Branching Streams

NUMBER 18

One day Senior Monk decided to travel to the Order’s mountain refuge.  Once there he established himself, made a fire in the wood cookstove, put away his supplies and considered his day. It was already late in the afternoon as the refuge was some ninety miles from the city.

The refuge was a large cabin built by himself and his teacher.  It was split log, had a loft, wood cookstove, pot-bellied stove, propane refrigerator and two bathrooms.  The refuge was off the grid, had no electricity, and was 13 miles deep into the forest. Senior monk practiced there as often as he could.

After a short repast of bread and cheese, he decided to hike to a stream a mile our so away.  As he walked, he kept thinking about the stream he was walking to.  It was a fast moving stream, and at one point divided into two.

“Now there’s the question, ‘Are they the same or different?’

After some tough climbing he finally arrived at the fork in the stream.  There, he placed his cushion, took up his robes, and sat down. The birds were quiet, as it was late in the day, but he could hear the buzzing of insects and felt the still hot sun on his face. Putting his palms together, a slight bow, then hands in the cosmic mudra, left hand cradled in right, he began to meditate.

“Are they the same or different? “he asked himself.

The divided streams were moving quite quickly across the rocky beds and the moving water offered a beautiful sound to Senior’s ears. Listening to the sounds of the streams, his mind opened and he had the distinct experience of following both streams simultaneously as they flowed down the mountain side. 

He saw them subdivide again and again and in each case his mind was able to see and follow each as they, too, flowed downhill. Just then a fly landed on his nose and just then he saw all the streams flow into a lake.

The question, he realized, was meaningless.