The Two Monks and the Monster

My daughter and I sometimes read a book together that is a collection of fairy tales and mythologies from around the world. Not long ago, we read a story thats message struck a chord in me, and I still think about it today.

The Two Monks and the Monster

One day, two monks were walking along a road. These monks were holy men, and their monastery had very strict rules. They were not allowed to eat meat, could not marry, owned no possessions, and were not allowed to carry any money. There were rules about when they should eat, when they should sleep, and even rules about who they could touch and talk with. For example, they were not to speak with young unmarried women, nor were they allowed to touch anything unclean.

The weather was fine and the monks were enjoying their walk. One of the monks was much older than the other, and as they walked, they did not talk. Instead they meditated on the beauty of the world as they strolled along the edge of a rushing stream.

As they continued walking, they eventually came upon a diseased woman that was laying alongside the stream. The woman was hideous. Her eyes sunken into their sockets oozed some strange substance, and the stench of her rotting flesh was almost unbearable. Her body was covered with sores and decaying corpuscles, and her fingers and toes had all but rotted away.

As soon as they saw the woman, the younger monk shrieked loudly and turned to run away. The older monk put a hand on the younger one's shoulder.

"Master," said the young monk, "We must get out of here, or else this diseased monster will be the death of us."

"You have missed something," said the older monk. "Look closer."

The young monk stayed where he was and shivered. He managed to turn his head and look at the woman, and everything he saw repulsed him. Her skin was splitting and decaying in some places, and covered with a slimy substance in others. And the smell! It was like the stench that one encounters after discovering an animal has died in the cellar.

"I can't see anything," he said at last.

"She is crying," said the older monk. The old man stepped forward. The younger monk tried to hold him back, but the old man shrugged him off. "What is the matter?" the older monk asked.

"I can't cross the stream," croaked the woman, in a truly disgusting voice. "I have to see my family one last time before I leave this life, but the stream is too fast. There used to be a bridge, but it has been washed away."

"That's too bad," said the younger monk. He took the older monk's sleeve and gave it a tug. "Let's get out of here!"

"May I help you?" the older monk asked the diseased woman.

"How could you possibly help me?" cried the woman. Her voice filled with despair.

"We could carry you across," said the older monk. "You don't look too heavy, and I have this young fellow here to help me."

The woman shifted her gaze towards the older monk. "Oh, would you?" she gurgled. "that would be so kind."

"Yes, yes, far too kind," said the younger monk. "We really ..."

"Silence!" ordered the older monk.

"But she might infect us!" said the younger.

The young monk saw that further protest was useless. With a little effort, they carefully lifted the leprous woman. Grunting and moaning the whole way, the young monk led, and the old monk took the rear. It was rough going in the tumultuous stream. The water rushed by quickly and was very cold. The rocks were wet and slippery sometimes, and sharp at others.

"We're going to die," thought the young monk. "Even if the river fails to kill us, contact with this wretched creature will doom us through exposure...."

At last the two monks and their rotting slimy passenger reached the far side of the stream. The monks gently lowered the woman down, and she opened her mouth.

"Thank you," wheezed the woman. "You are kind souls." And with that, she began dragging herself off towards the road.

The two monks recrossed the stream, taking care to wash themselves thoroughly --- getting all the blood and ooze and slime off took awhile. At last they were back on the grass, walking along in the warm sun, and drying off.

The younger monk was furious. He tried to meditate, tried to pay attention to the birds in the trees, but he no longer saw them. Instead he just got angrier and angrier. At last, they stopped under a shade tree for a break. The older monk sat down calmly and began to meditate. The younger one threw himself down with a thump. At last he spoke.

"How can you just sit there? I can't believe you even talked with her. She could have been the death of us! You made me carry her all the way across the stream. We're not supposed to touch unmarried women, let alone a disgusting monster like her. And look at you, you're far too old to be playing the hero, what if we had slipped in the stream and the undertow had pulled you away and drowned you? How would I explain that to everyone back at the monastery!?"

With a deep sigh, the older monk slowly opened his eyes and focused on the young man. After a few moments of consideration, the older monk replied. "Yes, I carried her across the stream. But I left her on the other shore. You, have carried her all this way as if she is still with us."


Though this is just a child's tale, it contains many different messages. I hope you all enjoyed it.

Categories: anxiety, fear, helping, judgment, kindness, respect, selflessness

The Tale of a Snail on a Trail

It had been raining for three days. When finally the clouds parted and the Sun returned to warm our way, we decided to visit one of our favorite trails for a much needed walk through the woods. The dirt and trees had that smell about them. That sweet, damp, earthy stench that fills your nostrils like wet pine needles, cooled by a Spring breeze, dancing through the dew of an older world. Reverently, we made our way along the twisting trail, relishing the dwarfed sense one has when walking among giants. This is our sanctuary, noble nurturer, and we her children, paying homage to the creator.

After some time, we averted our focus from the primeval and shifted our gaze downward, toward the beaten track which showed signs of another having passed through , not long before us. On closer inspection we discovered that the trail was littered with snails and slugs slowly crossing from one side to the other. Embedded in several of the footprints were the squashed carcasses of these gentle creatures. Their peaceful existence, arbitrarily ended with random abruptness. Then a thought occurred to me. How many had we stepped on, without knowing, without realizing they were even there.

Why had we not taken the time to be more aware of our surroundings? All this would be respect, this so called declaration of desire to tread lightly so as to not disrupt the delicate balance of life, and death. So busy looking at the trees, and listening to the sweet songs that filled the air, we were blinded to the destructive potential dancing beneath our every step. With a new found delicacy, we carefully continued our trek, knowing that we must now accept the responsibility of our actions, and we must not repeat our mistake.

Categories: Awareness, Mistakes, Respect, Responsibility, Tread Lightly

Social Mobility: Fact or Myth?

Growing up in the United States, we are all familiar with the term “The American Dream.” From a very young age, most of us are told by our parents that we can grow up to be anything we want. Our government encourages us to “be all you can be,” and many of us believe that if we just work hard enough, want it bad enough, rhetoric such as “the land of opportunity” is applicable. However, if we peel away the propaganda, and strip the issues down to the bare bones reality of contemporary social structure, a different truth emerges. What we see is that as time passes, fewer and fewer individuals find themselves experiencing the “American Dream,” and regardless of how hard they work, how diligently they apply themselves, there are barriers in our society that are designed to impede their progress each step of the way. Yet there are those who would argue that this is just not the case. Through the use of data gathered via questionnaires, and sociological research, it is my intention to juxtapose the views and experiences of the average American citizen against the realities of social mobility, and determine to what degree social mobility is possible in our society.

One of the primary ways to measure social mobility is to look at specific families, and trace occupational movement traveled from one generation to the next. Furthermore, by comparing what level of education allowed them to attain said occupation, we can form a clearer picture in terms of overall movement or lack thereof. Considering that we are measuring a person's ability to pursue "The American Dream," the focus here will be on how many people achieved entrepreneurial, or self employment, based on education vs generation. Among the people surveyed, approximately 70% stated that their grandfathers did not finish high school. Twenty percent reported their grandfather had a high school education, with the remaining 10% having attended some form of secondary school. Interestingly, despite their lack of education when measured by today’s standards, 36% of our grandparents generation were owners and proprietors of their own businesses. A figure which, according to a recent study put together by Harris Inte