A Parable about a Good Monk

There once lived a monk. He lived on a mountain, far, far from prying eyes, deep inside a cave. When someone passed by, he hid there, unwilling to speak with anyone.
He thought that by fleeing to the very depths of the cave he would avoid awkward intrusions on his freedom and his thinking, on how he saw the world around him and himself in that world.
He did not want unnecessary questions, feared sideways glances and judgment.
But one day he heard a voice, a wondrous song. It was a bird with a broken wing caught in the jaws of a trap.
He went out to help the bird escape captivity. It bowed gratefully to him and flew away, leaving him to reflect.
What good is it to run far, far away, to withdraw, distancing yourself from everyone?
If someone needs help, he might not have time to come, he might not hear those sounds pleading for help, he might not perceive the pain someone is feeling,
he might not help, simply because he was afraid to look, afraid to hear.
But the most important discovery for him was not even this, but that, had he not heard the bird’s song, had he not left the cave, had he not gone closer to it, he could have deprived everyone else of that song they admired.
For that bird is not merely a bird, but the voice of truth, of reality, sounding in the heavens.
One desire to withdraw from everyone may mean nothing to the world, but a single act of saving someone can be worth an entire world.

If you, in trying to run away, close your eyes and ears and turn away, seeking a secluded place, you thereby only destroy your own world. But when you wish to help someone, wanting to make your contribution to this world, you understand the true significance of your life, your important, irreplaceable role for this world.