood

Or match to light a fire

He did the next best thing he could -

He made a little byre,

 

Then wove a shroud of fresh green leaves

And laid her there to rest.

Oblivious to the soft, warm breeze

That blew in from the west,

 

He sat cross-legged to meditate

And ponder on events.

A thought arose, no need to wait,

This thought made perfect sense.

 

“What matter if when I return

I come as bug or snail,

Whatever lesson I’m to learn

My next life will unveil.

 

“The merit earned while on this earth

Has no more worth for me,

I’ll offer it for her rebirth

In hopes to set her free.”

 

So saying, he let go his pain,

Then went his wandering way.

And no one’s heard of him again

Except in this monk’s lay.

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