A story in the Daily Star (UK) runs with the headline: “Homeless man has lived under noisy dual carriageway ‘like a hermit’ for 11 years.” The item is not unusual for a tabloid, conjuring up another story about a crazy man readers can gloat about with a thump, telling themselves they are glad and pleased not to be that madman. Not that the subject is conscious of some moral purpose or pretense. Or that he isn’t mad.
The item is a reminder of a Japanese Zen story about Tosui (among many sources is Zen Flesh, Zen Bones, compiled by Paul Reps and Nyogen Senzaki, first published in 1957). The story gives a dramatic twist to virtue, strength, mindfullness. Plus, it’s a good story.
An old Zen master [Tosui] had grown weary of instructing monks and announced his retirement. He did not indicate to anyone what he intended to do or where he intended to go, but a novice student pursued him and asked. The master looked dubiously at the young inquirer. The master told him that he was going tolive under a bridge, and with that the master grabbed a few things for his bag and left. The novice followed him, saying “I intend to follow you.” The master looked back, scoffing, and turned to make his way.
After some time the master reached the bridge in the middle of the city, which was crowded with poor and lost souls. The master walked about, surveying the homeless, abandoned, half-crazed, confused, and desperate, but also noticing quiet, pensive, studied faces, some scrutinizing him fearlessly. The novice tagged dutifully behind. At last, the old master found an unoccupied spot and settled his few belongings. The novice sat next to him, conspicuously quiet, his large eyes looking about in a mixture of curiosity and terror. The darkness of evening was descending quickly,and so, too, the chilly air. The master wrapped himself in his old cloak and lay down, telling the novice that he was going to sleep. The novice was still looking around him, wide-eyed, fear etched in his face. Slowly, the scene settled, as men moved to their spots beneath the bridge and became motionless in the dark. The novice noticed that the old master had forgotten to eat. Or did not intend to do so, though the novice felt at one moment keen hunger, another a great nausea.
Hours later, daylight was breaking. The homeless under the bridge began to stir, a few at a time. The old master was among them. The novice slept, exhausted. The master looked at the man next to them. He was not moving, but the old master noticed that the man’s face was trapped in a grimace. The old master came nearer, and realized that the man had died overnight. The novice was stirring and pulling himself to a sitting posture. He was stil very uncomfortable, and still looked around himself warily. The old master noticed. “Ah, you are still here!” he said to the novice.”I was sure you would have returned to the monastery by now.”
The novice smiled wanly, searching the master’s eyes for comfort. “See here,” announced the master. “This fellow here, who slept a few feet from us, is quite dead. We will have to bury him shortly. And look! He has left us a half-eaten bowl of rice, no doubt his unfinished dinner. A bit cold, but here, young novice, let’s have breakfast.”
With that the novice wretched and heaved. “Bah!” said the master angrily. “I told you you were no good for this life. Now, go, back to the monastery with you! Get out! And make sure you tell no one that I am here.” And with that the young novice fled.
URL: https://www.dailystar.co.uk/news/homeless-man-lived-under-noisy-22868139