I've been so busy with work lately that I hardly found time to connect with my "spiritual self" - and by spiritual, I don't suppose I mean a kind of God-ly spiritual, but just connecting with my "soul". In fact, I've stopped doing things I used to do for leisure, like watching movies (the last movie I watched was District 9 two days ago, and UP about a month ago prior to that), watching anime (gosh, i can't believe I missed all of those episodes!), listening to music (and the radio), etc...

But anyway, last night I couldn't fall asleep - stupid me decided to drink Teh Halia Ais at 10.30pm, and I was looking through the stuff that I left behind in Cambridge, and only just got shipped back this year, together with Allan's stuff. In the box of forgotten treasures, I found Paulo Coelho's (author of "The Alchemist") "Like the Flowing River", which is a series short stories of his thoughts and reflections. It really good food for the soul btw, cos it gets you thinking about the things around you.

Here's a bit of a Japanese story that he quoted from the chapter "The Importance of the Cat in Meditation".

A great Zen master, in charge of the monastery of Mayu Kagi, owned a cat, who was the real love of his life. During meditation classes, he always kept the cat by his side, in order to enjoy its company as much as possible.

One morning, the master, who was already quite old, was found dead. The oldest disciple took his place.

"What shall we do with the cat?" asked the other monks.

In homage to the memory of his former teacher, the new master decided to allow the cat to continue attending the classes on Zen Buddhism.

Some disciples from neighbouring monasteries, who travelled widely in the region, discovered that, in one of the most famous temples in the area, a cat took part in the meditations. The story began to spread.

Many years passed. The cat died, but the students at the monastery were so used to its presence that they acquired another cat. Meanwhile, other temples began introducing cats into their meditation classes; they believed that the cat was the one actually responsible for Mayu Kagi's fame, and for the quality of its teaching, forgetting what an excellent teacher the former master had been.

A generation passed, and technical treatises on the importance of the cat in Zen meditation began to be published. A university professor developed a thesis, accepted by the academic community, that the cat had the ability to increase human concentration and to eliminate negative energy.

And thus, for a century, the cat was considered an essential part of the study of Zen Buddhism in that region.

Then a master arrived who was allergic to cat hair, and he decided to remove the cat from his daily practices with the students.

Everyone protested, but the master insisted. Since he was a gifted teacher, the students continued to make progress, despite the cat's absence.

Gradually, monasteries - always in search of new ideas, and weary of having to feed so many cats - began to remove cats from the classroom. Over the next twenty years, revolutionary new theses were written, bearing persuasive titles like "The Importance of Meditation Without a Cat" or "Balancing the Zen Universe by the Power of One's Mind Alone and Without the AId of Animals".

Another century passed, and the cat vanished completely from the Zen meditation ritual in that region. But it took two hundred years for everything to return to normal, and all because, during that time, no one thought to ask why the cat was there.

I guess this is somewhat true in the society of today - we simply follow what others have done, and we're simply a society of copycats. :) Of course, if you remember my post some time back, you'd remember what I mentioned about the herd mentality.

For now though, I will read some more chapters of the book. :)

Labels: Life