Kuan-yin, Chinese goddess of compassion, looked at the world and saw how most of the people had sadly lost their connection with spirituality. They had become mean to each other, and neglectful of the natural world and its wisdom. And they'd lost ritual, so they no longer had a reason to reconnect with spirit at the important times of year.
All of that made Kuan-yin very unhappy. Until, one day, she heard a call for help and knew she should respond. But it was no good just arriving and lecturing the people, they'd simply laugh, or turn their backs unbelieving, so she hatched a plan.
In a coastal fishing town, she materialised as a fresh-faced young woman and started to inhabit a run-down shack near the beach. She'd go out on the waves, like the other fishers and bring back a catch, and sell it at the market. It wasn't long before her lovely face and graceful movements caught the eye of almost every young man in the place.
Fifty of these eager young men turned up one day at her hovel, asking for her hand in marriage. They each brought a reason why she should choose them; a good business head, a strong fishing boat, a nice, warm home for her.
"Sirs," she began. "You're very kind, but I can't marry you all! Please, go away and find one of the old stories. Search in the archives, the libraries of the cities, and speak to the old people you know. Seek out those old stories that helped the people understand their lives, and tell them to each other. Ask the people which which story is best. Bring me the news and I will marry that man."
The fifty went away, but thirty returned, all with stories that had been voted by the townspeople as very special; they made them laugh, cry, think...remember.
"Sirs," said Kuan-yin. "There are so many of you – I cannot marry you all! Please, I wish you to each make up a new story. Remember how the old stories made you feel, and turn the feelings they gave you into something the people today can relate to and learn from. Tell your new stories to each other and to the people of the town. Then bring me the news of which story is best. I will marry that man."
The thirty young men went away, got out their brushes and parchments and began to compose. Finally just a handful returned, with newly created stories that had been voted by the townspeople as very special; they made them laugh, cry, think, remember…wake up in the mornings with renewed vigour.
"Sirs," said Kuan-yin. "There are still too many of you for me to marry! So I will set you a third task. Each of you should create a ritual. Use your understanding of the old stories, and your skills in creating new ones. Present each for the nourishment of the town. Let the town choose the best ritual and let that man be the one I marry."
The handful of men went away, talking excitedly. And Kuan-yen heard talk about the rituals that were performed, all over the town, and the buzz these created. People loved them, and wanted more. They couldn't decide which was the best, so three young men returned to Kuantans-yin's little cottage by the sea.
"Sirs," said Kuan-yin. "I cannot marry three of you! So this is your last task. Now you have story and ritual, you need a priest to guide and care for the people. I want you to choose, out of your small number, a priest, who will guide you and keep the stories and the rituals alive. I will marry that man."
The man chosen as the new priest of the area had fallen in love with the beautiful fishing girl who lived near the beach. From the moment he'd first seen her, he had wanted her as his wife. So with gladness in his heart, as soon as he was chosen, he deserted the other men and ran like a hare towards the beach. He tapped on her door respectfully, but when she didn't answer, he hammered his fists on it and cried out;
"It's me, my darling, come to claim you as my bride!"
The man fell to his knees and sobbed out his sorrow. But he heard his love's voice in his head...seek out those old stories that helped the people understand their lives, then think about your lives today...turn the feelings they gave you into something the people today can relate to and learn from. Use the old stories, and your new skills to create rituals for the nourishment of the town, then choose a priest to guide and care for the people...
I think we know what it feels like to be deeply moved by the pain and suffering of others.
Kuan Yin sitting on a lotus, a willow branch and a water jar
in her hands, at a shop in Saigon. Photo © nationsonline.org
We compare those struggles to our own, however varied the experience might be; most of us have a measure of sorrow and struggle in this life. Through the world media, we are able to understand how many people are asked to bear the unbearable—starvation, tragedy, and hardship beyond our imagining. Our loved ones experience illness, pain, and heartache, and we long to ease their burden. Kuan-yin is often called upon, not only because she shows ceaseless compassion to those who love her, but because she helps us to understand compassionate feelings and actions ourselves. When we feel and act compassionately towards others, unsurprisingly, we do ourself psychological good, too. We only have to recall the last time we slipped someone an unexpected gift and their face told us how much they appreciated it. We can all get a bit self-fixatated, and in showing compassion, especially more widely that our own family and close group of friends, it feels as if we move towards liberating our own spirituality.
in her hands, at a shop in Saigon. Photo © nationsonline.org
