I like telling stories. I can imagine telling them to my kids in the future (the wife would probably have heard most of them when I was courting her).

Here’s a retelling of a koan:

Once upon a time, there was a man, who sauntered up to a jacaranda tree. He sat underneath it, and contemplated life, the universe and everything else. He meditated on the subtle emptiness of things.

It was winter, and the scenery was dead-looking. After some time, out of a sudden, the man beneath the tree is sprinkled with a shower of purple flowers. He was surprised, as there wouldn’t be flowers at this time of the year. He looked up and saw a few gods above him, sprinkling flowers at him.

He said: Thank you!

The gods say: No, thank you, for giving us such a great lesson about emptiness! (These were polite and humble gods, unlike the typical image of an arrogant god)

He said: I said nothing. I gave no discourse on emptiness.

They said: You said nothing, we heard nothing. There was no discourse on emptiness. That was true emptiness that we experienced. That was the teaching of what experience of emptiness is. That is true emptiness. For that we thank you.

And the gods zoomed back into their heavens, leaving the man amused and in a rain of flowers.

And thus ends the story. BRB. I’m going to sit under the jacaranda trees in front of my house. See you guys later!

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