His heart rate was perilously low, his brain waves disoriented. The monk continued to think of 'standing' - as his master had asked. The frozen lake was taking its toll on monk's body. Standing waist deep, he could not feel his lower body. Cold moved inside his veins like tiny iced-needles, piercing him at will and without jurisdiction. He focused - with hands joined in prayer, eyes closed, he waited for Buddha. The master had finally given him the secret - all the monk had to do was to stand meditating in the frozen lake and Buddha would come; Nirvana would come.
It was no easy task: meditating waist deep in freezing water. Between those focused moments, his mind would wander more than he wanted. It would think of the body that stood dangerously close to death. Sometime, it would flash the sights of the long, arduous journey he had taken to reach the Lake of Kali. Those gazing women of the villages he passed; the kings who welcomed him and his great master; the poor farmer offering them their only morsels of food. But all those were only minor distractions. Most, and often, his mind wandered to Buddha. The serenity in bronze, those elegantly elongated ear lobes, and the orderly curls of hairs tied together. It was the closed eyes he lingered on most. Inside the peaceful eye-lids, they hid secrets of existence and salvation, happiness and the true meaning of it, the illusions and torments of mortal life, and that road that was only for a chosen few to be revealed... The monk forced his mind back: the eyes were dangerous, his master had told him. He only had to think of standing. This was his last chance. If he didn't get Buddha now, he would never will.
*
"Have you ever seen Buddha?" his master had asked, after he had persuaded the monk to try one last time.
"Years ago," the monk had replied. "He stood in front of me. His eyes were closed. His open palm faced me. We stood in a dark cave whose roof couldn't be seen. We stood atop pillars. Between them was a dark, unending abyss. I flew with Buddha, pillar to pillar. The cave never ended, until my mind came back to the present."
"What did you do then?"
"I sat meditating again. I forced my mind. But he didn’t come. It has been so many years. It feels like Buddha would never come to me again," the monk sighed. "Why did he do it? Why come to me once and leave me with this torment for the rest of my mortal life?"
The answer, the master had said, lies in the Lake of Kali.
*
The monk had difficulty breathing now. His lungs felt encased in blocks of stone, which didn't let them expand. The monk didn't let his mind wander.
*
"What will the lake teach me, master?" the monk had asked, standing in front of the Lake of Kali, watching its vast ends disappear in moving walls of mist.
"Nothing that you don't already know," the master said with a smile. "Remember, the only thought you can harbor is about standing there. Buddha will come to you."
The monk had looked at his master's serene face incredulously. "You must trust your master. May The Creation be with you," the master had said and vanished.
*
As if his mind was frozen, the monk didn't think of anything but standing. A thin layer of ice covered him till his neck. Breathing was laborious. His body trembled, his finger tips frozen to a rock. Then he heard a white swan sing. His time had come. He thanked his master, took his last breath, and fell face down on the frozen lake.
The cave appeared again. And in there, was Buddha with closed eyes. The monk stood, hands joined, body frozen, but the shiver was gone. Buddha smiled, opened his eyes to him. He looked in those eyes and took a deep breath; felt his lungs break that shackle of stone and expand as if he would've been living.
When his eyes opened, he found himself sitting with the master. The master smiled. He knew.
"But I have a questions?" the monk said. All his weariness had vanished. He felt reborn. He continued, "Why today?"
"Because today you didn't want him," the master said. The monk didn't understand. The master continued, "Every time you meditated, you did it with the desire of Buddha, of Nirvana. You bound yourself to a desire, and asked for freedom. That is something that The Creation cannot grant you. In the lake, I asked you to stand and meditate in the frozen lake and to think only about standing - only about what you were doing. And not about Buddha, not about what you wanted. The result is simply not yours to control. It is only your action that you control."
The monk interfered, "But we are monks. We are liberated from material desires of a common man. It is the search of Buddha that liberates us from there. Why can't I want him?"
"Monk or mundane, our bodies crave a desire. The body is not needed if you don't desire anything. Be it Nirvana. Being a monk doesn't make us separate from a worldly man. And like a worldly man, when we attach our actions to the desire of a result, the result eludes us. It stops us from giving our best. It stops us from achieving what we wanted in the first place. And when that happens, our minds are trapped in an unavoidable sadness."
"So that was my mistake - wanting to see Buddha each time I closed my eyes?"
"Yes. Buddha is no destination. You don't leave this body the moment you achieve it. The body has to go on until destined. Nirvana, when achieved, becomes the driving force of this body for the rest of it’s time. Nirvana - freedom! It is the freedom from desire of a result. It is the fact that a man - worldly or monk - must focus on his actions, and true happiness would follow. Liberation would follow. Another master had said - a man must be like a good bonfire, one that completely burns the wood and leaves nothing but light, warmth and ashes. In his actions, a man must consume himself without thinking of anything else."
The monk had one last question: "Does it mean that a monk meditating in the Himalayas is no different than a man sitting in an air-conditioned office?"
The master answered, "The monk is no different to a worldly man. What applies to a monk, applies to a common man. But a worldly man is different to a monk. He does not know what a monk knows - the secret of Nirvana. The moment he finds the secret, the difference disappears without him having to leave his world like you and me did."
The monk smiled and closed his eyes. The air smelled of arriving spring. He had his body to turn into a good bonfire.
It was no easy task: meditating waist deep in freezing water. Between those focused moments, his mind would wander more than he wanted. It would think of the body that stood dangerously close to death. Sometime, it would flash the sights of the long, arduous journey he had taken to reach the Lake of Kali. Those gazing women of the villages he passed; the kings who welcomed him and his great master; the poor farmer offering them their only morsels of food. But all those were only minor distractions. Most, and often, his mind wandered to Buddha. The serenity in bronze, those elegantly elongated ear lobes, and the orderly curls of hairs tied together. It was the closed eyes he lingered on most. Inside the peaceful eye-lids, they hid secrets of existence and salvation, happiness and the true meaning of it, the illusions and torments of mortal life, and that road that was only for a chosen few to be revealed... The monk forced his mind back: the eyes were dangerous, his master had told him. He only had to think of standing. This was his last chance. If he didn't get Buddha now, he would never will.
*
"Have you ever seen Buddha?" his master had asked, after he had persuaded the monk to try one last time.
"Years ago," the monk had replied. "He stood in front of me. His eyes were closed. His open palm faced me. We stood in a dark cave whose roof couldn't be seen. We stood atop pillars. Between them was a dark, unending abyss. I flew with Buddha, pillar to pillar. The cave never ended, until my mind came back to the present."
"What did you do then?"
"I sat meditating again. I forced my mind. But he didn’t come. It has been so many years. It feels like Buddha would never come to me again," the monk sighed. "Why did he do it? Why come to me once and leave me with this torment for the rest of my mortal life?"
The answer, the master had said, lies in the Lake of Kali.
*
The monk had difficulty breathing now. His lungs felt encased in blocks of stone, which didn't let them expand. The monk didn't let his mind wander.
*
"What will the lake teach me, master?" the monk had asked, standing in front of the Lake of Kali, watching its vast ends disappear in moving walls of mist.
"Nothing that you don't already know," the master said with a smile. "Remember, the only thought you can harbor is about standing there. Buddha will come to you."
The monk had looked at his master's serene face incredulously. "You must trust your master. May The Creation be with you," the master had said and vanished.
*
As if his mind was frozen, the monk didn't think of anything but standing. A thin layer of ice covered him till his neck. Breathing was laborious. His body trembled, his finger tips frozen to a rock. Then he heard a white swan sing. His time had come. He thanked his master, took his last breath, and fell face down on the frozen lake.
The cave appeared again. And in there, was Buddha with closed eyes. The monk stood, hands joined, body frozen, but the shiver was gone. Buddha smiled, opened his eyes to him. He looked in those eyes and took a deep breath; felt his lungs break that shackle of stone and expand as if he would've been living.
When his eyes opened, he found himself sitting with the master. The master smiled. He knew.
"But I have a questions?" the monk said. All his weariness had vanished. He felt reborn. He continued, "Why today?"
"Because today you didn't want him," the master said. The monk didn't understand. The master continued, "Every time you meditated, you did it with the desire of Buddha, of Nirvana. You bound yourself to a desire, and asked for freedom. That is something that The Creation cannot grant you. In the lake, I asked you to stand and meditate in the frozen lake and to think only about standing - only about what you were doing. And not about Buddha, not about what you wanted. The result is simply not yours to control. It is only your action that you control."
The monk interfered, "But we are monks. We are liberated from material desires of a common man. It is the search of Buddha that liberates us from there. Why can't I want him?"
"Monk or mundane, our bodies crave a desire. The body is not needed if you don't desire anything. Be it Nirvana. Being a monk doesn't make us separate from a worldly man. And like a worldly man, when we attach our actions to the desire of a result, the result eludes us. It stops us from giving our best. It stops us from achieving what we wanted in the first place. And when that happens, our minds are trapped in an unavoidable sadness."
"So that was my mistake - wanting to see Buddha each time I closed my eyes?"
"Yes. Buddha is no destination. You don't leave this body the moment you achieve it. The body has to go on until destined. Nirvana, when achieved, becomes the driving force of this body for the rest of it’s time. Nirvana - freedom! It is the freedom from desire of a result. It is the fact that a man - worldly or monk - must focus on his actions, and true happiness would follow. Liberation would follow. Another master had said - a man must be like a good bonfire, one that completely burns the wood and leaves nothing but light, warmth and ashes. In his actions, a man must consume himself without thinking of anything else."
The monk had one last question: "Does it mean that a monk meditating in the Himalayas is no different than a man sitting in an air-conditioned office?"
The master answered, "The monk is no different to a worldly man. What applies to a monk, applies to a common man. But a worldly man is different to a monk. He does not know what a monk knows - the secret of Nirvana. The moment he finds the secret, the difference disappears without him having to leave his world like you and me did."
The monk smiled and closed his eyes. The air smelled of arriving spring. He had his body to turn into a good bonfire.
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