Little Monk was new to the monastery and curious about everything.In autumn, red foliage fluttered in the monastery yard. Little Monk asked Master, “These leaves are so beautiful. Why do they fall?” Master smiled. “Winter is coming, and the tree cannot hold on to so many leaves, so it must choose. The tree is not giving up; rather, it is choosing to give away.”
Winter arrived. Curious Little Monk saw elder monks turning over the water barrels one by one. He asked Master, “There is still good water in many of the barrels. Why must we pour the water out?” Master smiled. “When the water freezes, it will crack the barrels, so we must pour all the water out. We are not depleting the barrels; rather, we are unloading them.”
A blizzard came, sweeping piles of thick snow onto the junipers. Master asked Little Monk to help him tip the potted saplings over.Little Monk was confused. “Aren’t the saplings doing fine? Why lie them down?” Master replied sternly: “Who says they’re doing fine? Don’t you see how the snow is weighing them down? By laying the saplings down, we are protecting them, so that they may stand again after the snow. We are not forcing them to fall over; rather, we are teaching them to rest.”
The winter was harsh and long, and with a global recession, the monastery’s offering box was running empty. Even Little Monk felt nervous and asked Master what to do. “Have you been eating or wearing less?” Master replied with a glare. “Go see for yourself, how many clothes are there in the closet? How many piles of firewood are there in the shed? How many bags of rice and grain are there in the barn? Stop thinking about what we don’t have, and think about what we do have. The hard times will pass, and spring will come. You need to trust. This does not mean you stop being mindful; rather, you calm your heart with trust.”
Spring indeed arrived, and the thawing snow made for even more blossoms than last year. Worshippers returned, and the offering box became full again. It was then that Master prepared to set off on a long journey. Little Monk ran up to him at the mountain gate. “Master! When you are gone, what are we to do?” Master smiled and waved his hand. “You have already learned how to give away, to unload, to rest, and to trust. Is there any reason why I should not let go?”
Letting go is not letting alone, and it is not giving up. It does not indulge with abandon, nor does it abandon through rejection. If you do not pick up, then how can you give away? If you do not acquire, then how can you unload? If you do not strive, then how can you rest? If you do not care, then how can you trust? If you do not hold on, then how can you let go? Just as you need to take in order to give, you must give in order to take!
Little Monk was new to the monastery and curious about everything.In autumn, red foliage fluttered in the monastery yard. Little Monk asked Master, “These leaves are so beautiful. Why do they fall?” Master smiled. “Winter is coming, and the tree cannot hold on to so many lea...
Little Monk was new to the monastery and curious about everything.In autumn, red foliage fluttered in the monastery yard. Little Monk asked Master, “These leaves are so beautiful. Why do they fall?” Master smiled. “Winter is coming, and the tree cannot hold on to so many leaves, so it must choose. The tree is not giving up; rather, it is choosing to give away.”
Winter arrived. Curious Little Monk saw elder monks turning over the water barrels one by one. He asked Master, “There is still good water in many of the barrels. Why must we pour the water out?” Master smiled. “When the water freezes, it will crack the barrels, so we must pour all the water out. We are not depleting the barrels; rather, we are unloading them.”
A blizzard came, sweeping piles of thick snow onto the junipers. Master asked Little Monk to help him tip the potted saplings over.Little Monk was confused. “Aren’t the saplings doing fine? Why lie them down?” Master replied sternly: “Who says they’re doing fine? Don’t you see how the snow is weighing them down? By laying the saplings down, we are protecting them, so that they may stand again after the snow. We are not forcing them to fall over; rather, we are teaching them to rest.”
The winter was harsh and long, and with a global recession, the monastery’s offering box was running empty. Even Little Monk felt nervous and asked Master what to do. “Have you been eating or wearing less?” Master replied with a glare. “Go see for yourself, how many clothes are there in the closet? How many piles of firewood are there in the shed? How many bags of rice and grain are there in the barn? Stop thinking about what we don’t have, and think about what we do have. The hard times will pass, and spring will come. You need to trust. This does not mean you stop being mindful; rather, you calm your heart with trust.”
Spring indeed arrived, and the thawing snow made for even more blossoms than last year. Worshippers returned, and the offering box became full again. It was then that Master prepared to set off on a long journey. Little Monk ran up to him at the mountain gate. “Master! When you are gone, what are we to do?” Master smiled and waved his hand. “You have already learned how to give away, to unload, to rest, and to trust. Is there any reason why I should not let go?”
Letting go is not letting alone, and it is not giving up. It does not indulge with abandon, nor does it abandon through rejection. If you do not pick up, then how can you give away? If you do not acquire, then how can you unload? If you do not strive, then how can you rest? If you do not care, then how can you trust? If you do not hold on, then how can you let go? Just as you need to take in order to give, you must give in order to take!
Little Monk was new to the monastery and curious about everything.In autumn, red foliage fluttered in the monastery yard. Little Monk asked Master, “These leaves are so beautiful. Why do they fall?” Master smiled. “Winter is coming, and the tree cannot hold on to so many lea...
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