The Muddied Mind
Letting Go
A senior monk and his younger apprentice were traveling together along a muddy countryside road. Heavy rain had been falling all morning, and the path was slick with wet earth.
As they turned a corner, they came across a young woman standing at the edge of a wide puddle. She was dressed in a beautiful silk kimono and expensive shoes, clearly hesitant to cross for fear of ruining her clothes.
Without hesitation, the older monk walked over. “Come, I’ll help,” he said, and gently lifted her in his arms. He carried her across the mud, set her down safely on the other side, and without a word, continued on his way.
The younger monk followed, quiet but visibly unsettled. He didn’t speak for the rest of the day.
That evening, after they had arrived at a lodging temple and settled in, the younger monk finally broke his silence.
“Master,” he said, “we monks are supposed to avoid contact with women—especially young and attractive ones. It’s dangerous. Why did you do that?”
The older monk looked at him, calm and unbothered.
“I carried her across the road,” he said. “But you’re still carrying her.”
The story reminds us that it’s not our actions alone that weigh us down—it’s the thoughts we hold onto long after. Sometimes, the most spiritual thing we can do is simply let go.
