In the haze of the evening, the flock of sheep was simultaneously grazing, dozing and slowly moving — the quiet occasionally punctuated by the plaintive sound of a lamb searching for its mother…

Fai, the shepherd, was a young village man tending the herd and attempting to maintain the illusion of stability and control. He was making camp and bedding down for the night, while holding a soft conversation with the Monk, Doshu, who was out taking the evening air.

Fai was in a foul mood, the day’s work weighing heavily upon him. His charges had been especially difficult today, and he was lamenting his lowly station and rocky bed. “All sheep are stupid, Master Doshu!” he was saying… “But these particular Sheep are the most unworthy of all creatures!” His scowling countenance and stooped posture seemed more appropriate for an old man of sixty, broken by life, than for a youth of eighteen. Yet he was not to be deterred as he lamented his sorry, sour, shepherd’s fate.

Sheep are prey animals, and instinctively flock together for safety; keeping eyes, ears and noses constantly tuned to warn of predators. From Fai’s recumbent position this night, the flock looked more like a single mass of billowing white sea foam — with legs. And the presumed weight of that mass was a terrible, backbreaking burden.

Master Doshu nodded tolerantly and said, “Well, Brother Fai, that may be so, but I’ve been told that ‘a good shepherd doesn’t despise the sheep.’ After all, they feed you, provide not only wool for clothing, but also milk and cheese and also graze and clear land without your turning a hand… Their presence would seem to require yours — or are you meeting a princess tonight?”

As Fai considered this, missing the implicit humor, something spooked the herd; then, another sound whipped them into an instant, deadly mob, stampeding headlong through the meadow, directly toward the shepherd’s camp… Seconds from being over-run, Fai froze in fear.

Master Doshu, however, instantly stood to his full height, raised both arms, opened his robe, brandished his staff, and bellowed something frightening and incomprehensible. Lit by the rays of the setting sun, he magically became a massive and forbidding presence, swelling up, seemingly out of thin air! The lead animals seeing him, recoiled and quickly turned away from this new terror, running down the slope and narrowly avoiding going over the side of a nearby stream embankment. There, they slowed, and seeing no danger, came to a stop, returning once again to quiescent grazing.

Crisis averted, Master Doshu let out a sigh, resumed the stature of a dusty monk, and slowly eased himself down to rest on a stone as he lit his pipe…

Young Fai, heart still beating wildly, was not as easily calmed. Though his life had just been saved by the miraculous display of the humble monk, he ungraciously busied himself with minutia; fuming about the overturning of his tea kettle, the disturbance of the fire and tripping over his bedding… “By heaven,” he said, nursing his skinned shin, “See? How do I put up with this stupid accumulation of mindless creatures? I should walk away and let them perish!”

Once again, Doshu gently attempted to point out the brighter side… “Well young sir, these sheep certainly need a shepherd, which gives you a job. They support your family, feed the village, clear the land, and warn of impending danger. And, I’ve observed that sheep are almost always less critical than humans… They seem to tolerate you much more affectionately than you tolerate them! After all, they are merely sheep. But you have a choice!”

Fai’s exasperation boiled over at this! He stood to his full (if unimpressive) height and pointed at the seated Master. “What?” said Fai… “What choice? Am I supposed to Love these sheep?”

“That’s very close!” said Doshu. “Choose! To love your life and your sheep — or choose to change. But whatever your choice, love it! Because in choosing and loving, you change everything — including yourself.”

Exasperated, but now enlightened, Fai posed one final question: “I understand. But Master, How can one love a sheep?”

“That’s a good question!” said Doshu,
“But a better one is: ‘How can you not?’”