Once there was a young monk whose soul was as restless as the waves of a storm-tossed sea. He had read much about “enlightenment” and heard that it was like a mighty wind that sweeps away the old and clears the soul. He wanted to possess this state at any cost. One night, when a powerful storm swept across the mountains, he ran out into the darkness. In his hands he carried a delicate paper lantern. He believed that if he ran fast enough and opened the lantern at just the rig

A monk asked the master:“If there is no self,why do you care for posture, breath, and the body?” The master took a simple clay bowl, rinsed it and placed it before the monk. The bowl was empty. The master went to the well, filled it with water and handed it to the monk. “Drink.” After the monk had drunk, the master turned the bowl upside down on the table. The master said: “Precisely because it is empty,it can hold clearly.” The monk asked: “And if it breaks?” The master repl

When Thich Nhat Hanh was still a young novice,one evening he was polishing the temple bell. The rain began — softly at first, then heavier. He listened as the drops fell on the roof, uneven yet harmonious in their rhythm. His hand moved in the same flow, his breath followed the sound. In that moment, everything merged —rain, sound, breath, movement. He no longer perceived any separation between himself and what was happening. There was only doing — and complete presence. Late