Concentration and Compassion
May 21st, 2009 by Bill
Concentration and Compassion
Buddhist
Many years ago, a young Chinese man called Ling left his hometown and went off in search of wisdom. He wanted to know the most important things in life so that he could live happily without causing pain to other people. He went from teacher to teacher, but none of them seemed able to answer his questions satisfactorily. One suggested that he would need to spend many years in a monastery meditating; but Ling didn’t want to wait for so long before learning how to behave properly. One even advised him to do without food for days or even weeks, but Ling didn’t think that starving himself would be helpful at all. Some of the people he approached said that he should stop worrying about hurting other people and simply concentrate on gaining the maximum pleasure from life, but Ling thought this was just selfishness and would never bring him real happiness.
After many months of searching, he came across an old monastery in a very remote and secluded part of the country. He asked to see the abbot, and was granted an audience.
‘What are you seeking, my son?’ asked the abbot.
‘I want to know how I can live my life happily without causing pain to others. Is it possible to learn this quickly? I have been to many teachers, but they all tell me that learning these things will take many years, and some even advise me to give up the search altogether,’ replied Ling.
‘There is a way, but first you must tell me something about yourself. What have you done with your life so far? What have you studied? What are you good at?’
‘I’ve not studied much, and I’m not really much good at anything,’ said Ling. ‘I come from a very wealthy family so I have never needed to study or to work. I have spent much of my time in idleness. I can play chess, though. I passed many pleasurable hours playing with my father’s servants and so I became quite skilled at the game.’
The abbot thought for a moment, and then he said: ‘I think I can help you, but you must first agree to do, without question, whatever I suggest. Do you agree?’ After Ling had given a tentative nod of agreement, the abbot said to his servant: ‘Brother Ru, please bring the chess board and chess pieces.’
When the servant returned, the abbot told him to set up the board for a game. Then he said to him. ‘Brother Ru, when you entered this monastery many years ago, you promised that you would obey any order I might give you, no matter how difficult or how dangerous the task. Hitherto, I have not asked much of you, but today I am really going to test your obedience. I want you to play chess against this young man. He says it is the only thing he does well, so he is probably a very good player. But this will be no ordinary game: whoever loses will have his head cut off!’ Saying these chilling words, the abbot took a huge sword from beside his chair and held it menacingly above the chess board. Ling and Ru could tell by the look on the abbot’s face that he meant what he said.
The game began. At first, Ling was so nervous that he made a few elementary blunders, and carelessly lost a few of his most important pieces. He could feel the sweat trickling down his neck; his hands were clammy and his mouth was dry. But as he began to concentrate and focus his attention completely on the game, his position improved. Now his opponent became a little agitated, and, sensing defeat, he began to play erratically, making one silly move after another. Ling looked carefully at him. He seemed kind and intelligent, and his face showed the wisdom that had come from many years of study and meditation. ‘How can I let this man die?’ he thought. ‘His life is worth much more than mine. I must not win this game.’ Ling deliberately began to play badly so that Ru could gain the advantage. As the game was nearing its completion, and Ling was resigning himself to being beheaded, the abbot suddenly struck the chess board with his sword, scattering the remaining pieces all over the table and the floor.
‘The game is ended,’ said the Abbot. ‘There is no winner and no loser. No one will lose his head. Young man,’ he said, turning to Ling, ‘Only two things are required in life and you have displayed them both today. When you were playing the game you concentrated with all your might because your life was at stake, but then you realised that your opponent had a right to live too, perhaps more right to live than you, and so you showed pity for him. By your thoughts and actions today you have answered your own question: the most important things in life are concentration and compassion. If you cultivate these two virtues you will live happily and you will not cause pain to others.’
(Ling means ‘compassion’ ‘understanding’; Ru means ‘scholar’)