One cool spring morning a fly entered a monastery just before morning prayers. Alighting on the wall behind the seated monks, it remained motionless throughout. A young monk noticed the fly and its noble action so at the end of prayers, stood and bowed gassho.
The following morning the fly returned and again remained motionless during prayers, and once again the young monk acknowledged it with a gassho.
Alas flies have a very short life span and soon died; and the young monk was sad when it no longer appeared each morning.
The following summer, a cicada flew into the monastery landing on the wall behind the seated monks and remained silent during the prayers. The young monk beamed with delight as he recognised this cicada to be the fly that visited during the spring so bowed again in respect knowing that the cicada would die soon, but he also knew in his heart they would meet again.
Summer soon passed into autumn and into winter. It was a bitter winter and the young monk fell ill. As he lay one very cold night, knowing he would not see the morning sun; a young nightingale landed on the window sill and began to sing a most beautiful haunting tune.
Twenty years later on a cool spring morning, a young prince was riding his horse through the wood when he came upon a most fair young woman sitting beneath a fig tree. He dismounted his steed and as he came near, her beauty opened his mind. Instantly the prince fell to his knees and began to sing; she replied with a graceful gassho.
not knowing of our future lives
bow in reverence before a fly
spring, summer, autumn, winter -
the nightingale song