A notable Zen woman, her name was Rengetsu, was on an adventure. She went to a town at sunset and requested inn for the night, yet the occupants pounded their gateways. They were against Zen. Zen is so dynamic, so totally defiant, that it is difficult to recognize it.
By enduring it you are changed; by enduring it you experience a fire, you are never the equal again. Custom is all that is false in religion. Accordingly ordinary people have reliably been against all that it substantial in religion.
Being ordinary, the townspeople didn’t allow Rengetsu to stay in their town; they hurled her out. It was a cool night, the old individual had no lodging and she was anxious. It was unsafe too — wild animals what not. She expected to make a cherry tree in the fields her asylum. It was so cool she couldn’t rest sufficiently.
At 12 PM she got up because of the cold and saw, in the spring night sky, the totally opened cherry sprouts laughing to the foggy moon. Annihilation with the perfection, she got up and made an adoration toward the town … This is what Tathata is.
She made a regard toward the town, “Through your thought in declining me lodging I wound up underneath the blossoms the night of this foggy moon. I am grateful.”
With mind boggling gratefulness she offered thanks toward those people who declined her lodge, else she would have rested under a regular housetop, and she would have missed the endowment of the cherry sprouts mumbling with the dim moon, and the calm of the night; the understandable quietness of the night. Rengetsu was not incensed, she recognized it. Not simply recognized it, welcomed it — she felt thankful.
One transforms into a Buddha the moment s/he recognizes all that life conveys with appreciation. He is on the way, he is on Tao; and he IS getting the chance to be keen.