Zen Parable #53

"The Magician and the Prince"

Once upon a time in a faraway kingdom there lived a bright young prince who believed in all things but three. He did not believe in volcanos, he did not believe in princesses, and he did not believe in God.

One clear summer day, under a sky as blue as corydalis, the prince took his horse on a long, long ride, beyond the boundaries of his father's vast dominions. Near the summit of a high mountain he met a strange old man. This foreigner spoke to the prince of his own homeland, near the volcanoes, among gentlemen and beautiful princesses.

The prince did not believe these stories, so he demanded to see proof. With the old man, he traveled for another day until they passed a pair of princesses on the road, and later climbed to the rim of a volcano.

The prince hurried home on his steed, and ran straight to the king. "Father! I have seen volcanos! I have seen princesses! I have seen God!"

"But son," the king replied, "volcanos, princesses and God do not exist."

"I saw them!"

"Tell me what God looked like." So the prince described the long beard and the unusual hat as he remembered them. The king sat back and laughed. "You have described a magician. You did not meet God. You were fooled. The princesses and volcanos were simply illusions."

Disappointed, the prince hopped right back on his horse to cross the hills and find the old man. "You lied to me," he said. "My father is the king and he has explained your tricks. There are no volcanos and there are no princesses."

"Aha," said the old man. "I haven't tricked you. There are volcanos and princesses in your kingdom as well, but you can't see them because you are under your father's spell. For he is a magician as well."

When the prince returned home again, he looked his father in the eyes and asked him, "Is it true, father, what they say? That you are not a real king, but just a magician?"

"Yes, son, I am only a magician."

"So the man in the faraway land really was God."

"No son, that man was just another magician."

"But I must know the real truth, beyond magic."

"But there is no truth beyond magic," said the king.

At this the prince sunk his head in despair and declared, "I will kill myself."

So the king used his magic and called on Death to appear. The prince trembled in fear. His thoughts then returned to the incredible volcanos, and especially to the beautiful princesses.

"Alright then," he said. "I can bear it."

"Very good, my son," said the king. "You too are becoming a magician!"

(based on a story by John Fowles)

May all your holiday dreams come true this year! Best wishes from Bambu Batu, where fashion and philosophy converge.

Zen you can count on

Among Western laymen, few realize the full breadth of knowledge commanded by an accomplished Zen master. We may appreciate their expertise in the subtleties of the medical, the physical and the metaphysical, yet much of their insight in matters more mundane gets overlooked.

Consider the lesson of one Zen master on the basic subject of arithmetic. He presents his students with this simple story.

"In our village, there once lived this man," the teacher begins. "He had five hundred dollars, and over the course of his life he gave away four hundred dollars. How much money did the man have when he died?"

Quickly and confidently, the students reply, "One hundred dollars!"

"No," says the teacher, "you are mistaken. It might look that way, but the deeper truth is that if he had five hundred dollars here on Earth and gave away four hundred, then at his death he would have had four hundred dollars. Because in the end, all you have is what you have given."

Song of the Day: "The End" by The Beatles.

Om is where the Heart is

Considering the rich foundation of Eastern and esoteric philosophy which underpins both our business model and our way of life, the imagery of Zen, Buddhism and ancient India are virtually inescapable at the House of Bamboo.

Few can overlook the wisdom of our inspirational scrolls imparting the words of timeless teachers like Lao Tzu, Rumi, and the Dalai Lama, as well as Einstein, Mother Teresa and Henry James. But not every Central Coast resident, central valley tourist, or Cal Poly engineering student is so intimately familiar with the subtleties of the Tao or the sensitivities of the Vedas.

One the most ubiquitous symbols of Eastern mythology, the Om, appears in tapestries, jewelry, clothing and all manner of yoga accessories. These days most people will recognize it, but not everyone can identify it, and even fewer can identify with it. For each person who asks, there's surely a dozen more who wonder, "What is the meaning of this symbol?"

Volumes have been written about this sacred syllable, in the ancient Hindu texts as well as by more modern sages and comparative scholars like Joseph Campbell. Traditionally, this humming sound, written as either Aum or Om, is chanted as a mantra before and/or after the reading of holy vedic scriptures or the practice of yoga. Essentially, it is meant to represent the singularity of the cosmos, the single unifying sound of the universe and all its resonation. One might read it to mean the name of god, or even the voice of god (god in the very non-Western sense, that is).

Not unlike the New Testament divinity, however, this single Indian syllable can also be divided into three parts: a-u-m. These three phonemes are variously believed to represent the Hindu Trimurti, the Indian trinity of gods, i.e. Brahma (creator), Vishnu (maintainer) and Shiva (destroyer or transformer); or the three stages of life, i.e. birth, life and death. From this point, the range of interpretation is almost unlimited. Many, for example, believe in a vital fourth element: the silence which follows the a-u-m.

Invoked in conjunction with prayer, yoga or meditation, this sacred syllable has a phenomenal capacity to elevate the practitioner's state of consciousness, to transcend the world of the mundane and material, to open new doors of spiritual understanding, and enter the depths of the universal mind. So clear a little floor space or find a nice patch of grass and try for yourself. Who says you can't go Om again?

Song of the Day: Donovan's "There is a Mountain"

Everything Flows

As we prepare for the major undertaking of relocating the House of Bamboo, it's a good time to pause and reflect on the fact — sometimes hard to swallow — that everything is always in a state of flux. Or as the ancient Greeks were wont to say, "Pantha rhei," that is, everything flows. And as other philosophers have pointed out, "The more things change, the more they remain the same." The Tao, like a steady stream, is in constant motion, permanent transition.

Consider the following story, about a boy, the son of a hardworking peanut farmer in the inner Shandong province. One autumn, at the annual harvest festival, the young lad is awarded a handsome young horse for having grown the largest peanut in all the province, some eight inches in length.

The boy gallops back to his village at top speed and shares the great news with his family and friends. Hearing the story and admiring the healthy steed, the boy's father proclaims, "This is truly marvelous! What good fortune you've brought on our family."

Overhearing this brief exchange, the local Zen master nods his head and surmises, "We'll see."

Over the course of weeks, the boy and his horse become inseparable companions. Productivity on the farm increases; the family is in high spirits. But one night, in a fierce storm, the horse gets spooked by thunder, breaks loose and disappears. The boy is devastated and grief stricken. "Oh, what a disaster," his father declares.

Looking on, the Zen master scratches his chin and mutters, "We'll see."

Another week goes by, and one morning the horse is seen coming over the hillside, returning to the farm with a new mare at his side. The boy and his family are ecstatic. "What wonderful news, son!" "Yes, daddy, everything is awesome now!"

The Zen master, hearing the commotion, raises his eyebrows. "We'll see."

The boy now spends all his spare time — getting up early and staying out late — working in the stables to break in his new mare. She's a healthy mount, but stubborn too. One evening after supper, the boy takes her on a run across the field. In the dim twilight she grazes an irrigation ditch and throws the boy from his saddle. A small crowd has gathered when the village doctor arrives. He makes a splint for the boy's leg which has been broken. "He'll walk again, but I'm afraid he'll always have a limp."

"Oh, what rotten luck," says the father. And the Zen master sighs, "We'll see."

Another year passes, and kingdom is now in turmoil. Mongol hordes are raiding many of the provincial villages, and the emperor is recruiting soldiers from the countryside. When they come to the farm of the boy, now a young man, he is exempted from military service on account of his limp. "Oh, thank heavens!" his mother declares.

The Zen master, observing from a distance, just shrugs his shoulders and mumbles, "We'll see."

Mind is the Forerunner of All Things

It is a fundamental tenet of far eastern philosophy that the mind is the forerunner of all things. The idea echoes in the words of the Buddha, above. Shakespeare, too, in all his Elizabethan wisdom, was well versed in this universal truth. “It is neither good nor bad, but thinking makes it so.” From the tradition of Zen Buddhism comes a parable, much older if not as well-known as Hamlet, which illustrates this point with profound clarity.

This is the story of another young prince, traversing the countryside in search of glory, romance and adventure. Having crossed rivers, climbed mountains, and made his way through deserts and forests, the young man finds himself nearly exhausted, as he treks over the sun-baked prairies of a high plateau. In need of shade and relief, he comes to a lone elm tree under which he takes his much needed respite.

After a short nap, he wakes up feeling rested, recharged and most contented. Then he thinks to himself, "After all this hiking, I could sure use something cold to drink." And looking over his shoulder, he sees on the rock beside him, a great pitcher of ice-cold jasmine tea.

"Oh, how wonderful," he says, and draws a long draft from the pitcher. For a good half hour or so, he enjoys himself in the cool shade, sipping from his tea and listening to the rustle of elm trees.

"This is truly idyllic," he reflects, "but I could really use a bite to eat." And just as he looks down, he notices a picnic blanket all laid out with a full spread of spring rolls, noodles, sauces, tempura and rice. "Fantastic!" he marvels, and quickly dives in. "This is just what I needed. Now I'm completely satisfied."

After a good hour of feasting away on all manner of delicacies and quenching his thirst with refreshing jasmine tea, it occurs to him that he'd be much happier if he had some company here to share in these pleasures. And just as he thinks this, a lovely young maiden strolls across the prairie and joins him under the shade of the great elm tree. He offers her a cup of tea and bowl of sustenance. Soon they are laughing and smiling, and before long they are making passionate love in the rolling grass.

By now the young man is feeling perfectly contented. His belly is full, and he wears a wide smile on his face. He and his partner rise and see that the sun is getting low. Wondering what they'll do as it gets dark, he thinks how nice it would be to have a small cabin with some furniture and a bed and blankets. No sooner does this thought enter his mind than a small cabin appears before them. So the two walk inside and make themselves at home.

Sitting by the window watching the sun set, the young man turns to his tender companion. "There's something very strange about all of this. Ever since I arrived under this elm, each of my thoughts has been effortlessly fulfilled. I'm beginning to worry that this tree may be cursed."

And just as he utters these words, the majestic elm transforms into a giant goblin and swallows them both.

More from Mohandas

Following our recent post about Gandhi's commentary on cotton commerce between India and her British Imperial masters, we had a number of requests for more sagacious words from the Great One.

So today we impart to you Gandhi's Seven Social Sins:

* Wealth without Work
* Pleasure without Conscience
* Science without Humanity
* Knowledge without Character
* Politics without Principle
* Commerce without Morality
* Worship without Sacrifice


We've also had a surge of requests for Gandhi related Limericks, so I give you this:

There’s a march from Ahmedabad to Dandi
Where the Indian beaches are sandy
          They made their own salt
          And were ordered to halt
But orders meant nothing to Gandhi

Gandhi on the Economy of Cotton

The picture above shows Mahatma Gandhi spinning his own cotton in protest of British Imperialism, similar to the more famous demonstration where he and his followers collected their own salt on the beaches of Dandi (Salt Satyagraha) in 1930.

Gandhi also made the following observations about the economics of Indian cotton and the systematic exploitation of Indian for her raw materials under British rule.

Step 1: English people buy Indian cotton in the field, picked by Indian labor at seven cents a day, through an optional monopoly.

Step 2: This cotton is shipped on British ships, a three-week journey across the Indian Ocean, down the Red Sea, across the Mediterranean, through Gibraltar, across the Bay of Biscay and the Atlantic Ocean to London. One hundred per cent profit on this freight is regarded as small.

Step 3: The cotton is turned into cloth in Lancashire. You pay shilling wages instead of Indian pennies to your workers. The English worker not only has the advantage of better wages, but the steel companies of England get the profit of building the factories and machines. Wages; profits; all these are spent in England.

Step 4: The finished product is sent back to India at European shipping rates, once again on British ships. The captains, officers, sailors of these ships, whose wages must be paid, are English. The only Indians who profit are a few lascars who do the dirty work on the boats for a few cents a day.

Step 5: The cloth is finally sold back to the kings and landlords of India who got the money to buy this expensive cloth out of the poor peasants of India who worked at seven cents a day.

(Fisher, F.B., 1932 That Strange Little Brown Man Gandhi, New York: Ray Long & Richard Smith, Inc.)

Being Here Now

Be Here Now. That's our motto here at Bambu Batu. Not that we made it up, of course. Ram Dass brought the slogan and the way of life to popular attention with his best-selling book in 1971. Now, we see Eckhart Tolle running with the same theme in his recent series of soul-searching self-help books, drawing a massive, fervent following.

The essence of "Be Here Now" means not to dwell in the past or fret about the future, but to live in the moment. By focussing on the present moment, in deep meditation, one can discover the bliss of eternal life sought by every religion since the dawn of man.

This concept lies at the heart of eastern philosophy, to which bamboo lovers frequently adhere. Here are a few passages from western literature which express the "Be Here Now" ideology.

To see a world in a grain of sand,
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.
~William Blake (1757-1827)


"Be Present"
The past and the future are one and the same
To believe otherwise is a short-sighted game
          Outside of uncertainty
          Right now is eternity
The light of a pure and perpetual flame

"The Uncarved Block"
I feel like it’s better to listen than talk
And faster to run, though it’s wiser to walk
          A field to be tilled
          Or a cup yet unfilled
This is the way of the unsculpted rock
~The Granola Poet (1973-)