The Monk Eunbong and the Ladder to Enlightenment

There was a monk named Eunbong. Eunbong asked Master Seokdu:

"How can I unite with the Tao?"

"I have not yet united with the Tao either."

"Then what will become of us in the end?"

"How long have you been deceived by the Tao?"

Eunbong was suddenly struck speechless.

How can I unite with the Tao? How can I become one with emptiness? How can I pluck the jewel of emptiness? And thus become one with that jewel?

The problem here is not uniting with the Tao, but the word "how." The phrase "how can I" is asking for a method. This means understanding through a ladder. It's asking which ladder to climb and how to climb it. The word "how" always refers to a ladder.

You are climbing a ladder step by step toward success, or toward some form of self-realization. You have been educated to live this way since childhood. Therefore, you are not clear about why you climb the ladder. Those who are at least clear about this will eventually reach their destination. No matter how much time it takes, they will reach that endpoint. However, most of you do not reach that result. From the first floor to the second floor, from the second floor to the third floor, you climb with difficulty. While doing so, you lose sight of your goal. And you think:

"At least I've climbed this far."

People who consider themselves somewhat educated often say: "The process is important, not the result."

But let us think about this. Saying the process is important means only the process is important. If the person performing that process has no vision, then that process is useless. Many people use this statement to rationalize themselves. When their goals are frustrated or when those goals are unclear, they say: "The process is what matters."

This means: "Haven't I at least stepped on a few more stairs through that process? Even though I haven't reached a new floor."

But I say this: "Neither the process nor the result is important. What matters is you yourself."

Think about it. Whether you go from the first floor to the second, from the second to the third, or from the top floor to the rooftop, it's all the same. What is there when you finally reach the rooftop? There is nothing there. Looking up at the sky from the bottom is the same as looking up at the sky from the top of the rooftop. Whether you pursue your desires and become rich or enjoy power, it's ultimately the same. Even if someone enjoys power at the top, that person is still under the same sky. They might be happy for a moment about having climbed to the rooftop, but looking up at the sky is the same in the end.

If that person is truly intelligent, they will climb to the rooftop and look at the sky. They will look at the sky, not at the rooftop. Thus, the person who realizes that their ladder gains them nothing is the truly intelligent one. However, the person who says the process is important is someone who has not yet climbed to the rooftop. The person who says "Haven't I climbed up at least this much?" is someone trapped in their own world. Because whether you're on the third floor or the thirtieth floor, you're equally struggling within the stairwell.

Someone climbed to a high peak in the Himalayas and shouted: "I have conquered the Himalayas. I got closest to the sky. I climbed to the highest heaven."

That person is a fool. Just because he climbed the Himalayas wearing an oxygen mask, was the Himalayas conquered by him? The Himalayas are not conquered. Rather, how can that person conquer the Himalayas while being captivated by the Himalayas? It would be different if he had conquered himself.

The statement "I got closest to the sky" is also ridiculous. If someone in a satellite were to look down at that person, they might say, "What's that person doing hanging upside down from the top of the Himalayas?" At that moment, that man was hanging from the very bottom of the earth. Because from the satellite's perspective, the earth is round.

The sky at the top of the Himalayas and the sky right here in front of my nose are both sky just the same. The only problem is your brain that creates levels, calling it high sky or low sky.

There's a hymn that goes "Toward that high place." It means wanting to go to a high place. How can we ascend? We can never ascend. If you try to ascend, you will absolutely never ascend. If you struggle to ascend, you will only flail your hands in emptiness and never ascend. You must let go of those hands. You must let go of those hands and fall down to a low place. Then you can become emptiness. Because you are hanging upside down from the earth.

"How can I unite with the Tao?"

Eunbong was setting up a ladder. Seokdu gently spoke to remove that ladder:

"I have not yet united with the Tao either."

This was not said because Seokdu truly had not united with the Tao. Seokdu was already an enlightened person. He was someone who no longer needed to unite with the Tao. Because his life itself was the Tao. Saying "I have not united with the Tao either" means the Tao is not something you unite with by trying to unite with it—in other words, remove that ladder of trying to unite.

"Then what will become of us in the end? If even you, Master, have not united with the Tao, what use is it to seek the Tao in the end? Are you saying I have no hope of enlightenment?"

"How long have you been deceived by the Tao? How long have you been earnestly wandering in search of the Tao? That is, how long have you been deceived by those stairs you're earnestly climbing, earnestly ascending in the world of 'earnestness'?"

Then Eunbong was enlightened. "I've been deceiving myself all this time!"

Eunbong's thoughts suddenly broke off, and something struck his chest with a thud as he fell into emptiness. Eunbong must have muttered frantically: "Oh! I was deceived! I was deceived by myself. Uniting with emptiness—what is there to unite with? What will become of the end, and what of the beginning? Yes! Yes! I was truly deceived!"

Eunbong returned home singing.

This Zen story illustrates the futility of seeking enlightenment through methodical effort and the paradox that trying to reach the Tao keeps us from it. True understanding comes not from climbing higher, but from letting go of the very notion that there is somewhere to climb to.