Does the birther have Buddha nature?
A kōan is a short story, saying or question that is designed to help one develop intuition. One hopes that the birther theme will be explored in the entries.
Unlike our previous contests, there is no voting or winner. The prize is enlightenment.
Learn more:
- Kōan – Wikipedia
- The Gateless Gate (collection)
- Zen Koans (collection)
The monk Korusi asked his master: “Where is the birth certificate?”
His master pondered for a while, then beat the monk on the head with a book.
When master Muruderu was told about this incident, he said: “Neither of them has Birther Nature.”
Two ronin are walking to Kyoto, hungry for food and false honor
They come across a peasant cooking rice by the road and demand to be fed
They eat and stand to leave without paying, laughing
The peasant sighs, “Like Birthers, they take that which is wholesome and good and all they can do is turn it to sh*t”
It is said that the Zen master can predict the moment of his own death.
The master Kenbo attended a lecture given by Orly Taitz who had been promised that she could speak until she finished. She spoke for over two hours.
When the crowd departed, the body of the master was found. He had been dead for over two hours.
There once was a group of people who were dismayed because a man who looked different from them was elected ruler. They called the man terrible names and disparaged the name of his mother who had died. They made fun of his birth, blamed him for the circumstances of his parentage, and said that he hated God and family and did not love others as they did. They spun their wild ideas into conspiracy theories until they could no longer tell truth from fiction. They rejected their own children and parents if they refused to agree with them.
Their foul practices came to naught, and they became even more dismayed. They simultaneously blamed God for their perceived misfortune, and cursed God for having allowed the black man to be elected even as they said that they loved God.
One day, a gentle man from the East came, and in a quiet, calm voice, encouraged the people to love their neighbors, even if they looked different. He encouraged them to tell the truth, and to set aside their poisonous ideas lest they become what they said they hated. He told them that it was fair to judge a man only by the content of his character, not the color of his skin.
The group looked up, suspicious, and noticed that the man was swarthy, and that he spoke with an accent. They distrusted the man and his motives, so they set upon him, shunning him, ridiculing his looks and his heritage. They cast him out, and returned to cursing the name of the God they said they loved.
As he took leave of the people, the gentle man smiled sadly and told them that he forgave them. They made fun of him even more. The gentle man departed, and the people never saw him again.
Eventually, the “different man” left office and another took his place. The former ruler never thought of the hateful people again and he lived out his life doing as he pleased, enjoying the company of family and friends.
Over time, the souls of the people who had hated the different looking man turned cold, and they were sad and lonely. They mourned the families and friends they had rejected. They were disturbed and bitter that their former ruler had moved on.
They found no peace.They experienced no joy. They were lonely and despondent for the rest of their days. Their bodies became stooped and their faces came to reflect the ugliness they held on in their hearts. They were different from the rest of the people.
They had finally become everything they said they hated.
The saxophone is the smallest of musical instruments. What does this mean?
Answer: Obama is a usurper.
The Pit of Quicksand
Near a Monastery of Very Wise Monks, a road forked. With heavy rains, a pit of quicksand would gather in the left fork of the road and all who unknowingly traveled upon it during those times would stumble into the pit and sink to their deaths. During the rainy season, a group of Very Foolish Pilgrims came to the fork, using a map which had been made during a dry season. According to the map, taking the Left Fork would save many days of journeying.
The Monks tried to warn the Pilgrims that they were in error, and not to take the Left Fork. But a great argument ensued. The Monks taunted the Pilgrims, and in great merriment, called them many names, all to no avail. Nothing would deter the Pilgrims from traveling down the wrong fork of the road.
Desirous of proving how wrong and foolish the Pilgrims were, the Very Wise Monks raced ahead so that they might point out the pit of quicksand to the Pilgrims, and delight in the looks upon their faces. However, in their great haste to win the argument, the Monks forgot where they were, and fell headlong into the pit themselves and died. Coming to the pit, the Very Foolish Pilgrims realized the Monks had been right all along. However, still desirous of saving time, they simply stepped across the Pit of Quicksand on the bodies of the Very Wise Monks and thus saved many days of Hard Traveling.
Submitted on behalf of my Principal, Sensei SF
The Head Researcher, as Agent.
Orly Taitz walked through the desert from Moldova to America.
As she approached America, she saw an old hermit in a cave.
She stopped and asked him: “Tell me, wise old hermit, how are the people in America and their ruler?”
The hermit replied: “Tell me, traveler, how were the people from whence you came?”
Orly Taitz spat: “Pah! they are were all crooks and liars and forgers, and their ruler was corrupt and untrustworthy. They never listened to me.”
Then the hermit said: “It is likely that you will find the same thing in America.”
The Buddha met a birther on the road, and killed him.
The courts ordered all the birther lawyers to take a refersher class in constitutional law in order to keep their licences. The final exam was a single question:
“What sound does the child of one citizen parent make?”
I love how you speak in third person of yourself squeeky
I would be more surprised if she didn’t. It must get awfully crowded in that SRO cranium.
According to the birther bigots, it isn’t white noise.
Mario Apuzzo appeared in oral arguments before the United Supreme Court. The Chief Justice asked him: Why do you believe that a natural born citizen must have citizen parents?
Apuzzo replied: Mt. Fuji
The next day the New Jersey Bar Association gave Mr. Apuzzo its annual award for: Most Improved.
The Master of Dung
The Buddha was fond of this tale,and would tell it often to his new Disciples. A Dung Hauler and his assistant were scooping horse dung from the street when the assistant slipped on a pile of dung and landed unceremoniously upon his rump in a fresh pile of steaming dung. The Dung Hauler laughed mightily, and said to his assistant, “Verily, that is why you are the assistant, and why I am the Master of Dung!”
Invariably, his Disciples would laugh, but always asked The Buddha what Great Meaning could possibly attach to this Simple Tale of Buffoonery. Whereupon, The Buddha would reply, “It is among the Greatest of Lessons, wherein one does not see the Big Picture. Beware of Ego and False Pride lest you become a Master of Dung.”
Submitted on behalf of my Principal, Sensei SFGR
The Head Researcher, as Agent.
It’s a symptom of “Narcissistic Personality Disorder” in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, 4th Edition published by the American Psychiatric Association
The King of the Monkeys
A certain village was plagued by a troop of monkeys who would sneak into the village and steal fruit and foodstuffs from the vendors. Bored with his assignment, and seeking advancement, the Captain of the Village Garrison set out with his men to capture or kill the monkeys and bring the raids to an end. While they were thus engaged, a group of bandits descended upon the village and pillaged with impunity, taking much gold, silver, and other treasures.
Later, the Captain and his men returned to the village with the leader of the Monkey Troop in a cage. Appearing before the Headman, the Captain bragged of the capture, and suggested for the morale of the village, that the monkey be displayed in the center of the village, with a sign reading “The King of the Monkeys.” The Headman agreed, and ordered that the Captain be immediately imprisoned, caged and displayed with exactly such a sign.
Submitted on behalf of my Principal, Sensei SFGR
The Head Researcher, as Agent.
The student came before the master and said, “Master, the President is a usurper. He has presented a birth certificate which makes clear who his father was, and that man was never a citizen. Therefore the President is not qualified for his position, and he should be removed, and all the laws he signed annulled, and a special election should be held to replace him.”
The master replied, “It is clear who his father was, but not clear that that means he is not qualfied, nor that the laws should be annulled, nor that there should be a special election. How can one understand that what you say is true?”
The student answered, “One understands that what I say is true, when one understand that the birth certificate is a fake.”
The master kowtowed to the student and said, “You are now the master, and I am the student.”
Jerome Corsi, at one of his book-signing appearances, was asked by Mario Apuzzo, “What is the sound of one Obama conspiracy theory collapsing?”
Corsi replied, “A needle in a haystack.”
The Five-Toed Sloth
During the Reign Of The Emperor Mongo, a Concubine, desirous of causing mischief, began a false rumor that the Emperor had six toes on each foot. At that time, such a deformity was taken to be a sign of Heavenly Disfavor, and boded ill for the Kingdom. As the rumor took hold, there was a call from rude commoners and peasants for the Emperor to appear barefooted in public, and thus dispel the rumor.
The Palace Eunuchs urged the Emperor not to comply with this simple request, because no other Emperor had ever done such a thing, nor was this required by either law or tradition. Many Eunuchs were employed to dispute the rumors, with great stridency and loud, high-pitched protestations. Many papers were circulated to calm the populace, so many in fact that never, even unto this Day, have the Outhouses of the Empire been so well stocked.
After three years, the rumor had grown so large, that the governance of the Empire suffered from the large number of Castrati engaged in defense of the Emperor. Emperor Mongo finally appeared bare-footed at the Festival of Happy Feet and the rumor began to die. Yet, because of his Great Sloth in addressing this simple rumor, Emperor Mongo was never fully trusted by the people. Thus, was it written that while words and paper may not wrap a fire, they do serve to stoke one very well.
Submitted on behalf of my Principal, Sensei SFGR
The Head Researcher, as Agent.
I think to be a more birther-like story, the people would have denied that the person who appeared and showed his feet was the actually Emperor but rather said he was an imposter.
One day the Buddha came upon himself, sitting at the side of the road. As he instructed his followers, he pulled out a gun and shot himself.
Who lay dead?
Dr. Conspiracy commented on his blog regarding the meaning of this story. He said, “The Buddha could not have come upon himself for in the very act of coming and meeting, each was transformed into what was both Buddha and no longer Buddha; none would lie dead.
In such a story of Birthers, both are already dead and can neither encounter nor change.”
One morning the acolyte Kerchner approached teacher Apuzzo and said: “Master Apuzzo, the usurper has shown his long form and many believed it. The PayPal stream has become as dry as ash. What should we do?”
Teacher Apuzzo replied: “natural born citizen.”
The master asked his disciples: “What proof is there that Emperor Obama is a usurper?”
The monk Kerutsneru stood up and said: “I have a hundred proofs, so even if 99 fail, one still remains, that is enough.”
The master replied: “If you desire enlightenment, don’t you look for the one path that leads there and not for the 99 that don’t?”
Kerutsneru then said: “You must be part of the conspiracy!”
When master Muruderu was told of this incident, he said: “Neither of them sees the path.”
The young acolyte Taitsu had just become a Zen master through an online monastery.
One of her disciples asked her: “What is the sound of a hundred birther cases failing?”
Taitsu slapped the monk and said: “Let me feeeneeesh: Subpoena!”
When master Muruderu was told of this incident, he said: “When you become what you think you fight, who do you really fight?”
The monks Birasera and Oboto met master Muruderu riding on his bicycle.
Birasera asked him: “If so much is forged, how can we know truth?”
Muruderu answered: “Knowing follows seeing, not the other way around.”
Oboto asked him: “If so many birthers are lying, how can they be after the truth?”
Muruderu answered: “Seeing follows knowing, not the other way around.”
As he continued his ride, Muruderu said to himself: “Both can understand the other, but they can never understand each other.”
Is the president a natural born citizen?
Mu.
Mumon’s comment:s To realize Zen one has to pass through the barrier of the patriachs. Enlightenment always comes after the road of thinking is blocked. If you do not pass the barrier of the patriachs or if your thinking road is not blocked, whatever you think, whatever you do, is like a tangling ghost. You may ask: What is a barrier of a patriach? Mu.
OR
Obama’s Comments: President Barack Obama says his wife and daughters aren’t “invested” in him being president and would have been fine had he decided against running for re-election.
with no attachments the atheistic aggregate of senses can slice through anything, even the karmic delusion of a constitution .
Show me Japan! Ha!
The ghosts of irony are amused.
The Ship of Village Idiots
An edict proceeded from Wuhan that all Village Idiots in the Hubei Province be gathered from each village and transported to Wuhan, there to be cared for, and perhaps taught a useful trade. A Junk was dispatched up and down the Yangtze river to collect the idiots. But at each village, there was much consternation among those who had
tormented and bedeviled the Idiots, who became greatly distressed of how they would pass their day without idiots to taunt.
The kindly junk Captain therefore permitted the taunters to travel with the idiots, to ease their travail. Upon the arrival of the ship at Wuhan, the Captain explained this to the Head Keeper of Idiots, and offered, at a price, to return the Taunters to their respective villages. The Head Keeper of Idiots replied there was no need to return them, for there was truly no difference between the two groups, except that the Taunters would require more instruction to be of use to society.
Submitted on behalf of my Principal, Sensei SFGR
The Head Researcher, as Agent.
Or that he had had an operation when he was 6 that removed the spare toes.
A man falls into what he believes is a trap. He thinks “This can’t be natural.” Then says “Help.” Passerby says “Just stand up. Pot holes are native around here. They naturally occur over the winter.”
The Man With Unclean Hands
A man told a false tale,
That beneath a large rock
Lay a great Treasure.
On the path to the rock
The Man dug a pit.
And filled it with manure.
Covering the pit with leaves
He watched and jeered
Those covered in ordure.
Who is the Most Unclean???
Whose odor Most Foul???
Who is Most Impure???
Submitted on behalf of my Principal, Sensei SFGR
The Head Researcher, as Agent
(NOTE: This Koan is about the story on WND, concerning Obotski Forgers.)
Is a koan about the null set also null?
I think to be analogous to real life, the story should have featured the Emperor wearing open toed sandals at the beginning.
The disciple asked the master: “Where is the true Inner Birther?”
The master pointed back and forth: “I’m rubber, you’re glue.”
The disciple went off, walking the city streets to meditate.
The next day, as they were jaywalking across a busy street through traffic, the master turned abruptly and yelled at the disciple, “Where is your Inner Birther!?!” The disciple, chin raised high, looked at the oncoming bus, and spat at the master: “I’m rubber, you’re glue.”
The master ducked aside unharmed, but later in the hospital, tweeted, “next disciple.”
COMMENTARY:
“The master said no. The disciple said yes. Thus, the disciple showed up the master’s elitism.”
Wow that was… incomprehensible…
“Who is the president?” the next disciple asked the master.
“Shit stick.”
“Who is the president?” the master asked the disciple.
“Oh, no you don’t. I know your tricks.”
The master, shit stick always ready in his hands, hit the disciple over the head, anyway.
COMMENTARY
“Shit sticks were ancient versions of toilet paper. But ancient or modern, we all know what to do when our country calls. The true politician wears a tuxedo and backslaps the master unscathed. The true president doesn’t give his birth certificate to teenagers tp’ing his house. The true citizen flushes, and pays taxes for the sewage plant.”
@Daniel – if that is a compliment about the rubber and glue koan (“Wow…that was incomprehensible”), thanks. Koans are supposed to be incomprehensible at a core level. If on the other hand, you confuse me with a birther spouting nonsense, based on a different ironic-filled thread elsewhere, then, take another look.
Here, if it helps (if “incomprehensible” just means bad writing), is further COMMENTARY from Constitutional Scholar Corsi-saw on that koan:
Rubber and glue, the heart of birther philosophy. When in doubt, the true birther uses kindergarten debate tactics to disarm the intellectual elite. Nevermind that such bickering leads to catastrophes as important matters are ignored, or while we play chicken with matters of state. The true inner birther must hold firm, and act like a child, no matter what any supposedly sane people are yelling from the street corner.
Embrace the bus. Only then, can you make the big bucks selling new theories no matter how beat up your old ones are. The master dismissed the disciple as a mere copycat, merely parroting his words without understanding, because the disciple failed to dance with the bus, and then the master immediately turned to the next disciple ready to buy the gospel.
Yes, that is a true master. But birther masters are nothing without committed disciples sucking up every word.
So, as the ancient unknown blog commenter pointed out: the disciple actually was the real and true birther, ready to die for childish nonsense, not run away like a trumped up pretend birther.
Yes, no; true, false. These things matter not to the true inner birther. The name-calling is all. Thus, who was true, master or disciple? If you say one, then you get hit by the bus; if you say the other, then you are a fool. Nonetheless: speak, speak!
Before studying birtherism, presidents are presidents and birth certificates are birth certificates. While studying birtherism, things get confused. After studying birtherism, presidents are presidents and birth certificates are birth certificates.
What is the difference between before and after?
No difference. Just, your blood pressure is sky high through the roof.
One day, three people came to Emperor Obama – a birther monk, a court jester and master Muruderu.
Emperor Obama said: “Rule 1: You may each ask me one question and I will truthfully answer it. Rule 2: You may each give me one order and I will be held to it, even if it conflicts with rule 1. Who wants to speak first?”
The birther monk jumped forward and yelled: “Where is your birth certificate?” Emperor Obama replied “I don’t have one”. The birther monk smiled triumphantly and said: “Go ahead, jester, I don’t need the order anymore.”
The court jester thought for a while, then he said: “Emperor Obama, go back in time and answer the birther monk’s question untruthfully.” The Emperor said: “It is done.”
The court jester said: “Go ahead, master Muruderu, I don’t need the question anymore.”
The birther monk, realizing he had been punked, grinded his teeth in anger.
Muruderu said: “No question I could ask would reveal more truth, and no order I could give would make anyone look more the fool.” Then he turned around and left.
When Muruderu’s student Korustina was told about this incident, she said: “I am not sure who the biggest fool was – the court jester for believing time travel is possible, the birther monk for believing Emperor Obama is a usurper, Emperor Obama for even entertaining the birther monk or master Muruderu for stating the obvious”.
What The Thunder Said
Once, in Wuhan, during the Season of Festivals, an Itinerant Peddler of Fireworks was careless, and started a cooking fire in his tent. A spark caused a great ignition of his wares. The stalls of many nearby merchants were destroyed. A group of Indignant Merchants then banded together and seized fireworks from all such peddlers and removed them to a place of safe storage.
A Complaint was made to the Prefect, and the parties came together to present their claims. The Merchants argued that they were of higher education, possessed of greater wisdom, and better suited to store and protect the fireworks, for the good of the town. The Prefect inquired if this was truly in The Way, and would not much bad karma come from their act.
The Merchants replied that this thought had also come to them lately, and that several Monks had just been paid to bless the fireworks, and were even now, at the time of this Inquiry, burning incense and carrying censors through the warehouse to purify the goods and purge any evil. The Prefect wondered at the distant rumble of Thunder on such a clear day.
Submitted on behalf of my Principal, Sensei SFGR
The Head Researcher, as Agent
Winner.
The Rotten Acorn
A Wise Monk passed a Man with a watering jar, planting an acorn, and asked to see the seed. Upon examination, the Monk declared it a Bad Seed from which there would be no good fruit nor any shade, and handed the acorn back. The Man proceeded to drop the seed into the ground and kicked the soil back over the hole. The Monk asked why the Man had planted the seed when he knew no good come from it. The Man replied that he was merely disposing of the acorn, and would not tend or water it.
The Monk cursed him for a Fool, saying that a Bad Seed would but flourish in neglect, and cause much harm. The Man inquired of the Monk what should he do to keep this from happening. The Monk replied, water it and give it much care. The Man then cursed the Monk for a Fool, saying that was what he first meant to do when the Monk stopped him. The Monk emptied the watering jar upon the Man, and continued on his journey.
Submitted on behalf of my Principal, Sensei SFGR
The Head Researcher, as Agent
A man stopped the Buddha on the road and demanded, “Where is your birth certificate?”
The Buddha replied, “There is no birth certificate.”
The man looked surprised, and gestured. “Then you are a fraud.” He walked away.
Another man stopped the Buddha by the river, and asked, “Where is your birth certificate?”
The Buddha replied, “There is no birth certificate.”
This man looked puzzled. “What do you mean? Everyone has a birth certificate.”
The Buddha added, “What is your true face before you were born?” This man walked away silently.
The next day the Buddha received an invitation to lecture in a foreign country. “Do you have a passport?” his assistant asked.
The Buddha considered. “No. Just my birth certificate.”
COMMENTARY
On the road, the Buddha posted his everyday birth certificate. By the river, he published his long form. To his assistant, he introduced zen.
Who holds a shovel in empty hands? Who gives over their wallet while taking the thief’s weapon? Who only eats their vegetables cooked in the hunter’s pan?
Squeeky
You are welcome back in chat next week. Invite Labia, Buddha and the monk to come too.
Thank you!!! I will update my Fearanheit 451 Internet Article. Fabia will never come to it, though, because she is not interested in any of this stuff. She just does me favors sometimes when I need help.
The Head Researcher, as Agent
You could try updating the article to say you were kicked from the chatroom for lying about your multiple sockpuppets. I kicked you when you claimed you weren’t using both Squeeky Fromme and Head Researcher as aliases.
A fat acolyte with the improbable name of Zhay’roam Khor-see, entered a simple Buddhist monastery on Wu-tan mountain. Previously, Khor-see had studied at Haw-Vahd-Yahd, a posh university in the provincial capital. While he had received good grades and a diploma, his malicious tongue and false eye proved he had learned nothing of the Buddha nature. Even now, Khor-see was writing scrolls that led good people to cluck their tongues and wish him ill-luck. Khor-see’s father hoped life in the spare monastery, under the tutelage of Zen master Zhaozhou Congshen, would impart sense into his obese and fractious son. “He might even lose a few pounds,” his father remarked. “Who knows–with Buddha, anything’s possible.”
On his first day, Zhay’roam Khor-see arrived late to hear master Zhaozhou teach. To find a seat, he told two students that their father had been injured, and they rushed home to help him. “Lies serve a man more profitably than truth,” Khor-see smiled as he made himself comfortable. All this and more, Zhaozhou, the supremely enlightened one, observed.
Hoping to attract attention, Khor-see rose and impudently demanded of master Zhaozhou, “What is truth?” There was a murmur in the crowd and Khor-see gleamed. “You can always tell a Hah-vad man,” he thought to himself.
In response to the question, the master raised a copy of Khor-see’s latest scroll, a scurrilous text entitled, “Where’s The Fortune in My Fortune Cookie?” The crowd gasped and Khor-see beamed. With a wry, inscrutable expression, the master said softly, “Here, here is the truth.” Everyone was stunned into silent despair.
But after a moment, one student, Mahakashyapa, broke into a broad smile. And now master Zhaozhou’s grave countenance dissolved and he began to laugh. Soon everyone was laughing, laughing at themselves, at Zhaoshou’s prank, and at Khor-see’s discomfiture. Only Khor-see didn’t laugh. He was furious. First, he fumed, he would go home and eat a weeks worth of victuals. Then he would set about getting his revenge. He marched up to the old master to tell him off. Before he could speak, Zhaoshou had knocked fatty to his ass using a secret Wu Tan maneuver called “Step Back/Repulse Monkey.” Khor-see mewled and whimpered on the ground.
The master spoke without malice, “Do not cry blessed one. You asked, ‘What is the truth?’ and you were given your answer with welcome speed: scorn, humiliation, and pain. After pretending to study, you have finally begun to learn.” And Khor-see’s eyes were opened and he threw himself at the feet of Zhaoshou begging for more instruction. Obligingly, Zhaoshou undid his gown and began to urinate on Khor-see fine clothes, spoiling them. The crowd roared their approval and Khor-see was happy for it.
“How does one tell if someone is knowingly spreading deceit or merely honestly deceived?” a young, sincere monk entreated the Buddha.
“Who wants to know?”
“I do.”
“Then once you are here, I will answer your question.”
“What do you mean? I’m standing right in front of you.”
“Are you trying to trick me?” the Buddha gently enquired. “Or are you just confused?”
This one made the whole contest worthwhile.
Thank you, Paper. Hands down the best post of the thread.
I’m going to make a small poster of that for my office for an occasional reflection.
clapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclap ( the sound of two hands clapping)
The Head Researcher is NOT a “sockpuppet” but a simply a different name suited to my different job at The Birther Think Tank. For example, you might be Dr. Ken Noisewater here, and then on your Mop and Bucket Sales website, be The Head Janitor. The Head Janitor would NOT be your sockpuppet.
I am pretty open about being The Head Researcher.
http://headresearcher.posterous.com/pages/about-obama-the-opaque-years-and-beyond
Sooo, no, you had no reason for what you did. You were just being you. If you are sorry about what you did, you should just say that you are sorry.
The Head Researcher, as Agent
No Jennifer4Hillary, that is what in the real world is called a lie.
Using two ID’s in the same location is called using a sock puppet.
Do try and keep up
No its a name you use when you decide to pretend to be someone else. I don’t use two different names at this site and I was very clear when I did a name change to announce it that’s why Bob Ross is in parenthesis. Remember you claimed you were leaving this site back when you posted under Squeeky Fromme only to return a week or two later as Head Researcher. Several times we’ve called you out on it and claim to be someone else. Just as you did in the Radio chat. That is why you were kicked. You lied when called out.
The Wisdom of Feet
An acolyte, who with study had advanced much in her Wisdom, found herself in contention with certain loud, obnoxious, and feeble-minded persons. Confident that her studies had taught her the ways of proper thought, she was perplexed when these persons continued in the Path of Folly, and yea, verily at an even greater volume and insistence than before her instruction, and with many falsehoods.
She inquired of her Master how this could be, and lamented that if her Head could not contain enough Wisdom to prevail against even petty persons of little thought, perhaps she could never become learned in The Way. The Master responded, saying that all Wisdom is not found within one’s Head, and that one’s Feet also tread The Way.
Submitted on behalf of my Principal, Sensei SFGR
The Head Researcher, as Agent
The blogger Dr. Conspiracy challenged his readers with the story of Master Zhu to illustrate the scope of human potential.
One commenter said that Dr. Conspiracy was deluded, that no one had such a power.
Dr. Conspiracy replied, “then why do you argue with birthers?”
Dr. Conspiracy commented on this story saying: sometimes the path of of wisdom is to walk away.
If The Way was a hymn book, it would contain many songs, and no requirement that all sing from the same page.
The Head Researcher, as Agent.
Good point.
I was hoping the Master would say, “Girl, why you be judging all the time?”
Remember Lao-tzu’s advice:
Not-knowing is true knowledge.
Presuming to know is a disease.
First realize that you are sick;
then you can move toward health.
The Vine of Much Itching
Once, as a Master instructed a group of acolytes by Koan, one of them inquired why the Master recited to them the Koans of The Master of Dung, and of The Ship of Village Idiots, and of The Wisdom of Feet, yet did not instruct them in the Greatest of All Koans, The Vine of Much Itching. This Koan was known by the learned and un-learned alike, under one name or another, and all had oft heard the story since the age of children. The Master directed the acolyte to relate the tale, in his own manner, and thus:
Once, in the corner of the garden of newly appointed Prefect, the Palace Gardener noticed a small vine growing, a vine known by many names – The Vine of Misery, The Vine of Skin Bubbles, but most often, The Vine of Much Itching. Tales of this vine were so ancient, and so ubiquitous, that the great Fu Xi himself had indeed written of it, The Book of Itching, believing that Great Divinations could be had simply from the study thereof. The Prefect, supposedly a Man of Great Wisdom, instructed the Gardener to simply cut off the vine at the ground. The Gardener obeyed, but this left the root of the Vine to regrow.
When the Vine re-grew, and indeed it did to great degree, the Prefect ignored it, and all entreaties to uproot the Vine. Soon, the Misery was great among the dwellers of the Palace, for lo, did all passing the Vine swear that the very air itself would afflict them with the poisonous oil. But, still the Prefect did not order the uprooting and burning of the Vine, said refusal being the reason for much curiosity and speculation.
Some, among those who were never pleased with the appointment of the Prefect, thought the reason to be Foolish Pride, wherein the Prefect would not admit his error in not properly disposing of the Vine. Others, that the Prefect was not a man of Wisdom after all, but merely a Fool in robes of authority, while still others mused that the Prefect, being born in a different Province, was simply unaware of the nature of the Vine. Still others, versed in the ways of political intrigue, voiced with certainty that the Prefect intended to confound those not close to him with miserable scratching.
But, those who were faithful to the Prefect, and close to him in their daily duties, mocked the doubters derisively, and defended their Lord, swearing that the Prefect had already disposed of the Vine, and that verily there was no need to do aught else, even while scratching furiously themselves, and wailing in grief. Finally, after well nigh three years of suffering, the Prefect, who himself had finally been touched by the Itch, and whose Ministers could barely carry on their duties for the constant scratching, moaning, and putting on of tinctures, ordered the Vine be uprooted and burned.
However, even after destruction, the Vine continued to afflict, for it had propagated by way of sprigs and berries, and those previously infected were made even more susceptible to the poison. Even those who scratched not, had lost confidence in the Prefect. Because of this, the province suffered, and the Prefect was recalled by the Emperor to serve in small and sundry ways, where he could do little harm.
Thus ended the acolyte’s telling of the tale, and all awaited for the words of The Master. The Master spoke saying, verily, that this was the Greatest of Koans, and one from which much knowledge could be gleaned. And, that all the Koans taught thus far, were but small kernels of enlightenment which the acolytes must take in to fully understand the Vine of Much Itching, for the Vine itself was not the true source of the Great Misery and Suffering that befell the province.
Submitted on behalf of my Principal, Sensei SFGR
The Head Researcher, as Agent
First, these stories you write are nothing like koans, a form you obviously don’t get. They are just thinly veiled insults written in an allegorical form.
I think that they are devoid both in creativity (terribly transparent), and in valid application to the questions at hand.
In this story, for example, a more accurate allegory would be there was no vine, but that the people blamed all their itching and misery on a construct of their imagination rather than on the many and varied actual causes. They blamed the Prefect for their own problems.
You were better at Haiku.
The Insulted Acolyte
Once, a man who had grown rich through trade, prepared himself to study The Way with a Master. For several years he read, and then read again, and often, from The Book of Stone and Sand, becoming able at will to recite each of the Koans therein. He learned to calm himself, learned the pleasures of silence, and studied the methods of contemplation. Confident of his progress, the Man approached the Master and made application to become his acolyte, informing the Master of all his many achievements.
The Master asked him his understanding of Finding A Diamond On A Muddy Road. Speaking softly and respectfully, the would-be acolyte replied that while Muju was no doubt a Great Master, he flaunted proper form in this Koan and it was too long, contained no riddles or paradoxes, and lacked all inscrutability, as indeed did many of Muju’s Koans.
The Master rejected his application informing the scholar that he was dumber than the ass which walked in a circle at the grinding wheel, braying and trying to force Wisdom into a proper form as if a piece of grain. What, the Master inquired, would be his next great undertaking–perhaps giving the proper form to the Winds, or deciding the proper form of the water in the Ocean???
Greatly insulted at these words of rebuke, the formerly-serene acolyte cursed him with several bad words and flung a rock at the Master, who side stepped the Taste of Bonzo’s Stone. Now, said the smiling Master, because you have ceased thinking, you have become a student who can be taught. Shamed, and enlightened, the Man forgot all he knew, became a proper acolyte and grew in knowledge of The Way.
Submitted on behalf of my Principal, Sensei SFGR
The Head Researcher, as Agent