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Two monks were traveling in the rain, the mud sloshing under their feet. As they passed a river crossing, they saw a beautiful woman, finely dressed, unable to cross because of the mud. Without a word, the older monk simply picked up the woman and carried her to the other side.
The young monk, seemingly agitated for the rest of their journey, could not contain himself once they reached their destination. He exploded at the older monk. "How could you, a monk, even consider holding a woman in your arms, much less a young and beautiful one? It is against our teachings. It is dangerous."
"And you still carry her," said his older friend, smiling the faintest of smiles and bowing slightly. "I left her back at the river."
***
A story I am trying to keep in mind. Especially when I feel tempted to dive into heated discussion about Russian future or Russian politics.
( Когда меня тянет ввязаться в спор о Российской политике я вспоминаю эту историю )
The young monk, seemingly agitated for the rest of their journey, could not contain himself once they reached their destination. He exploded at the older monk. "How could you, a monk, even consider holding a woman in your arms, much less a young and beautiful one? It is against our teachings. It is dangerous."
"And you still carry her," said his older friend, smiling the faintest of smiles and bowing slightly. "I left her back at the river."
***
A story I am trying to keep in mind. Especially when I feel tempted to dive into heated discussion about Russian future or Russian politics.
( Когда меня тянет ввязаться в спор о Российской политике я вспоминаю эту историю )
