Japan, Long Ago: The blind monk had spent the day visiting with a venerable master, high up in the mountains, and now the day was drawing to a close. The venerable master fetched the visitor’s staff and his cloak, and said, “Wait! I have prepared a lantern for your trip down the path.”
The blind monk laughed, saying, “Day and Night are alike to me. I do not need a lantern.”
But the master persisted, saying, “It is not for you. Your feet are sure. It is for the protection of other travelers in the dark, that they might see your lantern and not bump into you.”
“Oh,” said the blind monk. “How thoughtful. Very well.”
And holding the lantern on the end of his staff, he strode off into the night.
All went well for the first half of his journey.
But as he crossed over a narrow bridge over a great chasm, suddenly bump! He’d run into somebody! The blind monk was frightened, and then irate.
“What’s the matter with you?” he demanded. “Didn’t you see my lantern!”
“Brother,” said the other traveler, “Your light has gone out.”
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