Original Eastern Dialogue Parables – The Man Who Carried the Moon

One autumn evening, a traveler was making his way through the mountains when he came upon an old Zen monk sitting beside a perfectly still lake. The moon hung low in the sky, its reflection floating upon the water as though the heavens had descended to earth.

The traveler bowed. “Master, I have journeyed for many years seeking enlightenment.” The old monk smiled but said nothing. The traveler continued. “I have studied the sutras. I have meditated in caves. I have fasted until my body became light. I have sought teachers in every province.”

The monk nodded. “And yet,” the traveler sighed, “peace still escapes me.”

The monk picked up a wooden bucket and handed it to him.

“Tonight,” said the monk, handing him a wooden bucket, “bring me the moon before dawn.”

The traveler looked puzzled. “The moon?” “The one in the lake.” Thinking this must be some profound test, the traveler carefully lowered the bucket into the water. As he lifted it, the moon appeared inside.

“I have it!” he exclaimed.

But as he climbed the bank, the water rippled, spilling over the edge. The moon vanished. Again and again he tried. Each time the moon appeared. Each time it disappeared.

Hours passed. His robes became soaked. His arms grew tired. Finally, exhausted, he dropped the bucket and fell to his knees.

“I have failed.” The old monk quietly asked, “What have you lost?”

“The moon.”

The monk pointed upward.

“Look again.” The traveler lifted his eyes. The moon had never moved.

For a long while neither spoke. At last the monk said, “You have spent your life trying to carry what cannot be possessed.”

The traveler whispered, “Then why did you ask me to bring it?” The old monk smiled. “Because if I had only told you, you would have believed you understood.”

The traveler looked once more at the moon reflected in the lake. For the first time, he noticed that the reflection was beautiful precisely because no one could keep it.

He bowed deeply. As he walked away, he left the bucket behind. The monk chuckled softly.

The next morning another traveler arrived. The monk picked up the bucket.

“Would you bring me the moon?”