A Zen master was nervously awaiting news as to the state of his Zen license. He had recently ticked off the Zen Council (which is a thing) by selling shoddy Zen wares - faulty rugs, clunky chimes, Zen booklets filled with swears - and the future of his zen-hood was in peril.

“What shall I do if I lose my Zen license?” he wondered, “I have no marketable skills, despite what my mother says.  I fear I shall die broken and destitute on a shoddy rug.”

Suddenly, a light appeared in the sky. In the middle of the light was what looked like a lady one minute and a golden dog the next.

“Zen master,” a sweet, barkly voice said from out of the light, “fear not. While you fret and hem and haw and ham, I have taken steps to ensure that your license to Zen remains viable for the next three to six years.”

“What the hell?” thought the Zen master, “What the hell?”

“I expect no thanks,” continued the glowing woman-dog thing in the sky, “just a small contribution to my - my fund.  My charitable fund. It’s a fund.”

The Zen master was so spooked and weirded out by whatever the hell, that he dropped a few dollars in the can that the dog thing was holding out on some sort of tentacle paw appendage.

“Later!” the thing called out. And vanished.

The Zen master was stunned and shaken, but pleased that his Zen license was no longer in danger.

He was soon stunned and saddened when he found out that he had, in fact lost his license as well as his boat which the Zen Council took because YES they can do that (they hold all the cards!).

“But,” said the Zen master, “but, there was this dog -“

“You weren’t taken in by the dog-head-woman-light-thing, were you?” they asked.

“M - maybe.”

“Lulz!” they shouted (which is Zen for “LOL!”), “taken in by that thing! We hope you learned your lesson and enjoy all your NOTHING!” And, they Zenned* away.

The Zen master never saw the dog-floaty-woman thing again. He did, however, start a rather successful lemon-ice stand and drank a lot.

*Zen (v) - to noisily depart with hooting and subtle flatulence sounds

While gazing at the night sky, a Zen master began contemplating the possibility of Zen on other planets. Would creatures that developed far from Earth contain within themselves the possibility of enlightenment? Or, would their minds function in such a way as to make enlightenment impossible?

The master decided to find out and built a great ladder that stretched all the way to the heavens with its top resting on Jupiter’s ring.

On his day of ascension, many students and masters from far and wide gathered at the base of the ladder to see him off. On his back, he wore a simple pack with some rice balls, an extra robe and a flint for lighting fires. He climbed one rung and then the other, working his way, hand over hand, into the sky. Every few rungs, he would look back down at the crowd as if to reassure them that all was going well. After many hours of climbing, he disappeared into a cloud bank.

Months passed. The ladder remained standing in the master’s garden. Every so often, a student would sit at its base to meditate and, secretly, hope they would be the first to greet the master on his return.

But, his return seemed unlikely.

Years went by. The ladder became weathered. Its rungs began to rot in the elements. Its rails began to splinter in the heat. One day, a student came by the garden and the bottom few meters had crumbled away. Now, the ladder seemed to hang from the sky, a forlorn reminder of the master’s seemingly hopeless venture.

Decades passed. Many of the people in the village forgot about the master and his folly. The ladder had, by this time, worn away so much that it was impossible to make out above the clouds.

And then, one day, as a group of laborers sat enjoying their drinks at the local inn, the door swung open and the master entered. Looking as young as the day he left, he signaled the innkeeper to bring him a cup of wine and a bowl of rice.

Most of the people in the inn went about their business, not realizing who he was, but one wizened old man in the back stood up and worked his way over to the master’s table.

“Master?” he said in a thin papery voice, “Is that you? I was your student many years ago. I helped you build the ladder. I watched you ascend into the heavens. I waited at the base for you to return. I championed your cause throughout the village. I wept at the thought of your death. I despaired at the years I spent on your dream. I succumbed to the bottle. And now, you are back. You look as if you never left. You have your youth and vitality. Your eyes are clear. Your back is strong. Please tell me you have brought new enlightenment from the stars. Please tell me that the years have not been a waste.”

The master leaned down to the old student. His eyes twinkled. He whispered into his ear, “There in a Neptunian Battle Squadron heading towards Earth. They have been scoping out this miserable mud-ball for centuries. The Emperor Nar’ag’Itl finally succumbed to sendrasit poisoning and his son, the right venerable Emperor Nar’ag’iml, is using his death as a flimsy excuse to wreak havoc across this galactic quadrant. Everything you thought you knew about life is a lie. Reality is warped and this planet and all of its inhabitants are about to be pulled into a nightmare of such mind-bending proportions that your greatest hope is to succumb to insanity before the full reality of the horror that is life settles into your tiny simian cranium.”

The master then paid and left. 

Four days later, the nightmare began … 

Zen master Haikun left this as his final message to his students:

There is a wasp in my room. I am so afraid I can’t even breathe. Will someone please come in here and kill it? I’m terrified of these things. I’m trying to be all Zen about this, but I’m sorry. It’s - ahh! AHH! Oh, god it just swooped down at me. Okay, it’s bouncing around near the window. I’m going to try and slip out the doo - oh, GOD! AHHH! Ahh! Get away! GET AWAY! OOH! I’m so not Zen with this I’m so not Zen with this! Someone help! Someone come in here and kill this Waaaaa - aaaaah! Oh, NO! Ahhhh! AHHHH!!

A college professor, new to the concepts of Zen, came to study with Zen master Nan-in. His first week was tense for both men as the professor asked many intricate questions and found them unanswered time and again.

After ten days of this treatment, he exploded at Nan-in, “I have been here over a week with serious questions as to the nature of Zen! Instead of answering me, you deflect my questions with inane stories and meaningless banter! I begin to believe this whole thing is a sham! There is nothing to Zen but pithy stories and tiresome prattle!”

Nan-in said nothing, but, taking the professor by the elbow, led him to a gate at one end of the Zen garden.

“Beyond this gate,” Nan-in said, “is a wood filled with ravenous wolves. Every night, the wolves come baying at the gate. We repel them by tossing them scraps of meat. This satiates them, but they return every night because they have lost the ability to hunt for themselves. Scraps of meat will never truly satisfy an animal that craves the hunt.”

The professor was astonished as enlightenment filled his body. He fell to the ground weeping and thanked Nan-in for helping him find his way on the path.

Later, Nan-in was talking with another master.

“I noticed that professor has stopped bothering us with questions.”

“Yeah, I threatened to throw him to the wolves and I guess that freaked him out enough to shut him up.”

“Whatever works.”

“Yep. Zen for life?”

“Zen for life!”

And they high-fived.

A small Zen studio was starting a blog, but the blog’s title remained elusive. Stymied, the followers contacted a great Zen master with the question of what would be the most “Zen” thing to call their blog.

The master wrote back:

Many years ago, a young student was following his master through a forest. The trees grew close together and eventually all light was blocked. ‘Master,’ the young student cried, ‘I cannot see you and fear I shall grow lost!’ ‘Stupid fool!’ the master yelled back, ‘Your pitiful cries are beacons for the wild animals! Lost you may be, but rather lost than devoured! Quiet your noise, or the bears and wolves will follow their sound and feast on your -’ But the master said no more. Later, the student stumbled across his half-eaten corpse. ’ This student attained enlightenment and became known as Zen master Sheng-yen.

The students weren’t sure what to make of this story, so they wrote back to the master.

The master replied with another letter:

The Zen master Kakua approached the Emperor with a beautiful bird in a gilded cage. The Emperor, always looking for new animals to add to his menagerie, asked the master if he had brought the bird as a gift. ‘I bring a gift,’ said the master, ‘but it is not the bird. It is the song contained within the bird. And, it is only available by listening to the trees. For the bird will not sing when caged.’ Just then, the bird began warbling an enchanting song. ‘What’s that then?’ asked the Emperor. The master grew nervous, ‘Oh, that’s his - that’s his second best song. The best song he only sings in the trees.’ Things grew tense as the bird’s song got more complex and gorgeous. ‘Kakua,’ said the Emperor, ‘why are you wasting my time? This bird sings beautifully caged or no. Guards! Go out into the countryside, find all the birds and put them in cages! Put all the most talented journeymen in cages as well. Cage everyone! The whole country needs to be put in cages! Later, cage yourselves!’ ‘Well, that backfired,’ thought Kakua.

“Dear Zen master,” wrote the students, “please stop telling us stories and just give us a good title for our blog. We were thinking ‘Zen Some, Lose Some’ or ‘Too Many Roosters in the Zen House.’ What do you think?”

The students never heard back from the master and, a few weeks later, their Zen license was revoked. Which is totally a thing that can happen.

“Master, why do we do our meditating outside? Should we not be able to attain total enlightenment inside as well?

“Student, look up at that tree. Upon that tree are many branches. Upon those branches are many leaves. Upon those leaves are many veins. Within those veins are many chemicals. Within those chemicals are the very codes to the life of the tree itself. This is the tree’s DNA. DNA determines every inherited physical characteristic of every living thing. The nucleotide of DNA consists of a deoxyribose sugar molecule to which is attached a phosphate group and one of four nitrogenous bases: two purines (adenine and guanine) and two pyrimidines (cytosine and thymine).”

” … “

“DATA ERROR!”

“Robots!”

“HALT, HUMAN!”

“ROBOTS!!”

A Zen master was walking down a rural lane, contemplating life’s mysteries, when he passed a campfire, around which several men were playing a game of cards. 

One of the men saw the master and, recognizing his robes, called him over.

“You’re one of them Zen guys, ain’t you?” the gentleman asked, “Well, we got ourselves a deep question. Think you can help us out?”

The master nodded.

“Now, I got me a hand of cards that looks like it might be a winner. My friend on the other side of the fire there has a hand that he thinks might be a winner. Now, Mr. Master, when our hands are played only one of us can be declared the winner. But, if we remain friends after this, won’t we both really be winners?”

The master pondered the man’s question.

“It would seem,” said the master, “that you have already discovered the secret to happiness.”

The man was surprised at this turn of events, but thought that sounded pretty cool. So, he and his friends started playing cards again.

“And,” said the master, “If you - if you stay friends forever then no matter who has the most money  - no matter who has the most money, you’ll both be the richest of all.”

The master waited for some acknowledgment of what he’d said, but the men were pretty intent on playing their card game.

“The richest of all,” the master mumbled. He started walking away but turned back when he thought one of the guys had said something to him. But, they were just talking to each other.

Later, the master shared this story with a student, except he changed it so that he was the one who came up with the part about them both being winners and made it so the card player was the one who tried the “richest of all” thing. 

“But, I was already walking away,” the master concluded.

The student was unimpressed, but he nodded a lot so as not to betray how unimpressed he was. He maybe nodded a little too much, though. No one nods that much.

A Zen master was confused when he opened a jar of medicine and found a frog inside.

“Truly, this is the medicine I sought,” said the master, and he swallowed the frog.

The master’s student walked up just as the master had finished swallowing, holding a jar of his own.

“Master,” he said, “it seems your medicine was mixed up with one of the local’s frog jars.”

The master began retching and coughed up the frog.

The student was shocked and amazed.

“What the hell?” he thought, “Is this enlightenment? I’m not sure I’m on board with this.”

“Don’t look so worried,” the master reassured the student, “this isn’t a Zen thing. I swallowed this frog because I thought that my medicine jar … well, it was in my medicine jar or what I thought was my medicine jar and so … so I swallowed it. The frog. I swallowed the frog.”

The frog began hopping out of the room. 

“Oh, look at that!” said the master, “It’s still alive! So … so, enlightenment is like a swallowed frog, see? You think it’s something you have to take into yourself, but really you’re taking the wrong thing … the - you’re supposed to wait a minute and someone will bring you the right thing to … to eat.”

But, the student had left as soon as the frog started moving. It was pretty freaky.