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

It was at the end of a training session,when a little time still remained — just enough for one last question. Master Weizhen looked around the room and spoke calmly: “Students, do you have any questions?But there is only time for one.” For a moment, there was silence. “No one has a question?” asked Weizhen. At last, Reifa raised a hand and said, “Master, I actually have many questions.” Weizhen nodded. “Then simply ask one of them.” Reifa fell silent, thinking…and thinking a

A student asked Master Zhuang: “Master, why do some choose the difficult pathwhen they could live comfortably in luxury?” Zhuangzi pointed to a heron walking through the marsh. “Do you see that bird over there?” “Yes, Master.” “He must take ten steps to find something to peck,and a hundred steps to find water to drink —and yet, he sings.” said Zhuangzi. The student asked: “And if someone feeds him?” Zhuangzi replied: “Then he stops singing.” The student asked again, “But why