Kokushi from clearwisdom.net
During the Tang Dynasty, there lived a monk named Wu Tatsu Kokushi, who was awarded the Kokushi title (an honorary title given to Buddhist masters).
One day before being awarded the Kokushi title, Wu Tatsu Kokushi met up with a monk who was ill. The monk had boils all over his body. He was filthy and emitted an awful body odor. Everybody avoided him except for Wu Tatsu Kokushi. He took pity on the sick monk and took care of him. Gradually, the monk returned to health. Before they parted, the monk thanked Wu Tatsu Kokushi and said, “If you ever run into any tribulation, please look for me at Jiu Long Mountain, in Peng Zhou, Sichuan Province. You need to look for two pine trees next to each other.”
Because Wu Tatsu Kokushi had high moral values and conducted himself virtuously, Emperor Tang Yi Zhong respected him greatly. He was awarded the title of Kokushi, and treated him very well. But one day a boil with the shape of a human face grew on Wu Tatsu Kokushi’s knee. It had facial features including a mouth and teeth. It could even swallow food when fed. Famous physicians from all over the country came to treat Wu Tatsu Kokushi’s illness, but to no effect.
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The beggar (van Avont). State 2 / Wikimedia Commons
Wisdom is not a given, it is learned, be it in the time of the ancients or that of our present day time-space, as the following tale beautifully reveals. Hello and welcome to another great Ancient Tale of Wisdom, my name is Grace Mann, and today’s tale is entitled: Holes in the Heart.
Once upon a time in days gone by, in order to find the true meaning of life, a young man seeking the Tao travelled far from home. Without stopping, he climbed high mountains, crossed dangerous rivers, and visited numerous places looking for a true master to answer his questions. Day after day, he met and asked many people; however, he did not feel he had gained any enlightenment. Disappointed, he pondered and wondered, but he was still not able to figure out why.
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A story of two young monks
A young monk in a temple was assigned to ring the bell. According to temple rules, he was to ring the bell daily, once in the morning and once in the evening. At first he was quite serious. But six months later he felt his duty was too mechanical and boring. One day the temple abbot announced a change of duty for the young monk and had him carry water and cut wood in the forest. He no longer wanted him near the bell. The young monk felt strange and asked the abbot, “Was it because my ringing the bell was not on time, not resounding?” The abbot told him, “The bell sound was very loud, but the sound was hallow, worn out. Because your mind didn’t understand the significance of ringing the bell, also you didn’t do it truly attentively. The sound of the bell is not merely the temple clock, the more important part is to awaken the sinking, confused sentient beings. Therefore, the sound of the bell must not only be sonorous, but also be rounded, vigorous, deep and distant. If a person’s heart does not contain the deeper meaning of the bell, it is the same as not having reverence for a Buddha. If one is not sincere, how can he take on the duty of ringing the bell?” Hearing these words the monk felt ashamed. Thereafter, he cultivated with additional concentration and finally became an outstanding monk.
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