Tanzan and Ekido, two Zen monks of old, were travelling together down a muddy road. A heave rain was still falling.
Coming around a bend, they met a lovely girl in a silk kimono and sash, unable to cross a flooded intersection. “Come on, young lady,” said Tanzan at once. Lifting her in his arms, he carried her over the mud.
Ekido did not speak again until that night when they reached a lodging temple. Then he no longer could restrain himself. “We monks don’t go for females,” he told Tanzan, “especially young and lovely ones. It is dangerous. Why did you do that?”
“I left her at the puddle,” said Tanzan. “Are you still carrying her?
text source: Reps, P. (1961). Zen flesh, zen bones: a collection of zen and pre-zen writings. New York: Doubleday Anchor, p. 18. image credit: http://www.pbase.com/willa/stuff_and_nonsense