The Roshi And
The Peasant Woman
The Roshi sat in meditation
on a flat rock that lay on the summit of a hill.
The still air was cool, but pleasant.
Before and below him lay
the green forest canopy, partially shrouded in
cloud. Beyond rose the profile of Mount Fuji
– glowing orange with the reflected, early
morning sunlight.
An hour passed, and then
two.
The Roshi stretched his
muscles following his period of sitting
meditation, and, as he turned his head to one
side, he noticed a woman walking slowly up the
gravel track towards him.
He simply noted that a
woman was walking up the hill towards him –
nothing more.
The Roshi settled once more
and returned to his meditation.
The woman reached the place
where the Roshi sat and settled herself on the
flat rock a few feet away from him.
An hour passed.
‘Who are you?’
asked the woman.
The Roshi paused to
consider his response. ‘Bearing in mind our
current context,’ he gently replied, ‘I
am a Zen master, and I am the spiritual leader of
the monastery that you passed on your way up this
hill.’ He paused. ‘Who are you?’
the Roshi added in a spirit of politeness.
‘I am just a peasant,’
the woman replied.
An hour passed.
Both the Roshi and the
peasant woman gradually became aware of the sound
of footsteps on the gravel track, and the noise
of conversation, as a small party of villagers
trekked up the hill towards them.
The sounds of voices ceased
as the party drew near, and the sounds of
footsteps stopped as the group reached the
location where the Roshi and the peasant woman
sat.
‘Excuse me, Roshi,’
said one of the party.
The Roshi turned his head
towards them. ‘How can I assist you?’
he asked with politeness and warmth.
‘We have a complex
spiritual dilemma,’ the man continued,
‘and we wish to seek your guidance.’
‘What is your dilemma?’
asked the Roshi.
The man explained the issue
that had concerned the group.
The Roshi paused in thought
for many minutes and then offered his guidance.
‘Excuse me,’ said
the peasant woman when the Roshi had completed
his explanation. ‘Much of what the Roshi has
said is correct, but I believe that he is
mistaken on some points.’
Subdued laughter could be
heard from the group of villagers.
‘And what is your
guidance?’ asked one of the group with a
slight tone of scorn in his voice – perhaps
moderated by the presence of the Roshi.
The woman clarified the
points on which she felt the Roshi had been
mistaken.
The group of villagers
laughed – albeit, once more, in a subdued
manner. They then respectfully turned towards the
Roshi.
‘Thank you for your
guidance,’ said their leader, we will now
leave you.
The group turned and walked
silently away down the path in the direction from
which they had come.
An hour passed.
‘You were quite
correct,’ the Roshi said to the peasant
woman. ‘I was mistaken,’ he continued
– just stating this simple fact while
feeling no sense of embarrassment. ‘Thank
you for your guidance.’
‘You are very welcome,
Roshi,’ said the woman.
The midday sun shone
overhead – brightly illuminating the forest
canopy and the shoulders of Mount Fuji.
An hour passed.
‘The villagers have
not properly understood the solution to their
spiritual dilemma,’ said the peasant women.
‘Today they have
misunderstood,’ the Roshi replied, ‘but
one day they may realise that they must listen to,
and focus upon, the wisdom that is being spoken,
without reference to who might be saying it. That
is, perhaps, a much greater lesson.’
An hour passed.
The Roshi smiled as he
stood to begin his walk back towards the
monastery.
He turned to say goodbye to
the peasant woman, but noted – just noted,
nothing else – that she had already departed.
Image by Kanenori from Pixabay.
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