Once, in a small village nestled among the vast paddy fields, lived a man named Katsu. He was known for his litany of complaints and his uncanny ability to lay blame on others. Every sunrise found Katsu with a new excuse for his inaction, a new villain for his woes. Even the slightest wind of change terrified him, and yet, he blamed the world for his fear. His heart was a tinderbox, ready to burst into flames at the slightest provocation.
Katsu heard of a Zen Master who lived in solitude atop a distant mountain, said to possess the keys to success and fulfilment. Despite his aversion to challenges, Katsu decided to embark on this journey, desperate for an external source of motivation.
After an arduous climb, he stood before the Zen Master, a man of penetrating gaze and sparse words. “I seek success and happiness,” Katsu proclaimed, bracing himself for words of comfort and encouragement.
Instead, the Zen Master regarded him with a stern gaze and began, “Let’s cut the nonsense, Katsu. You, with your pathetic litany of grievances against the world – have you ever taken a good, hard look at yourself?”
Katsu was taken aback, but the Zen Master’s relentless words flowed on, “Your list of “bad relatives” and “bad friends” – when’s the last time you added your own name there? You, who trembles at the slightest breeze of change and yet dares to blame the wind. Are you so dense that you think your cowardice and your excuses are getting you anywhere?”
A cold silence fell, and the Master continued, “Oh, the grudges you clutch! Do you imagine them as your trophies? Well, here’s your prize: a life of bitterness and isolation. Well done, Katsu! You’ve earned it.”
Katsu was lost for words, yet the Master’s onslaught didn’t cease, “Who are those few people you claim as friends? Are they too scared to shatter your illusions or too tired to argue with your tantrums?”
His voice dropped to a whisper, “Destroy the monster you call ego, Katsu. It’s a hideous beast feeding on your fear and anger. You can choose to wallow in this self-made pit of despair, but you don’t get to drag everyone else down with you.”
As the Master’s words carved into him, Katsu felt an unfamiliar sensation. He looked down to find his hands trembling, his legs buckling under the weight of a truth he had long denied.
In the silence that followed, the Master’s voice softened, “Is there a man beneath that ego, Katsu? A man who can face himself without excuses or blame?”
In that moment, Katsu broke. He fell to his knees, tears carving rivers of regret on his cheeks. He wept for the opportunities wasted, the relationships ruined, and the man he had failed to become.
From that day, Katsu surrendered to the Zen Master’s wisdom. Each morning he faced his fears, and each night he confronted his failures. The journey was excruciating, but with each passing day, the man beneath the pride began to emerge.
Months later, Katsu descended the mountain. He was no longer the man who trembled at change or sought refuge in excuses. He was a man who could face himself, a man who had conquered his fear.
Back in his village, people watched in astonishment as Katsu, once the epitome of bitterness, embraced challenges with grace. His heart, once a tinderbox of anger, now glowed with the warm embers of understanding and compassion.
And so, Katsu’s life became a testament to the transformative power of brutal honesty and personal accountability, a beacon for all who seek the courage to face themselves and break the chains of their own making.
