23
On a certain day, the monks were told to gather in the Great Hall The Master held up a glass of water, and shook it gently.
"The mind is like this glass of water," he said. "As long as it's stirred up, the impurities float everywhere, and taint every drop. Through meditation, the impurities settle to the bottom, and the water becomes pure as mountain rain."
A monk who was listening stood up and groaned. He grabbed the glass, and poured it over the Master's head.
The Master raised a dripping eyebrow. "You disapprove of today's lesson?"
Instead of answering, the monk held up the empty glass and shook it vigourously.
"How old are you, anyway?" he snarled. "The mind is nothing like a glass of water. It's like this glass of emptiness. Where are the impurities? Stir it all you want, or let it sit for a thousand years. Either way, it doesn't matter a sweet god-damn."
A second monk groaned, then stood up and grabbed the glass.
"What is this, amateur night?" cried the Master.
The monk threw the glass across the room, where it shattered with a loud crash.
"You both should still be wearing diapers," he shouted. He raised his hand as if holding a glass, and pointed to the empty space. "Where is the glass? Where is the water? Where is the container that could hold emptiness?"
A third monk stood up, panic-stricken, and pointed to the broken glass. "Oh my God, the emptiness! He spilled it! It's going everywhere!"
"Okay," yelled the Master. "You three—all of you—out of here! Get lost!"
The three monks looked at each other, shrugged, and left.
Silence fell.
"What just happened here?" whispered a monk with an alarmed look on his face.
"Graduation day," said his friend. "You know, sometimes I wish they'd just give out diplomas."
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