The Memory Painter

The young monk looked startled. “Huike is unwell. We do not know if he will recover.”


Bodhidharma was shocked to hear this news. Huike had been vibrant and healthy when he saw him last. “Please take me to him.”

The young monk led him through several halls and two courtyards until they were in a small infirmary at the back of the monastery.

The smell of burning incense greeted him first. Bodhidharma walked in and saw Huike asleep on a pallet with an old healer by his side performing acupuncture while reciting a healing sutra. Scores of needles stood upright across Huike’s chest and shoulders, and beneath his right shoulder, a huge bandage covered a stump where his arm had been. Huike lay unconscious, unable to hear the prayers of the priest attending him.

Bodhidharma turned to his guide and whispered, “What has happened?”

“Huike cut off his arm. Why, we do not know.”

Pain filled Bodhidharma. The monk had cut off his arm to prove his dedication and worth not only to Bodhidharma but to himself. Huike’s actions revealed a deep suffering of spirit, even stronger than what Bodhidharma had suspected. Perhaps Huike did sense the darkness Bodhidharma had seen within him and desperately had tried to dispel its mantle.

The old healer looked questioningly at Bodhidharma. Bodhidharma moved toward the pallet and instructed the healer to rest while he continued the sutra. The healer bowed and left, taking the young monk with him.

Bodhidharma watched Huike’s restless sleep. As if sensing him, Huike opened his eyes. It was clear he was in great pain. “Will you teach me now?”

Bodhidharma took his hand. “You never had to ask. I said I could not teach you because I knew you would teach yourself.”

Huike fell back asleep. Bodhidharma sat beside him until morning, feeling a love for this man as a father would for a son.

*

In the weeks that followed, Huike regained his strength and left the infirmary to join the other monks in Bodhidharma’s tutelage. Bodhidharma had been horrified to find that no one could hold a simple seated meditation.

“Meditation is rigorous exercise and requires great stamina. How can you sit if you cannot even stand? Look at yourselves. You look like hunched monkeys.”

Bodhidharma decided that the next weeks would be devoted to strengthening their bodies. The monks spent every day in the forest, learning exercises derived from Hatha and Raja yoga that Bodhidharma had modified further to enhance their bodies’ energy flow.

At first, his unorthodox teachings met with resistance. The Shaolin monks were accustomed to sitting at their desks all day, transcribing copies of Buddhist scriptures. Bodhidharma watched their exercises and shook his head, unsatisfied.

He tried to explain. “Qi is the life force that flows through all living things. Qigong teaches you how to harness this energy and bridge the gap between your body and your mind. But how can you do anything when your thoughts are so noisy? Quiet your mind.” He took off his sandal. “You can start by staring at my shoe.” He left it on the ground and walked away.

The students looked at each other questioningly. Huike called out, “Master, how long should we stare?”

Bodhidharma answered without turning back. “Until you find enlightenment.”

They stared at the sandal for three days. Many gave up, unable to continue without food or water. When Bodhidharma finally retrieved his shoe, only Huike and two others remained.

The next day, he had the monks stare at a rock wall. The following day, they watched bugs mate. On the third day, they stood like trees from sunrise to sunset.

Bodhidharma circled his pupils. He was still unsatisfied. “Concentration. Confidence. Will. This is the path to internal strength. Huike, stop. You are no longer a tree. Take this iron rod and hit me on the head with it.”

Huike’s eyes widened. “But master, I can’t!”

Bodhidharma ignored him and handed him the rod. “You will not hurt me.” He stood in a perfect stance, his gaze fixed and focused now on his inward state. “Go on. Strike me with all your might.”

Huike remained frozen. Bodhidharma glared at his best student and commanded him again, “Strike me!”

Huike raised the rod with his arm and brought it down hard on his master’s head. The rod broke.

“Qigong,” Bodhidharma said as he picked up the pieces. “By mastering it your mind can become insusceptible to pain. You possess more power than you can imagine.” To drive his point home, he turned and sent his hand straight through a brick wall. “In time, you will be able to accomplish this and more.”