“Come now, students,” Bizah’s Master said. “Gather around for our second lesson of the day.”

The students gathered, and the Master began: “I want to tell you of a man who was heavily burdened. Every day he walked bent over for long distances with two sacks of flour on his back and a long heavy coil wrapped around and dangling from his waist. In one hand he held a bag of birdseed and in the other a bag of stones.”

“Why would he do something so foolish as to burden himself like that?” asked Tonga.

“That’s the right question, Tonga,” said the Master. “Why do you think?”

“Master, when I go to the market every other week, there is one fruit merchant who is always so much busier than the others, even though he sells the same fruit. Is there a reason so many more buy from him?”

“Well, Bizah, do you also buy your fruit from him instead of from the other fruit merchants?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because he is always so friendly and present with me – even when I buy just one piece of fruit. So I go away feeling good.”

Bizah was particularly quiet one day. Noticing this, the Master went up to him and asked, “Is anything bothering you, Bizah?”

It was one of those sunny days when the Master decided that his students needed some fresh air, to be in nature, and to get some exercise. The group set off early in the morning for the hike. The students walked together in an organic moving community led by the Master who was about ten paces ahead.

On and on they walked, taking a break only for lunch. As the sun was starting to fall, they knew their day of trekking was soon to be over. But just then, they came to a very steep hill that seemed to go on for a mile.

“Master, why don’t you ever tell us stories about when you were young like us too?  What were your adventures, your delights, your challenges? Who were your friends and what were they like?”

“Bizah, I don’t go to the past these days unless I need to do so. I find that I have all I need right now, here in the present moment, to teach you what I have learned and you still need to learn.”

“Also, that young boy I was no longer exists – except in memory, which can be sweet but also distorting.”

“When will I be ready to be of real service to others, Master?”

“Look at that plum tree, Bizah.  It is not yet ready to produce its plums.  It knows that for now, it needs to take in nourishment from the air, the ground, the sun.  Then in the right season and at the right time, it will be able to produce many plums for others.

Bizah and Tonga had finished with their schooling and chores for the day, so they decided to sit down by the lake.

Tonga was the first to break the silence.

“Bizah,” he said, “my sister just lost her husband and is in the deepest grief imaginable. She is in anguish night and day. She says she doesn’t want to be here anymore, doesn’t want to go on living alone without her husband.”

Bizah put his good saffron robe to the side and donned a shorter white one. He took off his sandals and dug his toes into the ground. He was ready to get running.

The fifteen minutes were tough for him from start to finish. All he could do was think about not tripping, how much his knees hurt and his lungs burned.

When he got back he was met by his Master who was smiling. “Bizah, I hear that you are now exercising your body every day.”

“Master,” asked Bizah, “what does it mean to surrender to life?”

“What would you do if you were given a beautiful bowl as a gift?” replied his Master.

“Why, accept it, of course,” said Bizah.

“And if you were given an invitation to a wedding party?”

“ Accept that too.”

“And if you broke your leg?”

“I guess once it was broken,” said Bizah reluctantly, “I would have to accept it and try to make the best of it.”

“Would you accept it in the same way you did the gift and the invitation?”

“Okay, students,” the Zen Master said. “Today I have another quiz for you. What is the closest thing to you at this time?”

“This desk,” said Tonga.

“This pen,” said Baton.

“The ring I am wearing,” said Leela.

“No, none of you are correct,” responded the Master.

“Hmmm,” said Leela. “Could it be our hands and feet?”

“Very good, Leela,” said the Master. “You are getting close.”

“Master, there is nothing closer to us than our hands and feet,” said Bizah.

“Oh?” questioned the Master. “Close your eyes and sit in stillness now.”

Five, ten, then fifteen minutes passed.