In an ancient Buddhist monastery in china, there was to be a competition to decide who follows in the master’s footsteps. Each monk that wished to come forward was to write a poem showing his understanding of Zen. The most advanced student, whom everyone expected to win, wrote the following:
The body is the Bodhi Tree
The mind like a bright mirror standing
Take care to wipe it all the time
And allow no dust to cling.
There was another student though, an uneducated peasant who, next day, wrote this:
There never was a Bodhi Tree
Nor bright mirror standing
Fundamentally, not one thing exists
So where is the dust to cling?
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