Nice story. I wonder how true it is.

on 4/10/05 6:48 PM, Vaj at [EMAIL PROTECTED] wrote:

> 
> 
>   Bhusuku (Shantideva)
> (From the text "Caturasiti-siddha-pravrtti" {Grub thob brgyad cu rtsa
> bzhi'i lo rgyus}by
> Abhayadatta, translated by Keith Dowman)
> 
>   The younger son of a royal family came to the famed monastic academy
> of Sri Nalanda to be
> ordained in the mahasanghika order. But he had been much pampered as a
> child, and he found
> it not only difficult but unreasonable to give up his former ways.
> While his fellow monks studied,
> he lazed in bed. While his fellow monks spent hours in meditation, he
> strolled about the gardens
> of the monastery for the sake of his digestion. His other greatest
> pleasure was mealtime, where
> he savored every grain of his five measures of rice.
> 
>   �� His lazy ways irritated his peers beyond belief, and they took to
> calling him Bhusuku, "The
> Shiftless One". They gossiped about him remorselessly behind his back,
> said equally rude
> things to his face, and dearly hoped he would soon meet his comeuppance.
> 
>   �� It was the custom at Nalanda that scriptures were read around the
> clock, morning, noon,
> and night, in every one season and out the other. To maintain this
> tradition, each monk
> took his turn sitting upon the temple throne under the monks' canopy
> reciting his memorized
> portion of the sutras. Every one took his turn, without exception,
> except of course Bhusuku.
> As he had managed to memorize nothing, he often missed his turn. The
> accumulated annoyance
> and enmity that arose from this was surprising in so holy as
> institution.
> 
>   �� Finally, Bhusuku's scandalous behavior earned him a severe warning
> from the abbot. He was
> told that unless he mended his ways and took his turn on the rota like
> everyone else, he would
> be expelled from the monastery. Quite a number of monks smirked behind
> their hands at this,
> evidently hoping for the worst possible outcome.
> 
>   �� "But I've broken no vow," Bhusuku argued in his own defense. "I'm
> simply a bad scholar.
> Is that any reason for expelling me?"
> 
>   �� The abbot was adamant. Tomorrow morning bright and early his turn
> came up. If he missed
> his recitation this time, he was out on his ear. The monks were
> delighted, and a good deal of
> petty gossip flew about concerning the imminent downfall of a certain
> good-for-nothing lazybones.
> 
>   �� Despite his warning, however, the abbot was a very kindly man, and
> he had a soft spot for
> the miscreant. That night, after everyone had gone to bed to dream of
> the glorious comedy
> to come on the morrow, the abbot came to Bhusuku's cell to give him
> some advice.
> 
>   �� "Well, my son," said the abbot, "you've gotten yourself into a
> pretty pickle. You've spent so
> much time pandering to your stomach and being a slugbed, you've not
> managed to learn so
> much as half as a dozen lines of any one sutra. You will certainly fail
> tomorrow unless you
> follow my counsel."
> 
>   �� Bhusuku prostrated himself at the abbot's feet and begged for his
> help. "Anything, sir. Just
> name it. I'll do it."
> 
>   �� "Very well," said the abbot, adding sternly, "but it means you'll
> get no sleep tonight."
> 
>   �� "Even that, sir," said the chastened monk.
> 
>   �� "The only hope for you," said the abbot, "is to spend the night
> reciting the mantra of Manjusri,
> the Bodhisattva for Intellect. You must recite the arapacana mantra
> until cockcrow, and hope
> for the best." He then gave Bhusuku the secret precepts of Manjusri's
> sadhana, and the blessing
> of the mantra, and left the repentant one to his task.
> 
>   �� Knowing his own weaknesses well, Bhusuku took the precaution of
> tying the collar of his
> robe to the ceiling by a stout cord lest he nod off during the night.
> And all night long he recited
> the mantra the abbot had taught him - over and over again until he was
> in a stupor of fatigue.
> 
>   �� Just before the dawn, his cell was suddenly flooded with light.
> Bhusuku jerked awake and
> decided it must be sunup, and here he was, not one whit wiser than he'd
> been the night before.
> Just then, a great voice boomed from the ceiling, "What do you think
> you're doing?"
> 
>   �� Looking up, the exhausted monk saw an enormous figure floating in
> the air above his head.
> "I am invoking the aid of Lord Manjusri to help me recite a sutra this
> very day, and I have
> learned none. But, who are you, and what do you want of me?"
> 
>   �� "That's a foolish question," replied his unusual guest. "You've
> been invoking me half the night."
> 
>   �� "Y-y-y-you are Manjusri himself!" stammered the startled monk.
> 
>   �� "The very one. Now tell me what you want and let me get on about my
> business."
> 
>   �� Bhusuku would have flung himself to the floor but he was still tied
> to the ceiling, so he pressed
> his palms together in the gesture of supplication, and begged, "Please,
> great lord, grant me the
> power and realization of every quality of perfect insight."
> 
>   �� "Done!" said Manjusri. "Recite your sutra when you are called." And
> he vanished as suddenly
> as he had came.
> 
>   �� Word was abroad that Bhusuku was about to make a fool of himself
> this very day, and King
> Devapala and his entire court came for the show. The altar was piled
> high with the fragrant
> offerings of flowers all the visitors had brought with them.
> 
>   �� The audience tittered and whispered to each other when Bhusuku
> arrived in the great hall.
> They were amused as he walked confidently down the aisle and mounted
> the temple throne
> �- all waited eagerly for him to fall flat on his face. Instead, he
> called for the monks' canopy
> and seated himself in the lotus position. He gazed out at his audience
> with great calm and
> waited patiently for quiet. When it became clear that he at last had
> everyone's attention, he
> levitated into the air above the throne, and his body began to blaze
> with a great radiance
> that pulsed throughout the great hall.
> 
>   �� Those who had come to laugh were stricken dumb with amazement. They
> looked at each
> other in wonder.
> 
>   �� Bhusuku greeted the king and asked, "Shall I recite a traditional
> sutra, your majesty, or
> would you prefer something of my own composition?"
> 
>   �� The king began to smile. "I am told that your eating habits are
> highly unusual," he said,
> "and your sleeping and strolling habits are subjects of great wonder to
> your fellow monks.
> It seems only fitting that you would maintain your standards of
> originality and recite a sutra
> of your very own."
> 
>   �� Whereupon Bhusuku began to compose and recite the sublime and
> profound discourse
> that came to be called the "Bodhicaryavatara", 'The Pathway to
> Enlightenment'. When he
> had completed the tenth and last chapter he rose into the sky to the
> height of seven palm
> trees, inspiring renewed faith in those who had assembled there that
> day.
> 
>   �� "This is not Bhusuku, 'The Shiftless One'," exclaimed the king. "He
> is surely a great sage."
> And he renamed the monk Shantideva, "Divine Peace".
> 
>   �� The people began to strew the places his feet had touched with
> flowers, and the pundits
> humbly requested a commentary on his discourse. Shantideva obliged
> them, but when the
> monks entreated him to become their abbot, he refused.
> 
>   �� That night, he left his robes, his begging bowl, and all his sacred
> artifacts upon the altar
> as an offering, and departed secretly. Traveling from land to land, he
> finally arrived in
> Dhokiri, a town of some two hundred and fifty thousand households.
> There, he fashioned
> himself a handsome sword out of a piece of wood and painted it with
> some gold paint.
> The following day he made his way to the court, prostrated himself
> before the king, and
> requested a position as swordsman with the palace guard. The king
> decided he was a
> likely looking fellow and hired him on the spot at the handsome stipend
> of ten tolas of gold
> a day.
> 
>   �� Shantideva served the king faithfully for twelve years. By day he
> lived as any other soldier.
> By night he practiced his sadhana, constantly attentive to the ultimate
> nature of reality. Every
> autumn, the great festival of the Mother Goddess, Umadevi, he
> accompanied the guards to
> the temple just as though he, too, were a devotee.
> 
>   �� No one was any the wiser about his true nature until one afternoon
> when everyone was in
> the armory polishing up their weapons and repairing their gear. One of
> the guards took a
> good look at Shantideva's sword. It seemed to be made of wood! Thinking
> to do himself a
> service, the guard went off immediately to report his findings to the
> king and expose the
> imposter. Shantideva was summoned to the throne room.
> 
>   �� "Show me your sword," demanded the king.
> 
>   �� "I would gladly do so, sir," said Shantideva, "but it will do you
> great harm if I obey."
> 
>   �� "Do as I say!" commanded the king. "Let me worry about the results."
> 
>   �� As Shantideva reached for the pommel, he pleaded, "At least cover
> one eye, sir."
> 
>   �� Laughing among themselves, the king and all who were gathered there
> each covered one
> eye with a hand. Whereupon Shantideva unsheathed the sword of
> awareness. As he pointed
> it heavenward, a light as intense as ten suns filled the throne room,
> blinding each unprotected
> eye. Everyone there, including the king, fell upon his knees before
> Shantideva, entreating the
> yogin's forgiveness and mercy.
> 
>   �� Shantideva went to each person in the room, beginning with the
> lowliest servant, and spitting
> on his forefinger, rubbed his healing saliva onto each injured eye,
> magically restoring the lost
> sight. The king begged him to remain as his palace priest, but
> Shantideva declined and departed
> Dhokiri that very day.
> 
>   �� He took up residence in a cave in the mountain fastness and lived
> there practicing his
> sadhana for some time. But he was always an object of curiosity to the
> hunters and
> woodsmen who lived roundabout, and they kept an eye on his doings.
> 
>   �� One day, a royal huntsman came to court with rare game for the
> king's table and let it be
> known that, with his own eyes, he had seen Shantideva hunting and
> killing deer and eating
> vension roasted upon a spit.
> 
>   �� The king immediately set out for the mountains with a large
> entourage to investigate
> these serious charges. They came upon Shantideva sitting on a deerskin
> meditating in
> front of what appeared to be a blank rock wall.
> 
>   �� The king told the yogin all that he had heard, adding, "You who
> taught the king of Nalanda
> to swallow his pride and who restored the sight of myself and all my
> court, why with such
> power at your command are you harming living beings?"
> 
>   �� "I do not kill," said Shantideva, "I heal." Whereupon he waved his
> hand in the air and the
> rock face opened behind him revealing the entrance to his cave. Out
> sprang every imaginable
> sort of animal. As they went bounding off into the woods, they seemed
> to multiply before the
> amazed eyes of the king and his retinue until the creatures covered
> every hill and filled every
> vallery. And then they vanished as though they had never been.
> 
>   �� "All elements of experience are merely dreams and illusions,"
> explained Shantideva.
> "Understand that all things are but insubstantial figments of the
> imagination, projections
> of the mind. Enter the path of liberation." He then recited this verse:
> 
>   ������������������ The deer I took for vension
> ������������������ Never existed on this earth
> ������������������ Yet will never cease to be.
> ������������������ If there is no such thing as substance,
> ������������������ Then there can be no hunter, no hunted.
> ������������������ It is not I who am the lazy one here.
> 
>   �� Whereupon Shantideva converted the king of Dhokiri, and set all his
> people upon the path
> of truth. He served them faithfully for one hundred years before
> ascending to the Paradise of
> the Dakinis.
> ----
> It is said that the reason Bhusuku slept so much was he was actually
> doing completion stage practices in the dream state. His apparent
> laziness was actually accomplished dream practice. Not everything is as
> it appears. -V.
> 
> 
> 
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--
 
Rick Archer
SearchSummit
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