rible ghost devour him. Escaping death now, he reasoned, will
give me the chance to resume my practice later with renewed dil-
igence, whereas I gain nothing by sacrificing my life to this ghost.
With that he opened his eyes and turned to look in the direction
of the chewing, crunching sounds, all set to make a dash for his
life. Peering through the darkness to catch a glimpse of the ter-
rible ghost he had imagined, he saw instead a village dog, casu-
ally eating the scraps of food left by the villagers as offerings to
the spirits as part of the local custom. It had come scrounging for
something to fill its stomach, as hungry animals are wont to do;
and it wasn’t the least bit interested in him sitting there.
Suddenly realizing that it was only a dog, the monk laughed
at his own folly. Turning his attention to the dog, which showed
no interest in him whatsoever, he thought: So! You’re the almighty
specter that nearly drove me crazy. You’ve taught me the lesson of
my life! At the same time, he was deeply dismayed by his own
cowardice:
“Despite my determination to confront my fears like a war-
rior, I was thrown into a panic as soon as I heard the sound of
this dog scrounging for food – a mad dhutanga monk fleeing fran-
tically for his life! It’s a good thing I had enough mindfulness to
wait that fraction of a second longer to discover the real cause
of my fear. Otherwise, it would probably have driven me mad.
Gosh! Am I really so grossly stupid as that? If so, do I deserve to
continue wearing the yellow robes, the emblem of courage, for it
denotes a disciple of the Lord Buddha, whose superior courage
transcends all comparison? Being this useless, should I still walk
for alms, and thus desecrate the food that the faithful offer with
such respect? What can I do now to redeem myself after such a
jacob rumans
(Jacob Rumans)
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