The Bear, the Tiger and the Strawberry

Photo: Petr Kratchovil

Buddhist masters give their students problems called koans. In that their purpose is to illustrate important life lessons, they are similar to Christian parables. But – and perhaps only because I was raised within a paradigm that gives me easy access to the teachings of Jesus Christ rather than those of Buddhist elders – I find koans especially difficult to unravel.

Here’s an example . . . a Buddhist holy man is being chased by a bear. In his haste to get away, he unwittingly plunges off a cliff. His descent is halted, however, by a branch growing from the cliff. Miraculously, it supports his weight. Wondering how far he is from terra firma, he looks below him. What he sees is a snarling tiger pacing to and fro, obviously waiting for lunch . . . Buddhist steak tartare. Above, the bear growls and dips his claws, trying to reach the branch and retrieve his prey from its perch.

Could things get worse? Yes. Yes, they could. (As they almost always can, so never ask this question!) The monk now notices that the branch on which he is so tenuously balanced is slowly yet surely losing its grip. His time suspended between two mortal enemies is finite. And then. He notices something beautiful. There in the soil next to the branch’s root he spies a jewel: one single, perfectly ripe, red strawberry. He reaches forward, plucks this treasure. He admires its physical dimensions; its bright color. He savors the way it feel between his thumb and finger, lifts it to his nose to inhale its scent. Then, and only then, he pops it into his mouth and rolls it gently on his tongue before, finally, biting into it and marveling as its juice washes over his taste buds. He sighs with rapture. “Ah,” he says. “Perfection!”

I’m embarrassed to admit how long I’ve struggled with this story in frustration. Well, yes, of course I get it. It’s about living in the moment. Living juicy. Blah, blah, blah. But there’s a BEAR trying to tear him apart from above and a TIGER waiting to tear him apart from below. And he’s got time to pick strawberries?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME? YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME. You’re not kidding me? *Sigh.* Okay, I’ll try one more time . . .

A monk is being chased by a bear . . .

The problem is that I’m an American. From my first fairy tales to the Hollywood movies I see today, I’ve been spoon-fed “happily ever after.” I like a happy ending, dammit. And I gotta tell you, things aren’t looking promising for that little bald dude in the saffron robe.

I want the monk to be a highly trained Special Forces operative, packing heat. With flawless precision, he shoots and dispatches the bear. (Yes, I DO know how hard it is to kill a bear.) But the shot causes the bear to stumble off the cliff in confusion and pain. He misses the branch bearing (no pun intended) our protagonist by inches but hey, a miss is as good as a mile. He does not, however, miss the tiger. He lands right on top of the tiger and both are dead. The monk drops safely from his perch onto a mattress of bear and tiger and, just for good measure, he takes both the skins home to adorn the monastery. Alternately, the monk unsheathes his trusty K-bar, places it between his teeth (sharp edge out, of course!), times his drop from the branch precisely and lands on the back of the tiger. This stuns the tiger for a moment . . . just long enough for the monk to slit his throat. In this scenario he gets only one rug for the hut, but it's still a pretty good deal.

Yes, yes, I know Buddhist monks won’t swat a mosquito or hurt a fly. And yes, we DO see a lot of movies here IDW. But we also know a lot of Marines. And one bad-ass Special Forces operative. Just a few of the reasons I had trouble wrapping my little Western mind around this particular message in a bottle.

And then one day. One day I had the moment of intuitive enlightment that is the purpose of the koan. For just a split second, I WAS the monk. And that juicy berry was my life. That little bald dude in the saffron robe stood in for my mortal coil, suspended between life and death. Because let’s face it: No one gets out of here alive. Knowing this as we all do, knowing the branch is tearing free and death awaits us, it takes enormous courage to reach out and pluck the berry; to let its juicy sweetness delight us in spite of everything. It takes courage. And it takes a certain measure of enlightenment.

Life is filled with microcosms of this story. Relationships end. Loved ones die. Illness strikes. A flood destroys the crops. A fire burns our home. Thieves steal what we have earned. Friends betray us. There is war and plague and pestilence. But – as my father so often sings in his deep baritone – “It’s a good life, if you don’t weaken.”

The bears and the tigers are everywhere. (And I ain’t lion!) But the berries are here, too, even where you least expect to find them. So as long as we’re perched here on this branch in the abyss . . . let’s reach for the berry. Here’s to living juicy.