“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?”

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, you said that if I run long enough, I will come to the time when I feel I am being run. How is that?”

“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.

Bizah and the other Zen students were complaining about how hard their Master had been pushing them of late. They got together and decided someone had to tell the Master how they felt. But who should this person be?

Everyone was afraid to approach the Master. When no one volunteered for the task, they drew straws.

Alas, Bizah was the loser, so it was up to him.

The next day, just as their lesson time was coming to a close, Bizah stood up and bowed to his Master. Then he asked, “Master, may I tell you something?”

“Of course, Bizah.”

It  became a custom that, every Friday, Bizah prepared his Master a special soup. Several days in advance, Bizah planned what kind of soup he would make, then took a special trip to the market to purchase fresh ingredients.

Friday rolled around again, and at the appointed hour, Bizah carefully walked the hot bowl of soup over to his Master. Then he stood back, watching closely to see how his Master would react to the soup.

One  morning, Bizah went to his Master to admit he had just discovered that he had  been making up his bed incorrectly for the last four years.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, Bizah,” said the Master. “That way was the way to do it then. This is the way to do it now. You have been a student long enough to learn the better way. This makes me happy.”

Oh, Master, I wish I could already be enlightened like you!” exclaimed Bizah.

“The Master smiled then responded, “You already are, Bizah. You just won’t allow yourself to accept this.”

“Bizah, after three years with me, what is the most important thing you have learned?” asked his Master.

“To be grateful that I have had these three years with you, Master.”

“Very good,” responded the Master with a smile on his face.

“Master, when will I know that I have achieved my life purpose?” asked Bizah.

An unusually long silence passed between the Master and Bizah.

Then, slowly and with emphasis on each word, the Master responded, “When the notion of your life purpose no longer holds any meaning.”