The mountain is the mountain
And the Way is the same as of old.
Verily what has changed Is my own heart
This lovely poem shines most brilliantly when you know the events leading to its creation The Zen Buddhist monk who wrote it was once a samurai knight. As you may know, samurais live by a very strict code and are bound by duty. At some point the samurai in this story was drawn towards Buddhism and eventually turned his back on the samurai life to join a Buddhist monastery atop a mountain. Twenty years later, whilst the monk was on pilgrimage, an old Samurai recognises him and spits in the monk's face for deserting his duty. The monk wipes the spit from his face and carries on walking - in this instance he realises that years ago (when he was a samurai) he would have drawn his sword and killed anyone for spitting in his face. And so to express his wonder at the change his Zen training had wrought, he turned to the mountain atop which the monastery where he trained was, bowed, and wrote the poem:
The mountain is the mountain
And the Way is the same as of old.
Verily what has changed Is my own heart
Beautiful.
And the Way is the same as of old.
Verily what has changed Is my own heart
This lovely poem shines most brilliantly when you know the events leading to its creation The Zen Buddhist monk who wrote it was once a samurai knight. As you may know, samurais live by a very strict code and are bound by duty. At some point the samurai in this story was drawn towards Buddhism and eventually turned his back on the samurai life to join a Buddhist monastery atop a mountain. Twenty years later, whilst the monk was on pilgrimage, an old Samurai recognises him and spits in the monk's face for deserting his duty. The monk wipes the spit from his face and carries on walking - in this instance he realises that years ago (when he was a samurai) he would have drawn his sword and killed anyone for spitting in his face. And so to express his wonder at the change his Zen training had wrought, he turned to the mountain atop which the monastery where he trained was, bowed, and wrote the poem:
The mountain is the mountain
And the Way is the same as of old.
Verily what has changed Is my own heart
Beautiful.

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