Once, in a crumbling temple at the edge of a forgotten village, there lived a monk named Sesshin. He was known for his harsh discipline and his even harsher tongue. To his disciples, he often said, “You are buta no gotoki — like pigs. Rooting in mud, blind to the sky.”
He entered the master’s room, carrying a bowl of broth made from muddy yams. buta no gotoki
Sesshin wept. He drank the broth. And in that ruined temple, under a roof that no longer kept out the rain, the master became the student. Once, in a crumbling temple at the edge