Zen Tale
There’s an old Zen tale of two patch-robed monks, students of the same master, who meet, years after his death, on a footbridge over a foaming river.
Seeing one another again, the two old friends laugh aloud.
“Do you miss our old teacher?” asks the one.
“No, now I see him everywhere,” answers the other.
For it was our love that wedded us to the ancient story, our love the music called to in the words of a poet, Scheherazade’s tale of the Many Thousand Nights that included us, in which real moonlight fell on imaginary waters.
Friend, when I meet you on the bridge in 10,000 years, please remind me that our teacher’s voice is in the wash of muddy river water over the ancient stones, and in the dancing light at the edge, where a fiddler calls the tune and we rejoin the great circle.
For the universe is full of secrets that gradually reveal themselves, but there is not enough time. Barely time for a song to praise this place where we found each other, and pass back into the “transitive nightfall of diamonds,” the beautiful melodies and suffering in the meat yearning for transformation – the only song of God.
Source : Steve Silberman
