Whatever comes to mind. Sometimes a story I read, sometimes something that came to me while holding my mala beads.
The Tang poet Bai Juyi visited a Zen master who lived in a tree. The master said the tree was safe — it was Bai Juyi who was in danger. A truth a three-year-old can speak, but an eighty-year-old cannot live.
A man so poor he had nothing but moonlight, and a thief who found nothing worth stealing. The night Zen monk Ryōkan lost his last robe and saw the richest view in the world through his window.
Anathapindika, the wealthy merchant who paved an entire garden with gold bricks to invite the Buddha to stay. A story about sincerity, persistence, and what it truly means to give.
