Yep, it is a nice story and your telling is much richer than most I have heard.
I certainly agree with you about its value for every/any one since we all tend
to carry rules-based social conduct as an interpretive register. And I would
agree that such a social syndrome leads us to perpetuate robotistic dreaming as
a form of illucid waking ... perhaps the binary twin of lucid dreaming.
My only point was that monastic stories are a bit different in flavor. I was
given one in the monastery and it has stuck across the years. However I don't
have the time right now to pass it on but maybe later it could be done.
Actually it never occurred to me to tell such a story here on FFL. So I'm
thinking about it. A few here might enjoy it.
Thanks for the reply.
emptyhillbillyjim
Duveyoung <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote:
Billy,
Woo, nice dense writing. Good on ya.
But, though I wrote it up as a romantic fable of sorts, don't you
think that this story has something very important for all spiritual
adherants to "eventually get?"
It is one thing for the "universe" to suddenly make the monk robot
sweep the woman up in his (the universe's) arms -- against all
proprieties of the culture -- and by doing so create a paradox worthy
of any Zen one-hand-clappingness, and quite another for a mind to then
obsessively re-run in one's imagination (not really memory cuz it's
all nowness donchaknow) this paradox using a moralistic dogmatism to
justify what is actually an abuse of one's nervous system that will
slow one's evolution.
The one monk broke local mores but fulfilled a larger purpose, the
other monk, not seeing that as God's freedom to create without any
absolute restraints in the relative (can't corner God with his own
laws,) CHOSE to not transcend but instead fixated on and perseverated
an egoic POV -- thus hardwiring an identification that will eventually
have to be withdrawn.
Arjuna was told to "cheat" the "polite rules of war" and kill his evil
twin brother, Karna, by attacking him when his head was turned.
Krishna didn't care about dharma-one when it came to eradicating all
the Kshatriaic race, and told Arjuna -- if you don't throw this broken
wagon wheel, I'll be so pissed, I'll break my vow of "not fighting"
and I'll kill that bastard.
Inside one's head are two voices, and this tale is about one's freedom
to chose which to tune into.
Seems to me to be pretty deep as concepts go, and the contemplation of
this can lead to your "absorption into a station of being."
Edg
--- In FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com, billy jim <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote:
>
> This is a nice story but it is not a monastic story.
>
> I'm thinking it first appeared in the '65-68's and was recounted
by Paul Reps. However, I may be overshadowed by brain fuzz on the
orginal dates.
>
> In any case this is a story about two monks - which is not the
same as a monastic story. Monastic stories are not designed to engage
the mind. This is one way you can tell which stories are created by
and/or transmitted by monastics. Monastic stories are not sentimental
in any way but strike directly at the heart (nous/intellectus). They
are not descriptively rich but rather sparse although they can also be
funny. The narrative point of monastic stories tends to reverberate
for years in a pracitioner's psyche because the story presents a
discernment about the relationship between contemplation and action.
It is therefore not reducible to a state of noetic recognition but can
only be resolved by absorption into a station of being, ie. knowing by
being.
>
>
>
>
> Marek Reavis <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote:
> Edg, a very nice retelling a great parable. I'd be
interested to read other re-writes you
> might do.
>
> Marek
>
> **
>
> --- In FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com, Duveyoung <no_reply@> wrote:
> >
> > Many versions this story has been posted around the Web, and I've
> > liked them so much that I put this tale into my own words.
> >
> > I post this as an effort to show that I have dealt with the nuances of
> > drooling, and that "writing off Edg's morality as simple projection
> > and sublimination" may not be the only way to sum up my stance on the
> > morals involving relationships. After this story, I'll post another
> > one with a correlative theme, and then we'll see if I have in any way
> > tempered the perception that I'm a sublimnationist without clarity.
> >
> > Edg
> >
> > TWO MONKS
> >
> > An ancient story. Two student monks were walking in a town, ages ago,
> > far away. They were both handsome young men, but they were serious
> > about becoming absolutely aware of their inner spirits. The monastery
> > in which they lived and took instruction had very strict rules of
> > behavior for its students.
> >
> > A hot rain had been falling all morning, but at last the sun had come
> > out, and everything was glistening with a coating of pure water. The
> > marketplace was filled with noise and bustle, and the streets were
> > very muddy. Only under the woven thatched awnings of the storefronts
> > of the streets were there any dry paths.
> >
> > They came upon a lovely lady attired in expensive clothing, holding a
> > delicate hand painted parasol. Everything about this woman was
> > refined and spoke of wealth and knowledge of the world and its
many ways.
> >
> > It was obvious to the monks that she was trying to cross the road
> > without getting her clothes dirty, but it was impossible. She stood
> > there in a perfect moment as the sun echoed in thousands of small
> > puddles from foot and hoof prints. Suddenly, the taller of the monks
> > swept the woman and her beauty up in his arms and carried her safely
> > across the road.
> >
> > Afterwards, they went back to their monastery rooms to meditate before
> > the evening's rituals. As they sat down together, the shorter monk
> > finally spoke his mind, saying, "I cannot understand your actions! We
> > are monks! We do not go near females -- especially beautiful women
> > who are experienced with the ways of the life that we have put behind
> > us. That was dangerous. Why did you do that?"
> >
> > The taller monk settled into his meditative pose, and just before he
> > closed his eyes, he looked at his friend, and said, "I left the girl
> > there on the side of the street. Are you still carrying her?"
> >
>
>
>
>
>
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