THE TEN OXHERDING PICTURES | 十牛図 | I. SEARCHING FOR THE OX

"Hurriedly parting the brush searching for it
Water wide, mountains far away, road long;
Tired and exhausted, still it eludes me.
The chirr of evening cicadas in the maple trees is all that is heard."*

The spiritual quest at its very onset distinguishes itself as an aspirational gesture reaching out to fathom the very depths of the mystery that surrounds us. The initial casual ruminations are not the genesis of our journey - the burning question is the start. We have to have tried and exhausted any hope of our own intellect laying hold of the matter. Until our inquiry is felt as a grave need to understand our true cosmic inheritance, we haven't laid foot to the path.

There is an old anecdote about the true spiritual seeker:

"A hermit was meditating by a river when a young man interrupted him. "Master, I wish to become your disciple," said the man. "Why?" replied the hermit. The young man thought for a moment. "Because I want to find God."

The master jumped up, grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, dragged him into the river, and plunged his head under water. After holding him there for a minute, with him kicking and struggling to free himself, the master finally pulled him up out of the river. The young man coughed up water and gasped to get his breath. When he eventually quieted down, the master spoke. "Tell me, what did you want most of all when you were under water."

"Air!" answered the man.

"Very well," said the master. "Go home and come back to me when you want God as much as you just wanted air."

The search, therefore, begins not as a quaint longing but a desperate need. When we have exhausted our understanding, searched high and low in vain, and lain down defeated in the tall grass with only the cicada's chirr and the rustle of the maple to console us, only then can we even hope to begin genuine practice.