The soft, joyful light of the setting sun spread wide across the calm spring sky. Winds from every direction carried the scent of flowers, perfuming the grounds of the Jetavana monastery. The grass and trees, calm and wholesome, breathed peace and purity in the late afternoon. Here and there, wisps of pale smoke curled up from a few old thatched huts. In the distance, a tall peak of the Himalayas, crowned with a whitened grove, looked like an old man with silvered hair.
Amid this natural setting, at once serene and touched with quiet grandeur, four monks sat conversing beneath an ancient tree. The beauty of the spring sky seemed to stir the heart of any traveler, and one of them suddenly spoke up: “Brothers in the Way — let us consider: what, in this life, is most worthy of love and joy?” Hearing this, the other three at once agreed, adding: “A fine idea! Let each of us reflect, then offer his answer to this question, and we shall see whose is best.”
After a few moments of quiet thought, the first monk said: “In the heart of spring, the grass and trees put on their freshness, a thousand flowers bloom and smile, birds sing on the green branches, a subtle fragrance drifts everywhere — the scenery is beyond compare! If, in such a moment, I could drift a light boat down the stream, or carry a gourd of wine up the mountainside, surely no pleasure in the world would equal it!”
The second monk replied: “The joy of a family reunited is already happiness. But add to it fine food, good wine, and the sound of music and song, now slow, now lively, all mingled with the warmth and delight of close kin, and I believe the happiness of this world goes no further than that!”
The third monk said: “As for me — if one were born into a noble and wealthy line, living in tall halls and spacious houses, with money enough to buy whatever one wished; if, going out, one were dressed in the finest clothes, riding on horseback or by carriage; if, whenever one's household called, a crowd of servants came running with respect — what more could one ask? To my mind, that is the one true pleasure.”
The fourth monk said in turn: “In this world, money and rank may be easier to find than a woman of true beauty. As for me, whoever possessed three women of matchless beauty would want for nothing even a king might envy! What pleasure could surpass gazing on a face as fresh as a flower, feeling oneself carried off as though to some rosy paradise; listening to a voice singing sweetly, losing oneself as though wandering into an enchanted grotto; and then, beside a woman as precious as jade, exchanging elegant verses and draining together the cup of one accord — I am certain the happiness of this world goes no further than what I have just described.” Having each stated his view, all four monks, each convinced he was right, fell to arguing without agreement.
Now, not far off, the Buddha was walking in meditation around the Jetavana monastery. Hearing their words, He was moved with compassion and came near to ask: “What are you discussing?” The four monks, not daring to conceal anything, told Him the truth. The Buddha said: “All that you have just said leads only toward anxiety and sorrow — it is not lasting, true happiness. Why is this so? However lovely the world may be in spring, by autumn and winter it must wither and fade. However joyfully a family may gather, it must also suffer the pain of parting and death. Money, horses, and carriages are things that do not endure, and none of them can be carried into death. As for sensual desire, it is a peril without limit — it wastes the body and clouds the spirit. From it come the ruin of homes and the fall of kingdoms. In short, all the pleasures you have named are fleeting and fragile, and are precisely the cause of suffering to come in the cycle of rebirth. Only nirvana is clear, constant, peaceful, and pure. That, and that alone, is the true and lasting source of happiness. As monks who have left the world to seek the Way, do not let these false joys haunt you — walk instead the true and clear path that is your own.”
The Buddha continued, again addressing the four monks: “In a past life there was a king named Phổ An, who was friends with four kings of neighboring lands… One day, King Phổ An invited his four friends to a great feast in his own kingdom. The celebration lasted four full months; the music, the songs, and the finest delicacies only deepened and strengthened their friendship. On the day they were to part, King Phổ An asked his four friends: ‘What, in this world, is the greatest pleasure?’ Each of the four kings, according to his own inclination, in turn offered one of these: an outing — a family reunion — wealth — sensual desire. King Phổ An then said: ‘To my mind, all that you have spoken of is but a fragile pleasure and a cause of suffering; only the pure Way of non-action is true joy.’”
O monks! That King Phổ An of old was myself, in a past life; and the four kings were you yourselves, in your past existences. Even then I had clearly explained the nature of joy and suffering, yet you had not yet understood it — and so you have drifted on in the ocean of birth and death until this very day. If, even now, you do not strive to awaken and cultivate the Way, the wheel of birth, death, and suffering will never cease to turn.
Hearing these words of the Buddha, the four monks, filled with shame, repented; the mist of their desire dissolved, and the mirror of their hearts grew calm and clear. When the Buddha resumed his walk and moved on, without a word among them, all four sat upright, turning their minds toward peace and stillness…
The evening sun sank slowly toward the distant western horizon. Night began to draw its dark veil over all things. In the gap between two mountains at the edge of the western sky, streaks of brilliant rose-colored cloud suddenly appeared, forming a beauty both mysterious and celestial. In that same moment, as the light of day was fading, the light of the Way kindled in the hearts of the four monks. On that spring afternoon, they had found the source of happiness, welling up within an eternal spring — the spring of freedom from desire and of a tranquil heart.
Told by: Trí Hiền