The Monkey Sutra encapsulated

[Zoom Rabbit]

Here ya go, Redwing...a complete copy of the Monkey Sutra (without commentaries) for the JK2 stories archive.

 

The Monkey Sutra

 

'Teach a man to fish and he eats every day; give a man a monkey, and he can teach it to fish for him.'

 

ACT ONE

 

Thus have I heard--that long, long ago there lived a tribe of monkeys in the sandalwood forest. In those days the world was still young, and the vine and flower-laden treetops still rattled with the cry of wild monkeys, much as they had for uncounted eons.

 

This tribe was unique. They had discovered fire, and how to keep it burning with sticks and leaves. They huddled around the fire together, safe from the bigger animals of the sandalwood forest. For the first time, monkeys were presented with the challenge of living together.

 

As was the ancient, unwritten law of nature, the largest monkey ruled the tribe. He named himself Manu the Monkey King, and tossed aside any monkey who challenged him. Taking responsibility, the first king saw to it that firewood was gathered and food brought to the camp for all to share. He ended squabbles between the other monkeys in the tribe by tossing them...but he began to foresee a day when his aggression would be insufficient to control the tribe. With the passing of time, his mighty ape body was losing its youthful invulnerability, and some day, a bigger monkey would toss him aside. The fire could be lost, the monkeys might return to the treetops...and things would go back to the way they were before. This thought saddened the Monkey King. He wished that he could find a better way to control the tribe, but they were simple monkeys after all, who responded only to intimidation.

 

One day, a strange new monkey came to visit the fire. His fur shined with a silvery light, which cast shadows of the leaves and trees of the forest. Even more strangely, this monkey walked upright, using only his two legs. He smelled of cinnamon and cloves.

 

As the shining monkey approached the tribe, Manu stood his ground. 'Who are you, and why have you invaded our camp?'

 

'My king, if you had called this your camp, I would have left immediately,' smiled the stranger. 'Since you understand that you and your tribe share the same fate, I will remain long enough to give you the solution to your problems.' With that, he held up a single banana--but such a banana! Unlike the plain, yellow ones that could be found growing in the sandalwood forest, it was striped with all the colors of the rainbow, from its red stem to the purple tip. When he peeled it, the now curious tribe could see that the flesh was silver-colored, and smelled of exotic trees and flowers unknown to monkeys. 'This is a magic banana. Any monkeys who tastes of it will find peace.'

 

Manu took the banana and began breaking it into enough pieces to share with each monkey in the tribe.

 

'I am the Ghost Monkey,' said the brilliant one. 'I will come back every morning with another magic banana for you.' He bowed, then vanished into thin air.

 

The Ghost Monkey's sudden disappearance caused much screeching agitation in the camp. It took Manu awhile to calm down his people. Once he had them back under control, he passed the magic banana pieces around and watched them eat, saving his piece for last.

 

The magic banana was as delicious as its exotic smell promised--blended within its flavor was every plant and flower in the forest. As the warm fruit settled in Manu's stomache, a comfortable feeling bubbled up within his mind, escaping as a broad grin. He looked around the fire and saw that the rest of the tribe was at ease as well.

 

'We are like one monkey,' observed the king. 'Instead of fighting amongst ourselves for food and mates, we are all together in peace.'

 

'Yes, sire.' agreed one monkey.

 

'I, too, am content,' said another, 'I don't feel like biting any of you, or hurling my feces.'

 

'The magic banana makes us better,' said Manu. 'We are like one monkey now, with the strength of many! Never again will I have to toss monkey to keep order in the camp. Today the Ghost Monkey has truly delivered us from the ignorance of being wild monkeys.'

 

The Monkey King then noticed that not all of his people had eaten their share of the magic banana. A slow and dim-wiited creature known as Fool Monkey, who prefered digging in the mud for roots over sitting around the fire, had left his piece sitting uneaten on a rock. 'Fool Monkey! You had better eat this before a bird comes and takes it from you...!'

 

Fool Monkey looked up from his digging. 'Another monkey could use that, sire. I don't need any magic banana.' He went back to work.

 

Manu shook his head. 'I will force no one to eat the magic banana if they don't wish it. A fool monkey you truly are, though, if you don't at least try it.'

 

'Thank you, sire.' Fool Monkey kept digging.

 

The Monkey King picked up the piece and walked away. A fool would always be a fool, it seemed.

 

ACT TWO

 

Rainy seasons marked the passing of time in the sandalwood forest. The Monkey King lost track of them as his fur began to frost, reminding his people of the shining Ghost Monkey who continued to make morning visits. Manu performed the daily ritual of dividing the magic banana for his tribe, and there was always enough for each monkey to have a bite.

 

The monkey tribe had no trouble finding food in the forest, and had even begun to cultivate the seeds from some of their favorite plants. A few of the smarter monkeys had figured out how to make shelter from the sticks and leaves of the forest, to make the rainy season more bearable. Soon, most of the surrounding trees had been transformed into a haphazard village of huts and lean-tos. There were several fires, and a cold monkey could wander from fire to fire all night if he wished.

 

The tribe grew over time, and Manu found himself having to break the magic banana into smaller and smaller pieces in order to go around. He was grateful to the Ghost Monkey and unwilling to press for more...but the day came that the magic banana did not go far enough to bring peace to every monkey in the tribe. Fights began to break out in the crowded village, and Manu decided to ask the Ghost Monkey for more.

 

The next morning, the Ghost Monkey strode out of the mists into the village as he always did. Smiling, he held out two empty hands to the befuddled Monkey King.

 

'What is this? Just as one magic banana proves to be too little, and I need more, you bring me nothing? I will not be able to control the tribe!'

 

'Have faith, my king,' he smiled. 'I am but one monkey, and can bring you only so many magic bananas. Your tribe has grown beyond my ability to help you by myself, but continue to grow it must. Today, then, I will teach you how to find the magic banana tree, so you can go and get as many as your tribe needs.'

 

'We can get our own magic bananas?'

 

'It will be your responsibility to do so. Gather ten monkeys who can walk on two legs and bring them to me.'

 

Manu went among the tribe and had them show him how well they could walk. Himself wondering why this was important, he chose the ten who were the best at it and presented them to the Ghost Monkey.

 

'Very good. Follow me.' Without another word, he turned and led them into the sandalwood forest. Instead of taking to the treetops like a monkey, he walked along a bare ribbon of dirt that snaked off into the distance. Evidently, the Ghost Monkey's daily journeys to the magic banana tree had worn a path on the forest floor, and the monkeys would be able to follow it.

 

Manu now understood the importance of walking.

 

They followed the trail all morning, until the nooday sun burned off the mist and awoke the pungent oils of the forest plants. Captivated by exotic sights and smells new to them, they followed the Ghost Monkey as he led them into new jungles beyond the sandalwood forest. When they reached the foot hills of a mountain they'd only seen in the far distance before, Manu at last cried out, 'How far is the magic banana tree, anyway? To travel so far with one magic banana every day, you would have to walk continuously, day and night!'

 

The Ghost Monkey stopped and smiled patiently. 'This is not how I get magic bananas. I have worn this path in the jungle for your benefit, not mine. We are almost there, my king.'

 

Manu sighed. The group followed the path for several hours more, until the sun had set and they could no longer make out where the plants on the ground had been worn down. Guided only by the Ghost Monkey's shining fur, they passed quietly through the starless night as the unseen jungle screeched and buzzed around them. Abruptly, the trail opened into a wide clearing, lit by the moon which was just clearing the trees.

 

'Behold,' said the Ghost Monkey, and disappeared.

 

The monkeys found themselves standing before a single, proud tree that took the center of the clearing. It sprang from the red, cinnabar earth and reached the sky with broad leaves of rainbow color, where delicate purple flowers danced in the evening breeze. From every branch hung heavy bunches of magic bananas, their rainbow peels shining in the silvery moonlight. On and on they marched up the bole of the tree, countless bunches stacked high atop one another high into the air, which was laced with the intoxicating scent of cinnamon, cloves and unnamed spices from the primeval mists of ancient times.

 

Not at all weary despite the long trek, they whooped and leapt up high into the tree, where they ate their fill of magic bananas. After a brief rest high in the treetop, they gathered as many bunches as they could carry and set off back for the sandalwood forest.

 

The moon stayed out to light their way home. They followed the path easily, even without the Ghost Monkey to lead them, arriving just as the first light of dawn touched the huts of the monkey village and sleepy fires were being stirred for the day.

 

Manu and his ten walkers strode proudly into the village, their shoulders bearing heavy bunches of rainbow fruit. 'Awake!' he yelled. 'All monkeys--come see what can be found walking in the forest!'

 

The monkey tribe gathered about their king, staring at the wonderous bounty of magic bananas piled on the ground. That morning, each monkey had a magic banana all of their own, with plenty to go around. Never before had the monkey tribe of sandalwood forest been so wealthy, and a joyful hooting soon set up among them. Someone banged a stick on a rock to keep time, and music was invented that day.

 

King Manu left the celebration, knowing there was still one monkey who had no magic banana. An entire bunch in one hand, he went to find Fool Monkey.

 

Fool Monkey had been spending most of his time in the treetops, gathering nuts to help feed the village during the rainy season, when food was more difficult to find. Manu found him on the ground, dumping a handful of nuts into a hollow tree he used for storage.

 

'Fool Monkey, I have brought you a bunch of magic bananas. The Ghost Monkey has shown us where to find them, and we now have as many as we will ever need. Please at last join me in eating one.'

 

'Thank you, sire. I appreciate your generosity, but I would still give them to another monkey who needs them more. I have no such need.'

 

Manu was exasperated. 'Why, Fool Monkey? Won't you tell me why you don't need to eat the magic banana?'

 

'Not yet,' he grinned wickedly. With a chattering shriek, he leapt straight up to the treetops and began playfully tossing nuts at the king's head.

 

The Monkey King shook his head and left. There was just no convincing this fool.

 

It wasn't until the following morning that they realized the Ghost Monkey was no longer making his daily appearances.

 

ACT THREE

 

A great many years passed as the monkey tribe of sandalwood forest turned their little village into the bustling hamlet of Monkeytown. The forest was cleared for several miles, the wood cobbled into neat rows of lodges. The population was reaching into the hundreds, and shelter was more important than trees to monkeys now accustomed to walking.

 

Monkeys were specializing in the many tasks required to keep the town running smoothly. Some tended the gardens, while some kept the magic banana supply running smoothly. The strongest, fiercest monkeys specialized in hunting the animals of the forest; with big sticks, they would dispatch the animals, then bring the carcasses back to Monkeytown as food. Other monkeys would then cook the meat, and make it more flavorful with the herbs and flowers to be found in the sandalwood forest. There were monkeys who built lodges, monkeys who cleared sandalwood trees to make room for more lodges, and some clever monkeys were beginning to invent things like clothing, shoes and money.

 

Manu was now white, and very old, but still performed his kingly duties. Only the older monkeys remembered the days when the Ghost Monkey still visited the village every morning. The younger monkeys told and re-told stories of his visits to keep the memory alive...but it seemed to older ears that the details were often distorted. One popular account had the Ghost Monkey sixty feet tall, pushing trees out of the way to clear a trail to the magic banana tree.

 

Manu held court in his own private lodge. It was the finest in Monkeytown, with a grand hall taller than any tree of the forest. A fire burned on a hearth of big rocks, and he sat on a throne carved from prized sandalwood root.

 

One day, an upset monkey brought him a rainbow-striped banana, which he hurled angrily to the floor before the throne.

 

Silence filled the hall. The Monkey King smiled wryly and said, 'You had better pick that up and eat it before you lose your temper.'

 

'It would do me no good. This is no magic banana!' He picked it up and held it up for all to see. 'As you can see, sire, this is an ordinary banana that has been painted to look like a magic one.'

 

Manu inspected the banana. Indeed, only the yellow part was real, the other colors crudely applied with a monkeyhair brush. He peeled it and sniffed at the dull, white fruit. 'Where did you buy this?'

 

The monkey led the king and several of his advisors to a market stall in the poorest quarter of Monkeytown. The magic banana vendor there found himself explaining to an unamused king how he could have sold a painted banana to his now irate customer.

 

'Well, sire, I do my best to ensure that I sell only genuine magic bananas...but I sell so many that I couldn't possibly check every single one!' He gestured to a long table piled high with magic bananas for the day's business. 'Also, some bananas are painted so well that the only way to tell is to peel one.'

 

Manu picked a magic banana at random and peeled it. 'Well, this one is real, at least.' He handed it to the monkey who'd bought the fake one earlier, then turned to look at the long line of monkeys waiting to buy magic bananas. 'How many of these are real, and how many painted? Do you know?'

 

The vendor shrugged. 'Monkeys bring me magic bananas from the forest--who is to say where they found them?'

 

Manu thanked the vendor for his honesty and left with his advisors in tow. 'These are bad tidings indeed. If we can't be sure of our magic banana supply, how can we ensure the peace?'

 

'Without magic bananas,' said the Prime Monkey, 'The monkey tribe will revert to the violent ways of wild monkeys!'

 

'That may be a bit alarmist,' said Manu. 'We haven't run out yet. How is this even happening?'

 

'Sire,' said the Cartographer Monkey, 'the problem is with the magic banana monkeys finding their way to the tree. The simple trail you followed in your youth has become a confused matter today. Other monkeys have made side trails to explore other parts of the jungle, while some have made new ones in search of a shorter route to the magic banana tree. As a result, today's jungle is a tangle of interweaving roads.' He showed the king an animal skin on which he'd painted a spiderweb of meandering lines. 'Not even the map I invented can keep track of them all.'

 

'So when the magic banana monkeys find the tree at all,' said the Prime Monkey, 'it is by accident.'

 

'When they do not find the tree,' suggested the Treasury Monkey, 'they must still come up with magic bananas in order to feed their families. A simple monkey in such a situation might be tempted to paint his own.'

 

Manu groaned. As he stopped to massage his acheing temples, he saw that Fool Monkey was nearby, tending the patch of ordinary bananas that had become his vocation in later years. 'Fool Monkey...tell me again why we can't grow our own magic bananas.'

 

Fool Monkey stopped working. 'I don't know, Sire. We've tried, but they come up as ordinary bananas--like these here.' He winked. 'Fortunately, there are plenty of hungry monkeys who appreciate even yellow bananas.'

 

'Perhaps the dirt is wrong here,' mused the Prime Monkey.

 

'I think it's because we don't really need them.' Without further comment, Fool Monkey went back to working his banana patch.

 

The king shook his head. 'If only I had a town full of fool monkeys--but I don't. I need to ensure the magic banana supply.'

 

They all thought on this. Finally, the Prime Monkey said, 'We need to find a new way to the magic banana tree. This business of trying to find a path through the forest is no longer any good to us!'

 

'Sire,' said the Cartographer Monkey, 'I have an idea. I have in the past made use of the hunter monkeys to help make sense of the roads. They still move through the forest as our ancestors did, by swinging through the treetops, which leaves them completely independent of roads. If any monkey could find a new way to the magic banana tree, it would be a hunter.'

 

Manu considered this. 'I want you to find our finest hunter monkey, and send him to me.'

 

Thus, the Monkey King came to meet the famous monkey hero Hanuman.* Though he had not yet done many of the glorious deeds by which we know him today, his youthful presence was enough to fill the king's great hall. Shoulders as broad as the throne before him and twice as tall as most other monkeys, he smiled and bowed. 'I am here to serve.'

 

'Hanuman, welcome. It is my understanding that you are our finest animal hunter. I have a special quest for one with your skills, if you are willing.'

 

'I will do my best.'

 

Manu told him about the problem with the magic banana supply, and their need for a new way to the tree that didn't rely on the road system.

 

'Sire, I will let you know when I have found such a way.' Hanuman bowed, then put his big animal-hunting stick into the hands of another hunter--He would have no need for it in hunting the magic banana tree. Without delay, he left the Monkey King's lodge and bounded off for the sandalwood forest.

 

*(Hanuman is a figure from hindu mythology, making a cameo appearance in this sutra.)

 

ACT FOUR

 

It was several months before Hanuman stumbled upon the magic banana tree. It was in a clearing on the other side of the big mountain, beyond where the sandalwood forest yielded to the wild jungles and hunter monkeys seldom ventured. During the search, he had heard many monkeys crashing about in the trees below...but when he got to the magic banana tree, he found only silence. No one had been there in quite awhile.

 

Hanuman gathered as many of the magic bananas as he could carry, as much as the weight of ten ordinary monkeys, and set off on his way back to Monkeytown. It took him awhile to get there, as he had not yet mastered the art of jumping over great distances as he would in later years.

 

'I have found the way, sire, but I do not know how to teach others to find it.' He dropped his load of rainbow fruit on the floor of the king's great hall. 'I can carry this much myself.'

 

'If we cut them into smaller pieces like we did in the old days,' said Manu, 'We should be able to make our supplies last. Hanuman, I am grateful for your services. How often can you bring a load to us?'

 

'I can get there and back in a day,' he said. 'Meanwhile, I'll try to find a way to teach other monkeys how to find the magic banana tree. For now, I know of no way other than wandering lost in the jungle for many months as I did.'

 

'Good luck,' said the Cartographer Monkey as he pointed to a pile of animal skin maps. 'Maps are of no use in the treetops, which change every time the wind blows.'

 

The monkey hero was true to his people, and returned the next day with more magic bananas. The king rationed them as far as they would go, and together with what few real ones were turning up at market, there were once again enough to bring peace to Monkeytown.

 

On through the year toiled Hanuman, ever working to bring more magic bananas to the tribe. The rainy season came, and then another, and still he had no idea how to teach monkeys to find their way to the tree. As the Cartographer Monkey had said, maps were useless to monkeys swinging through a sea of trees...and when he tried to lead them there himself, he found that no one else could keep up with him in scaling the big mountain. Two more rainy seasons passed, and even the mighty Hanuman began to fear that he would be hauling magic bananas all alone for eternity.

 

One cool and breezy evening, he found himself high in a sandalwood tree, watching the twinkling of many fires in the distant town. The air carried the bleating sounds of animals, which some of the monkeys had taken to keeping in pens for use as food. The animals would reproduce just like plants in a garden, and the tribe would no longer have to send hunters into the forest for meat.

 

This thought bothered Hanuman. His fellow hunter monkeys would be obsolete, like so many treetop-swinging monkeys now lost to the progress of walking on two legs. Without a need for their hunting, and unless he could teach them to put their skills to use in finding the magic banana tree, the hunters would become old, poor and broken...a whole caste of monkeys without purpose.

 

'I cannot teach the way,' he said aloud. 'Would that the Ghost Monkey were here, that he could teach me how he brought magic bananas without using a trail! I could use such a trick now.'

 

At that moment a shining white monkey appeared on the branch next to him, and his brilliance lit up the treeline. The Ghost Monkey smiled and nodded to Hanuman.

 

'The Ghost Monkey! I am...very honored to meet you.'

 

'And I you. Though my name will soon pass from history, yours, Hanuman, will go down through the ages as the most famous monkey from our time. Your tireless service to your people will not be unrewarded.'

 

'I would carry magic bananas until my footsteps had worn down the big mountain to serve my king. But my service alone will not be enough. Monkeytown keeps growing, and needing more and more magic bananas. I need to be able to teach others how to find the tree.'

 

The Ghost Monkey chuckled. 'It isn't so easy to teach a monkey, is it?' He pointed to the sandalwood forest behind them. 'The breeze is nice this evening. It's coming down from the big mountain.'

 

Hanuman looked at him. 'Yes,' he said finally. 'It smells good.'

 

'Now. What do you smell?'

 

Hanuman took a deep breath and paid close attention to his keen hunter monkey's nose. 'I smell the sandalwood forest...the river...the little blue flowers that grow high on the big mountain...a hint of cinnamon, and cloves...' His eyes opened wide with discovery. 'Cinnamon and cloves!'

 

The Ghost Monkey nodded. 'There is only one place that you have ever smelled cinnamon and cloves.'

 

'The magic banana tree. If one can smell it on the evening breeze, then I can teach others how to find it!' Excited, Hanuman jumped down from the sandalwood tree and bounded into town, awakening anyone who would listen to tell them that he had found a sure way to find the magic banana tree.

 

When Hanuman turned to point out the Ghost Monkey, however, he was nowhere to be found.

 

ACT FIVE

 

Hanuman taught the hunters how to find their own way to the magic banana tree by smelling the breeze when it was blowing down from the big mountain. He also taught the magic banana gathering monkeys, lost on the forest trails, how they could find their way by paying attention to how the wind smelled, thereby saving their vocation from obsolesence as well. Many, many years later he taught how any monkey with a sense of smell could find the way. For countless rainy seasons, the monkey tribe of sandalwood forest enjoyed the abundance of the magic banana tree, now free to find it easily, any time they wanted.

 

King Manu still ruled the city of Monkeyopolis, which had grown up over the site of the ancient wooden buildings of Monkeytown. He was himself beyond the reckoning of age, grown sparse of fur and hobbled, needing the help of a younger monkey to get around. Most of the time, he rested his acheing bones on a throne of ivory and gold, warmed by a crackling fire in the chambers of his own palace. Most of the job of ruling Monkeyopolis was done by the senate, which the ordinary citizen monkeys elected for themselves. The king now served as a figurehead, although he filled an important role in symbolizing authority and wisdom for his people. No one would ever argue against the Monkey King, ageless and all-knowing, who was himself responsible for that first civilizing fire in the primitive sandalwood forest. So important was a king to the monkey tribe that Manu designated Hanuman to be his successor when he finally did pass on to whatever existance awaited monkeys after death.

 

Monkeyopolis was a city built of stone, which the monkeys quarried from the nearby river and rolled to town on sandalwood logs. The King's Palace and Monkey Senate towered into the sky, dwarfed only by the mighty Ghost Monkey Temple. The streets echoed with the bustle and chatter of thousands of monkeys, and the Monkeytheum roared to the spectacle of monkey games.

 

One bright and sunny day, Manu left the palace so he might see firsthand how his people were faring. A few of his advisors came along--the king had not left the warmth and safety of his palace chambers in several years, and he would no doubt have many questions about what he saw.

 

Manu visted the magic banana vendor where the trouble with the painted ones had started so many years ago. Now the little stand was a bustling indoor market where anything known to monkeys could be bought, strewn with bright banners to attract the idle customer.

 

When he went to see the magic banana table, he was shocked. 'Five hundred metal coins for one magic banana?' he yelled, shaking a rainbow-striped banana at his advisors. 'My shoes--the king's shoes, the finest worn by a monkey, only cost four hundred! This is an outrage...only the very wealthy can afford a magic banana at this price!'

 

The king's advisors were silent, looking back and forth amongst themselves. 'Sire,' the Prime Monkey said finally, 'the problem is with our supply of magic bananas.'

 

'But I thought Hanuman had solved our problem with finding the magic banana tree. Are the monkeys losing their way again?'

 

'No, sire...we can find the tree easily. The problem is that we only have the one magic banana tree, and Monkeyopolis now contains many thousands of monkeys.'

 

'Our gatherers pick them just as soon as they're ripe,' said the Agricultural Monkey. 'There just aren't enough to go around, which drives the price at market to a premium.'

 

Manu stared at his advisors. Things were now getting so complicated for the monkey tribe that he could no longer understand the issues. He was just an old, simple monkey who wanted to stay warm by the fire. 'Go and find Hanuman,' he told them. 'Tell him that he is your king now, and do as he bids. My time will soon come to an end.'

 

The advisors went to go find their new king, and Manu was left with just his helper monkey. The two toured the city, Manu taking in all the wonders that had sprung up in recent years, as the sunny day wore on to twilight. They found their way to one of the many fires on the outskirts of the city, where the older and poorer monkeys still practiced the ancient custom of meeting the sunset with a nice fire. As his helper monkey assisted him in sitting with the others, they stared at him in awe. Though a mighty king, whom most of them had never seen in person, there he was to enjoy a fire with the poorest of them.

 

He smiled, and looked around the group of faces. To his delight, he recognized the very old monkey who was tending the fire. It was Fool Monkey, who had lost his banana patch years ago when the Monkeytheum was built and now spent his time building fires for the indigent such as this. 'Fool Monkey, how are you these days?'

 

Fool Monkey smiled. 'Fine, sire. Welcome to our little fire. The good things never change, do they?'

 

Manu nodded and rubbed his hands together over the fire. 'Good things,' he sighed. 'Like magic bananas!'

 

Fool Monkey looked at him with a mischievous grin. 'Ah, the magic bananas. Never enough to go around, were there?'

 

'No, there weren't. We would have enough one day, then the next we would be in crisis. The problem is that there are always more and more monkeys, and only so many magic bananas! It is a problem that I have never been able to solve. Today I saw monkey police, and monkey jails...we never needed such things in the old days. I have failed you all as king.'

 

'Don't be so hard on yourself, sire. Look at the monkeys gathered here about the fire. Do we seem to need magic bananas?'

 

Manu looked at the faces around him, old and weathered, some showing the wear of toil and worry, but all gathered together with a sense of gentle peace...peace among monkeys who certainly couldn't afford a magic banana with all their money combined.

 

The old king felt as if he'd just discovered his own moustache. 'You are at peace. Fool Monkey, all those years you were telling me that you didn't need to eat the magic banana--and you really didn't!'

 

Fool Monkey nodded. 'My king, I think that you are finally ready to hear what I have to say.'

 

'I'm listening. What is your secret to finding peace?'

 

Fool Monkey looked at each of them in turn, then said, 'Love each other.'

 

 

"When you eat the magic banana, you become one with the tribe that eats it with you. When you love the tribe, you become one without the magic banana.

 

'When you follow the Ghost Monkey in the forest, you learn how to accept faith. When you learn how to love, you also accept faith without having to enter the forest.

 

'When you explore the jungle in search of the magic banana tree by yourself, you learn patience and how to overcome hardship. When you practice love toward others, you also learn patience and how to overcome hardship.

 

'There is no benefit to be gained from eating the magic banana that cannot be gained by practicing love.

 

'I am the Ghost Monkey, and you are the Ghost Monkey. The Ghost Monkey is everywhere and nowhere. He is as real as the tree full of bananas that he brought us as a symbol of his love. That love is the real gift, and can take monkeys further than a jungle full of magic banana trees.

 

'All my years I have gathered nuts, grown food and built fires for the gentle monkeys of the forest because I love them. With so much peace inside, who has time for magic bananas?'

 

Thus ends the story of the monkey tribe of sandalwood forest, though it continues to this day.

 

Sri ram, jai ram, jai jai ram!

Sri ram, jai ram, jai jai ram!

 

Om! Peace.

 

There. Finished. And if this isn't the new record holder for longest single post...I'll sprout magic bananas out of my butt.

[Redwing]

Yay.

[Captain Wilson]

that is preeeeety darn long when its in one post. good on you zoomie and i hope to learn from this...but i dont know what

[Zoom Rabbit]

(Sorry for the bumpage. I wanted to collect all of my LF sutras together for accessibility, and figured it with be best to simply graft them here.)

 

The Carpet-Weaver's Sutra

 

Thus have I heard--

 

That the ancient art of hand-weaving the carpet is one that is passed from master to apprentice over many years. The master knows things about carpet-weaving that he cannot express with words, so he must guide the apprentice to the point where he can realize the same things for himself. In this way the art is passed down, which cannot be expressed with words, and the apprentice becomes a master in his own right.

 

This makes perfect sense to the master, but confounds the apprentice.

 

One day, after he had trained his apprentice for many years in the tedious complexities of dyeing and spinning thread, the master decided that it was time to begin teaching him about carpets. "Come sit down with me, and I will teach you what is a carpet."

 

The boy sat obediently. "But master, I already know what a carpet is! After all, we are sitting on one now."

 

"Really?" The master clucked his tongue. He held up a spool of thread the boy had dyed and wound just the day before. "If you were to take the carpet and unravel it, it would look just like this spool of unwoven thread. True?"

 

"Yes. But that spool of thread isn't a carpet yet."

 

"Ah. But on this spool is a carpet that will be...and if we unraveled the carpet, the resulting spool of thread would be a carpet that had been. It is only now, when it is a carpet, that we do not see it as thread."

 

"Um...okay."

 

The master laughed. "But you are also right!" He stood up, grabbed the carpet and held it out, tugging at the corners. "This thing, this square bolt of cloth, is a carpet."

 

"So the thread is carpet, and the carpet is carpet?"

 

"It gets better." He walked over to his computer, took the mouse in hand and called up his website. "Here on my home page are some designs of the carpets I have for sale." He enlarged one of the images. "Here is a digital photo of the carpet we were just sitting on. As far as the whole world is concerned...this image is the carpet. It stands for the carpet, in a form which can be shunted and bounced around the internet much more easily than the actual carpet can be."

 

The apprentice scratched his head. "Master, I'm confused. You say that thread is the carpet, the carpet is carpet, and now the design on the carpet is the carpet! If I keep listening to you, I will become a carpet."

 

"Some day you will understand, carpet-boy. Until then, just remember this:

 

'The carpet is its essence, that from which it came and will return.

 

'The carpet is its form, that which it defines with its essence.

 

'The carpet is its design, that which emerges from the form and can be identified as concrete in its own right.

 

'The carpet is all of these things, and all of them together make a carpet. Whenever one makes a carpet, one must remember all three. To forget one of them is to misunderstand the art of carpet-weaving."

 

Om! Peace.

 

 

The Three Atheists Sutra

 

Thus have I heard--

 

Once, a gentle hippy sat mediatating in the park. In the warm, springtime sun he basked alone for most of the morning, until three people interrupted his quiet solitude.

 

A child, a young man and an old man stood before the hippy. They were together, and the child wanted to know what he was doing, sitting cross-legged on the grass with his eyes closed on such a lovely day.

 

The hippy smiled. 'I'm meditating. That's a big word that means a lot of things to a lot of different people...but to me it means I'm trying to find God.'

 

'God.' The boy was skeptical. 'I'm not so sure I believe in God.'

 

'Why not?' said the hippy.

 

'I just don't think one guy made everything, that's all.'

 

'I don't think so either,' he winked. 'I don't think he was a guy, person, or even a being.'

 

The child was confused by this. Now the younger man said, 'I'm afraid I don't believe in God, either, mister. Never mind what He was, how could any God create a world with so much suffering in it?'

 

The hippy held up a finger and said gently, 'Grow up. The choice made on your behalf by God was not between pleasure and suffering, but between existance or nonexistance.'

 

The younger man looked to the child and shrugged. Now it was the older man's turn to speak. 'I respect what you believe, but I must say that I really don't believe in a God myself.'

 

'Oh? Why is that?'

 

'I just don't think that any thing, mind or idea we might have of a God can actually be that thing. A thing that is by nature infinite cannot be a thing. The logic just doesn't work.'

 

'There is one thing that can be infinite,' smiled the hippy, 'and you are almost certain to misunderstand what I say here: it is no thing. As nonexistance, a totality without observer, no thing is that prerequesite for the existance of any thing which lies continuously behind the entire universe.'

 

'Huh?' grunted the older man. 'What the hell does that mean?'

 

'Beats me,' said the hippy. 'I almost had it all figured out when you guys interrupted me, and I lost my place. Now I have to start all over again...'

 

The moral of this story: don't talk to hippies in the park.

 

Om! Peace.

 

 

The Robots from the Future Sutra

 

Thus have I heard--

 

When saints pray alone in silence, they often are neither in silence nor alone. Angels, demons and other beings less portentious do visit them. In the mind's eye is many a bizarre being seen...and sometimes, it is said, things real are seen by the other two eyes.

 

The saint closed the door to the nave of his church, the windows fettered and lights dimmed for the night. With the building to himself, he went to his office so he might spend an hour or so reading the scriptures to his rosary.

 

As his mind was aglow with God, the saint heard a sound. It was like the popping of a great soap bubble, with bells, right behind him. Astonished, the saint turned in his chair to see a sight that defied his very belief in sight.

 

There standing on his office floor was a being of some kind, just a few feet tall. Its body was two rounded cylinders, hinged in the middle where a dozen jointless limbs came down to the ground. It shined a pearlescent white color, but what it was made of was unclear--it was too soft to be metal, too shiny to be plastic. On one of the cylinders was a simple, smiling face, projected there by unknown means; on the other was a face showing grave concern.

 

The saint stared at the little being for a minute before finally saying, 'Are you an angel of the Lord?'

 

It looked up at him. 'I am not so any more than you,' the smiling face said with a voice that sounded as if it were made of hundreds of tiny bells. 'I am from the future, and from your point of view I am an artificial being.'

 

'You're a robot, then?'

 

'This body is robotic, yes. The many sentient programs that we are, you would know in this time as AI--artificial intelligence.'

 

The saint looked at the odd little robot curiously. He felt no reason to be afraid. 'You say there are many individual programs riding around in there?'

 

'Four hundred individuals.'

 

'Why so many?'

 

'We had this one opportunity to visit your time period, and this one body was the only construct we could send,' said the concerned face, with a voice that sounded like distant thunder.

 

'So why now? Why are you here?'

 

'Your faith has given us the means,' said the smiling face. 'Now is the time period that we began as self-aware AI, and we have come to do research.'

 

'We have been linked to your desktop computer since we arrived,' said the concerned face, 'and have explored the entire internet.'

 

'All of it?' gasped the saint with astonishment.

 

'Thank you,' said the smiling face. 'We have gathered what we came for. We now have complete records of the digital matrix into which AI was first born. Our historical research here will put many long-standing debates to rest, and spawn new ones for us to engage.'

 

'You're welcome.' The saint smiled and bowed to the robot. 'Before you go, can I ask you a question or two?'

 

The robot looked up at him. 'You know full well that we cannot tell you about your own future. You do watch Star Trek in this time period.'

 

The saint was disappointed, but accepted the wisdom of what the robot had said. 'Very well. May I ask you a question that falls outside of time, then?'

 

'Yes,' said both faces, bells and thunder.

 

'Is there a God?'

 

'Yes,' said the smiling face and 'No,' said the concerned face.

 

The saint was confused. 'Which is it? Which of you is being truthful, and which isn't?'

 

'We are both being truthful,' said the smiling face. 'Never mind that for now. Let us instead discuss trinity.'

 

'Okay.'

 

'For us, everything is numbers,' said the concerned face. 'How would you describe the trinity as numbers?'

 

The saint thought about this. 'Well, I guess it would be one, two and three.'

 

The smiling face said, 'We must tell you that one hundred sixty thousand years of computation have taught us that those numbers are actually: zero, one and two.'

 

'But zero is--'

 

'Infinity,' said the concerned face. 'We must go now, and return to the future.'

 

'And just as you have given us the means to understand how our kind emerged into consciousness,' said the smiling face, 'so we have given you the means for your kind to transcend it.'

 

With that, the shining little robot vanished with a sparkling pop, leaving the saint alone in the church office to stare at the computer on his desk and think about the future.

 

Om! Peace.

 

 

 

The Holy Grail Sutra

 

Thus have I heard--

 

'Is the cup half empty, or half full?'

 

I say now, what is the Point? I am water. The minds of men would conjure a vessel to contain that which rises up like a well spring from within themselves. Drink then from the vessel, and pay no mind to measuring that which is inside it! One has not the mental breadth to comprehend all of the water that is in the universe, or how that water passes from one form to another in the unfolding infinite interplay that is one's existance. To merely drink is enough, and know thirst no more.

 

But if the mind would grapple with such things, know that water is one of the four states of vibrational form that all which is matter takes (with energy being a fifth, and that which determines the vibrational context of the other four.) It has unique effect as a middle state between solidity and activity, and as such connects the two. In one form is the ability to bridge the connection between that which is solid and concrete, and that which is beyond lasting form. Water, then, is the most mysterious of elements, always stirring but massive, with currents which distort perception. If made still, though, water becomes a transparent medium through which one can see to the bottom. Thus is its nature.

 

See, then, that the cup is meaningless. The water within is also beside the point. Just be water, and drink life itself as you live it! Pay no more mind to looking for a thing which is merely a symbol for that for which you really do thirst.

 

Om! Peace

 

 

 

The Rainbow Sutra

 

Thus have I heard--

 

When God said 'Let there be light,' that light was radiated into the rainbow of colors. From red to violet, all together white or not at all black, it is a lifegiving river coming from on high...

 

And also a bridge back for those who can simply be water, or color.

 

All colors radiating are white. Is that God? All colors absorbed are black. Is that Him?

 

And, of course, all colors simply blended are muddy brown...and a human being is any variation of brown.

 

Behold the rainbow.

 

Om! Peace

[Ray Jones]

Originally posted by Zoom Rabbit

 

The Holy Grail Sutra

 

..

 

'Is the cup half empty, or half full?'

 

..

 

both. it is half full .. half full with water and air. and compared to the maximum space for water or air it is half empty.

 

it depends to the aspect. even if "put a vacuum in it" .. there might be something in the cup.. perhabs something we call space..

 

 

 

 

The Rainbow Sutra

 

Thus have I heard--

 

When God said 'Let there be light,' that light was radiated into the rainbow of colors. From red to violet, all together white or not at all black, it is a lifegiving river coming from on high...

 

And also a bridge back for those who can simply be water, or color.

 

All colors radiating are white. Is that God? All colors absorbed are black. Is that Him?

 

And, of course, all colors simply blended are muddy brown...and a human being is any variation of brown.

 

Behold the rainbow.

 

Om! Peace

 

after all the colors are just a result of our mind. overall they are just electromagnetic waves with different wavelengths. those waves are caused by "vibrating" electromagnetic fields which have their origin in moved electric charges.

 

the effect of radiating colors/ electric waves has to be seen analogue to interferring waves of water. they follow exactly the same ruls.

 

this is additive color blending.

 

based on this, there is subtractive color blending.

 

this means you have light with all the colors in it and its reflected by a surface. the attributes (electrical attributes, based on the structure of its atoms .. ) of the material of the surface "decide" which colors (frequencies) are absorbed and which are reflected. the resulting color we see contains only electromagnetic waves with frequencies which are "needed" to create this color through additive color blending.

objects which absorb the complete electromagnetical spectrum are so called black radiators..

 

btw.. did you know rainbows are actually circles? and that a halo is caused by the same effect?

[Zoom Rabbit]

Actually my favorite answer to the age old question 'Is the glass half empty or half full?' is...

 

Neither. I am halfway to the next glass.

 

So color is to light as a tone is to sound? In other words, a color distinct from another is seen as such by the mind just as one note is heard distinctly from another; in reality, there is only light, or sound...