A man traveling across a field encountered a tiger. He fled, with the tiger hot on his tail. Coming to a cliff, he caught hold of the root of a wild vine and swung himself down over the edge of the cliff. The tiger sniffed at him from above. Trembling, the man looked down, and there, far below, another tiger was waiting to eat him. Only the vine sustained him.
Two mice, one black and one white, little by little, started to gnaw away at the vine. The man noticed a luscious strawberry near him. Grasping the vine with one hand, he plucked the strawberry with the other hand. How sweet it tasted.
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When I first heard this koan, I thought the tiger above represented birth--from which you cannot return. And I thought the tiger below represented death--from which there is no escape. I surmised that the vine represented our physical life force from which we hang between birth and death.
I figured that the mice represented time, gnawing away at the life force, making our appointment with the tiger below an inevitable conclusion; the fact that they were black and white pointed to the ever-present duality--up-down, left-right, this-that, happy-sad, and hence, life-death; can't have one without the other.
And I imagined that the strawberry represented any and every thing that was in front of us in the here and now. With nothing to look back at and nothing to look forward to, the only thing that makes sense is to enjoy the strawberry in front of us; there really is nothing else--only the moment. Following that line of thought, I started seeing other humans as strawberries--some ripe; some not; some having gotten not enough sun; etc. If we actually knew what motivates those in front of us, we would find it difficult to judge them. Liars and thieves are motivated by their fear of lack.
But then I realized I had missed the mark on this one. Turns out the meaning of this koan is as obvious as it is profound. Never cross an open field without a high-powered rifle, especially in tiger country. For, not only will you die kicking and screaming, but you'll also be forced to settle for just a single strawberry as your last meal. Pretty sad.
Or, it could be interpreted as meaning that one should never cross an open field in tiger country without at least a BB-pistol. If the guy in the koan had been carrying a BB-pistol, he could have removed those mice from the equation. The mice were the real problem because if it hadn't been for them, the guy could have waited until the tiger above him got bored enough to seek food elsewhere, at which time he could have made his escape.
Also, given that those mice could have been off eating wild fruits, nuts, seeds, mushrooms, etc., it is obvious that they were NOT chewing at that tasteless and nutrition-less vine for sustenance. They saw the situation and knew what would happen if the integrity of that vine was compromised, and so they got busy with the compromising. What a warped sense of humor. The guy never did anything to them, so they both had a BB coming to them.
Two mice, one black and one white, little by little, started to gnaw away at the vine. The man noticed a luscious strawberry near him. Grasping the vine with one hand, he plucked the strawberry with the other hand. How sweet it tasted.
______________________________________________________________________________
When I first heard this koan, I thought the tiger above represented birth--from which you cannot return. And I thought the tiger below represented death--from which there is no escape. I surmised that the vine represented our physical life force from which we hang between birth and death.
I figured that the mice represented time, gnawing away at the life force, making our appointment with the tiger below an inevitable conclusion; the fact that they were black and white pointed to the ever-present duality--up-down, left-right, this-that, happy-sad, and hence, life-death; can't have one without the other.
And I imagined that the strawberry represented any and every thing that was in front of us in the here and now. With nothing to look back at and nothing to look forward to, the only thing that makes sense is to enjoy the strawberry in front of us; there really is nothing else--only the moment. Following that line of thought, I started seeing other humans as strawberries--some ripe; some not; some having gotten not enough sun; etc. If we actually knew what motivates those in front of us, we would find it difficult to judge them. Liars and thieves are motivated by their fear of lack.
But then I realized I had missed the mark on this one. Turns out the meaning of this koan is as obvious as it is profound. Never cross an open field without a high-powered rifle, especially in tiger country. For, not only will you die kicking and screaming, but you'll also be forced to settle for just a single strawberry as your last meal. Pretty sad.
Or, it could be interpreted as meaning that one should never cross an open field in tiger country without at least a BB-pistol. If the guy in the koan had been carrying a BB-pistol, he could have removed those mice from the equation. The mice were the real problem because if it hadn't been for them, the guy could have waited until the tiger above him got bored enough to seek food elsewhere, at which time he could have made his escape.
Also, given that those mice could have been off eating wild fruits, nuts, seeds, mushrooms, etc., it is obvious that they were NOT chewing at that tasteless and nutrition-less vine for sustenance. They saw the situation and knew what would happen if the integrity of that vine was compromised, and so they got busy with the compromising. What a warped sense of humor. The guy never did anything to them, so they both had a BB coming to them.
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