Welcome to another chapter of Zen Stories.
And our focus for today is the many faces of love.
But first.
.
.
Let's begin with the breathe.
As you inhale,
Imagine breathing and warmth.
Gentle golden warmth that fills your chest.
And as you exhale,
Imagine breathing out that warmth into the room that you are in.
Into the air around you.
And into the world at large.
With each breath,
You are giving and receiving.
With each breath,
You are practicing love.
The love that we are referring to here is not that from fairy tales or romance novels.
This is the love that Zen speaks of.
A love that is quiet,
Steady and boundless.
Could be the love of a mother for a child.
The love of a teacher for a student,
Love of a friend who sits with you in silence.
It's the love that asks for nothing in return.
And the love that is simply the nature of an open heart.
The stories that follow explore many faces of love.
Some are traditional,
Passed down through generations of monks and masters.
And others are born from the same timeless wisdom.
At the end of each story,
We will pause together and I will offer quiet contemplation.
Which you can hold.
And explore,
Or not.
So let's take another warming breath in,
And as you exhale,
Allow yourself to open.
To the beautiful vibration of love.
And let the stories begin.
This first story is a traditional Zen tale entitled The Mother and the Monkey.
It was once a woman.
Whose only son had left home to become a monk.
She had raised him alone after her husband died.
She had loved him with every fiber of her being.
When he told her he was leaving to seek enlightenment,
She wondered when she would see him again.
She waited.
Years passed.
You heard nothing.
Imagined him in a monastery meditating.
Finding Peace.
But she could not find peace.
She missed him.
She missed the sound of his voice,
The weight of his hand in hers.
And his presence in the home.
Finally,
Unable to bear the absence any longer.
She traveled to the monastery.
She had not been invited.
And she had not written ahead.
So she arrived at the gate.
And announce.
And asked to see her son.
The monks were surprised.
They told her that her son had taken vows of renunciation.
He had let go of all worldly ties,
Including family.
He could not see her.
The mother stood at the gate,
Tears streaming down her face.
I do not want to take him from his path,
" she said.
I only want to see his face.
Just once.
Eve.
The abbot of the monastery came to the gate.
He was an old,
Kind man with eyes that had seen much suffering.
He looked at the mother and felt his own heart ache.
Wait here,
He said.
He went to find the young monk and he found him in the meditation hall sitting perfectly still.
His face serene.
Your mother is at the gate,
The abbot said.
She has traveled far.
She only wishes to see your face.
The young monk did not open his eyes.
I have renounced all attachments,
He said.
To see her would be to break my vows.
It was silence.
And then the abbot softly replied.
You have renounced attachment.
But have you renounced love?
Attachments is You are mine.
Love,
Seas.
I wish you well.
Your mother is not here to claim you.
She is here to love you.
And you are refusing her love because you are afraid of your own attachment.
That is not renunciation.
That is fear.
The young monk's eyes opened.
Something in the abbot's words attached a place he had been hiding from himself.
He rose and walked to the gate.
When he saw his mother.
Older now,
Smaller.
Profess line with grief but also love.
Felt something break open in his chest.
He didn't run to her or embrace her.
He stood before her and he let her look at his face.
She looked for a long time.
And then she smiled.
You are well,
She said.
This is all I wanted to know.
She turned and began the long walk home.
The young monk stood at the gate and watched her go.
He was not attached.
And yet,
He was filled with love.
He had learned the difference.
As you allow your mind to rest after this story,
Consider the people in your life that you love.
Can you love them without needing them to be different?
And you hold them in your heart.
Without holding them in your hands.
This is the type of love that frees both of you.
We'll remain in quietness for a minute.
Allowing for contemplation.
Our next story is The Beggar and the Pearl.
A beggar sat at the edge of a busy market.
Is bowl empty?
Is clothes torn?
Is heart heavy?
He had been begging for so many years.
He had forgotten what it felt like to have enough.
He felt invisible.
He felt and loved.
One day,
A wealthy merchant passed by.
He was known for his generosity,
But also for his strange ways.
He stopped in front of the beggar and looked at him for a long moment.
The beggar held out his bowl and said,
Please,
Sir,
Anything you can spare.
The merchant reached into his pockets and brought out a small wrapped bundle and placed it in the beggar's bowl.
Here,
He said,
This is the greatest gift I can give you.
Make his heart lift.
He imagined gold coins,
A jewel,
Something of value.
But when he unwrapped the bundle.
.
.
He found only a small.
.
.
Quite an remarkable rule.
A pearl the size of a pea.
Quite dull in colour,
Almost grey.
The beggar was disappointed.
He did not understand.
This was not what he needed.
He needed food.
He needed money.
He did not need a tiny,
Dull pearl.
He held it in his hand,
Confused.
He looked up to ask the merchant what it was,
But the merchant was gone.
At night,
The beggar sat in his usual spot,
The pearl in his hand.
He was hungry and cold and angry.
He felt that the merchant had mocked him.
He was about to throw the pearl away when.
.
.
He noticed something.
The pool was warm.
It was warmer than his hair.
It pulsed gently like a heartbeat.
He looked closer.
And so the pearl was not dull.
It was glowing.
A soft golden light was radiating from it,
Growing brighter as he watched.
It was not a pearl at all.
It was something else.
Something alive.
As he held it,
A voice spoke.
Not from outside.
From inside.
I and the love you have been begging for.
You have been searching for it everywhere,
In food,
Money,
In the eyes of strangers.
But it was always here within you.
I am not given to you.
I am already yours.
The biggest stared at the pearl.
The pole was like a mirror.
Reflecting the love that was already inside him.
Love he had never noticed because he was so busy searching for it elsewhere.
And he began to weep.
He had spent his whole life feeling unloved.
But the love had never left him.
He had simply been looking in the wrong places.
He put the pearl back in his pocket.
He did not need to hold it anymore.
He knew it was there.
And from that day on,
He did not beg for love.
Instead,
He began to give love.
The story speaks to such a profound truth that the love we seek outside of ourselves,
From our friends,
Family,
Strangers,
Is only a reflection of the love that already lives within.
Can you place your hand on your heart and feel the warmth beneath your hand?
That is not just a heartbeat.
This is the reflection of the love that you hold.
And has never left you.
As we rest together quietly for a minute.
You might like to ask yourself.
And I love myself as I am right now,
In this moment.
We now move to a story entitled The Teacher and the Student Who Failed.
A young monk had been studying with a great master for many years.
He had tried so hard to understand the teaching,
Meditated for hours.
He had read the sutras.
He had asked questions until his voice was hoarse.
And still he did not understand.
But not grasp at the heart of Zin.
These fellow students seemed to progress.
They had insights.
They had moments of clarity.
The young monk felt left behind.
He felt like a fair deal.
One day he went to his master.
His face was downcast and his shoulders were heavy.
Master,
He said,
I cannot do this anymore.
I have tried for years.
I'm not like the others.
I'm not worthy of your teaching.
I think I should just leave.
The master looked at him with calm,
Steady eyes.
Why do you think you have failed?
The young monk replied,
I do not understand the teachings.
I do not have insights.
I cannot grasp the truth.
Master asked,
Do you love the practice?
The young monk was surprised.
Yes,
He said,
Of course I do.
I love the sitting.
I love the silence.
I love the words of the masters.
Even if I do not understand them,
I love being here,
Even when I feel like a failure.
Master nodded.
Then you have not failed.
You have loved.
Understanding will come.
And maybe not.
That is not in your control.
But your love for the practice that is in your control.
And that is what matters.
You do not need to understand zin to love zin.
You only need to love it.
The love is the understanding.
The love is the enlightenment.
Yang Meng looked at the master.
Feeling something loosen in his chest.
He had been so focused on achieving,
On attaining,
That he had forgotten he was there for the love of it.
The master was not disappointed.
The master did not love him because he was successful.
Master loved him.
Because he was his student.
That was enough.
So the young monk stayed.
He continued to sit.
Continued to love.
And in time,
He stopped worrying about whether he understood because he knew he was home.
Can you accept yourself here,
Right now,
Just as you are?
In our contemplation.
Let's quietly reflect on the question.
And I accept the love that asks nothing of me.
Our fourth story is a well-known Zen tale about two monks and a woman.
One day,
Two monks were walking together along a country road.
When was older?
Stern.
Deeply committed to the rules of his order.
The other was younger.
Gentler and more willing to bend.
They came to a river.
And saw that the bridge had washed out in a recent storm.
The water was running high and fast.
And at the edge of the river stood a young woman.
She was dressed in fine clothes,
Clearly from a wealthy family.
And she was weeping,
Wringing her hands.
When she saw the monks,
She called out,
Please,
Sirs,
I cannot cross.
The water is too deep.
I am afraid and I need to get to the other side to see my mother who is dying.
Can you please help me?
The older monk looked at her.
His face was blank.
We are monks,
He said.
We do not touch women.
It is against our vows.
We cannot help you.
He walked past her and began to wade across the river himself.
He did not look back.
The younger monk looked at the woman.
I saw her tears.
I saw her fear.
Who saw her love for her dying mother.
And his heart open.
So he walked to her.
I will carry you across,
Isu.
He lifted her onto his back and waded into the river.
Water was cold and fast,
But he held her securely.
He carried her all the way to the other side and set her down gently on the bank.
The woman thanked him and hurried away.
The younger monk continued on his way.
And caught up with the older man.
They walked the rest of the way together,
Mostly in silence.
Finally,
The aldermanc sproke.
His voice was tight.
You touched that woman,
He said.
You carried her across the river.
You broke your vows.
You are not worthy of your robe.
The younger monk walked quietly for a moment and then said,
I left that woman at the riverbank.
Are you still caring her?
This question struck the older man clack-a-bell.
He realized he had been carrying the woman in his mind for miles.
Resenting her,
Judging her,
Judging his brother.
He had been carrying her burden of judgment,
While the other monk had simply shown love,
And then let it go.
Consider for yourself now,
Are you carrying someone in your mind?
I have someone you have judged.
Presented.
Or being unable to forgive.
And you sit them down.
Can you sit yourself down?
Let's contemplate this for the next minute.
Our final story in this theme,
The woman who meditated on love.
The young woman came to her teacher with a problem.
I want to love everyone,
She said.
But I can't.
There are people I dislike.
Your people who have hurt me.
There are people I do not even know.
How can I love everyone?
It is impossible.
Her teacher said,
Love is not a feeling.
It is a practice.
You do not wait for love to arise.
You practice it.
The young woman was confused.
How do I practice love?
The teacher explained,
Every morning when you wake,
Sit on your cushion.
Breathe gently.
And imagine a person you love deeply.
Perhaps your mother.
A friend,
Someone else.
Feel your love for them and let it fill your chest.
Then,
When the love is strong,
Imagine someone you feel neutral about.
A stranger.
A shopkeeper.
Someone you see but do not know.
Let this love extend to them now.
Then.
.
.
When that feels natural.
Imagine someone you dislike.
Perhaps someone who has hurt you.
Let this love extend to these people.
And finally,
Extend that love to all beings,
Everywhere.
It's not a feeling.
It is a practice.
Do it every day and you will find that love becomes your nature.
Can I really learn to love someone who is dear to me?
Asked the young woman.
The teacher said.
You are not asked to like them.
You are not asked to trust them.
You are not asked to let them hurt you again.
You are simply asked.
To wish them well.
To say,
May you be at peace.
May you be free from suffering.
That is love.
It is not a feeling.
It is a wish,
And a wish can be practiced.
The young woman went back to sit on her cushion.
And practice.
And at first it was difficult.
She could feel the love for her mother.
That was easy.
But when she tried to extend it to a stranger,
It felt forced.
When she tried to extend it to an enemy,
She felt resistance.
She continued.
Every day,
She sat.
Every day she breathed,
Every day she practiced.
And slowly.
Something shifted.
The love that she felt for her mother began to feel less personal.
And more universal.
It was not just love for her.
It was love itself.
And it was always there.
One day,
She realized she had been sitting for an hour,
Radiating love to all beings.
Including.
The ones who had hurt her.
And she felt no resistance.
She felt only peace.
She went to her teacher and said,
I think I understand now.
Love is not something that I can find.
It is something I have to practice.
And the practice is the love.
The teacher returned the smile and said yes.
That is it.
Exactly.
So just as you are here right now.
Practice love.
Begin with someone you love and feel the warmth.
Then extend it out to a stranger.
Into someone you find difficult.
And then to all being.
You do not need to feel anything.
Just set the intention.
May all beings be at peace.
May all beings be free.
Who can you wish well right now?
Simply because you choose to.
Thank you for walking together along these different pathways of love.
The one with the mother who loved without grasping.
The beggar who found love within himself.
A teacher who loved without condition.
A monk who broke the rules to show compassion.
And a student.
You'll learn that love is not a feeling.
At a practice.
Let these stories be like invitations,
Inviting in the love that asks nothing.
The love that releases.
The love that practices.
Bring your attention once more to your breath.
As you inhale,
Breathe in love.
The love that is already here within you.
As you exhale,
Breathe out love.
Love that wishes all beings well.
Let this breath be your prayer.
May you rest in love.
May you wake in love.
And may the love you practice spread out into the world.
Like ripples on a still lake.
