The Wild Fox Cave

One day, the monks of the monastery gathered around their master, Xuěfēng Yìcún, who was seated on a rock, holding his staff in hand.

The monks were restless, for they had heard that Buddhism in China was on the verge of fading away.

One of them, an eager young monk, stepped forward and asked:

“Master, we travel from monastery to monastery, studying the scriptures and practicing meditation. Yet why do we feel so empty? Why does the path to enlightenment seem so distant?”

Xuěfēng looked at them and struck his staff on the ground.

“Look at yourselves, you grown-ups who travel to the ends of the earth! Wherever you go, when someone asks what’s wrong, you say hello, you say goodbye, you raise your eyebrows, you roll your eyes, you step forward and retreat. You spread this foul breath, and no sooner do you begin than you enter a wild fox cave!”

The monks exchanged confused glances. The young monk asked:

“What do you mean by a wild fox cave, Master?”

Xuěfēng’s gaze was piercing.

“You mistake the servant for the master and don’t know how to distinguish purity from impurity. You deceive yourselves, and at the end of your lives, you’ll be nothing more than a pack of wild foxes. Do you understand? How can this produce good people? You’ve received the protection of Shakyamuni Buddha, and yet you destroy his sacred legacy. All across China, Buddhism is dying before our eyes—and you bear part of the blame!”

An older monk dared to speak:

“But Master, we’re searching for the truth! We come to you to hear statements and sayings that will show us the way.”

Xuěfēng raised his staff as if to drive the monks away and shouted:

“You’re just a random gathering, a gang that’s ruining Buddhism! The ancients would call you people who reject wisdom. To attain realization, you need strength of character. Don’t keep running back to me, don’t depend on me, don’t seek my words! For a person of true character, that’s like making a fool of others. Do you even know what’s good and bad?”

The monks fell silent, ashamed and uncertain. But the young monk stepped closer and asked quietly:

“Master, how can we free ourselves from this delusion?”

Xuěfēng lowered his staff and spoke in a calm voice:

“You must reject what binds you—your self-deception, your dependence, your striving for external things. Return to yourselves. No one can save you but yourselves. The path is within you, not in my words.”

At that moment, a gust of wind arose, and the leaves of the bamboo grove rustled. The young monk felt a sudden clarity within himself. He bowed deeply to Xuěfēng without saying another word and set off to practice, determined to find the path within himself.

Xuěfēng watched him go and murmured:

“Perhaps there’s still hope after all.”