1. The Two Merchants and the Master's Tea

Two merchants, one renowned for his cheerful disposition and the other for his perpetual gloom, visited the Zen master, Ryotan. As Ryotan prepared tea, the cheerful merchant spoke of the morning's sunrise, the taste of a fresh persimmon, the curious shape of a passing cloud, and the pleasant feel of the worn stones on the path to the monastery. His words flowed like a river, touching upon all things with a light and easy grace.

The sullen merchant, however, remained silent. When the master inquired about his journey, the merchant spoke only of a single stone on the path that had troubled his cart. He described its size, its jagged edges, and the jolt it sent through his wares, complaining at length about this solitary obstacle.

A young student, observing this, later asked the master, "Why did the first merchant speak of so many small things, while the second spoke only of one?"

Ryotan poured the student a cup of tea and said, "The happy man's cup is already full, so he may freely share its contents. The unhappy man's cup is empty, save for a single stone he cannot see beyond."

At that, the student looked into his own cup. He suddenly saw not just the tea, but the warmth of the clay, the light on the surface, and the steam that carried its scent to everything in the room. His own mind, which had been fixed on a single question, suddenly opened.
2. The Silent Garden and the Buzzing Bee

A novice monk, Kenji, was tasked with tending the monastery's garden. He noticed two older monks who would often sit on a bench overlooking his work. One, Brother Kai, would sit with a serene smile, his eyes taking in the entire garden. When Kenji would approach, Kai would speak of the patterns of the leaves, the industry of the ants, the warmth of the sun, and the coolness of the breeze.

The other monk, Brother Jin, would sit with a furrowed brow, his gaze fixed upon a single withered plant in an otherwise flourishing bed. When Kenji would ask for his thoughts, Jin would only ever speak of the blight, the weakness of the stem, and the certainty of its decay.

Puzzled, Kenji approached the abbot. "The garden is vast and beautiful, yet Brother Jin sees only the dying plant. Brother Kai, however, seems to find delight in every corner. Why is this so?"

The abbot, pointing to a bee pollinating a flower, replied, "The bee that is full of nectar from a thousand blossoms sees a field of endless possibility. The bee that is fixated on a single empty flower will only ever know lack."

The next morning, Kenji returned to the garden. He looked at the withered plant, but for the first time, his gaze did not stop there. He saw the beetle climbing its stem, the healthy soil from which it grew, and the vibrant, living blossoms that surrounded it. From that day on, he tended to the whole garden.
3. The Echo in the Valley

A young seeker named Haru traveled to a remote valley to find a wise hermit who was said to understand the nature of happiness. He found the hermit sitting by a stream, his face etched with contentment. Not far away, in the shadow of a cliff, sat another man, his face a mask of sorrow.

Haru approached the hermit and asked, "Master, what is the secret to your joy?" The hermit smiled and began to speak of the water's song, the strength of the ancient stones, the dance of the fish in the current, and the feel of the moss beneath his feet. His conversation was a tapestry woven from the threads of everything around him.

Later, Haru approached the sorrowful man and asked, "Why are you so unhappy?" The man glared and spoke only of the steepness of the cliff, the darkness of its shadow, and how it blocked the sun. He repeated these complaints as if they were the only words he knew.

Confused, Haru returned to the hermit. "The happy man speaks of everything, and the unhappy man speaks of only one thing. How can this be?"

The hermit picked up a small, smooth stone and a larger, jagged rock. He held them out and said, "The happy heart is like the river, it touches all stones and is shaped by none. The unhappy heart is like the cliff, it is defined by a single, immovable shadow."

Haru stood and listened. He heard the gurgle of the stream, the whisper of the wind against the cliff face, and the distant call of a bird. The shadow was no longer just a shadow, but a part of the valley's whole and perfect song. He bowed to the hermit and walked away with nothing, yet possessing the entire valley.