Puščavnik ob reki Kijotaki

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Puščavnik ob reki Kijotaki

Long ago, a monk built a brushwood hermitage deep in the valley of the Kiyotaki River and devoted himself to religious practice. Whenever he wanted water, he would send his water jar flying off to fetch it, and drink what it brought back. As the years passed, pride would sometimes stir in him, and he would think that surely no ascetic could equal him. Then one day a water jar came from somewhere upstream of his dwelling and drew water from the river. Wondering jealously who else could be performing such a feat, he resolved to find out. In due course the jar came flying down as usual, filled itself, and flew away. This time he followed it. After going fifty or sixty chō upstream, he caught sight of a hermitage. When he approached, he found a hut some three bays across, with a splendid separate hall for the worship of the resident’s personal image of the Buddha. It was truly an awe-inspiring, holy place, kept immaculately clean. A mandarin orange tree stood beside the hermitage, and beneath it a worn path showed where someone had walked in ritual meditation. Many discarded flowers lay heaped below the shelf for offerings of sacred water. Moss covered the paving stones, and everything had an air of boundless sanctity. Peering through a gap in the window, he saw many sutra scrolls on a desk, some lying partly unrolled. The smoke of perpetually burning incense filled the room. Looking more closely, he saw a venerable monk of seventy or eighty, asleep against an armrest with a five-pronged vajra in his hand. He decided to put this monk to the test. Creeping quietly closer, he invoked the Fire Realm mantra. Flames suddenly sprang up and caught the hermitage. Still asleep, the holy man took up a sprinkling wand, dipped it in scented water, and sprinkled it in all four directions. At once the fire in the hermitage went out, but the visitor’s robes caught fire and began to blaze fiercely. The holy man from downstream cried out loudly and rushed about in panic. Then the holy man from upstream opened his eyes, took his sprinkling wand, and sprinkled water over the other’s head. The flames went out. “How did you come to be in such a plight?” the elder asked. The other replied, “I am an ascetic who has lived and practiced for many years in a hermitage beside the river. Recently, when a water jar came to draw water, I wondered what manner of person might be living here, and came to discover who you were. I thought to put you to a small test, and so I worked my spell. Please forgive me. From this day forward, let me become your disciple and serve you.” But the holy man seemed scarcely to heed what he was saying. Thus the story has been handed down: because the holy man downstream had grown arrogant, believing that no one could be as holy as himself, the Buddha, displeased with his pride, provided a still holier man and brought the two together.