The Calico Cat Who Taught Zen

More about The Calico Cat Who Taught Zen

The Calico Cat Who Taught Zen

Upon a moss-lined temple stair,
A calico with patterned hair
Sat poised between the dusk and dawn,
A quiet sage upon the lawn.

Her coat of ember, gold, and white—
A drifting patchwork in the light—
Seemed shaped by winds that roam the glade,
A living mandala softly made.

In silence she revealed the way,
Not through command but calm display;
Her breaths were lessons, slow and sure,
Her gaze a stillness clean and pure.

One day she found a crystal pool
Where moonlight made the water cool;
She lowered gently, fur unfurled,
And lay as if she held the world.
The monks looked on, their minds set loose—
She taught them stillness through her use
Of yielding softly, limb to limb,
Like water taught to mirror whim.

With gentle paws she crossed the night,
A trinity of muted light;
Each step upon the ancient stone
Unravelled noise from heart and bone.

She proved that peace is never chased,
Nor found by keeping life too paced;
It blooms when burdens fall away,
As shadows thin at break of day.

Thus monks would follow, line by line,
Her quiet, contemplative design;
A calico philosopher,
The temple’s most serene tutor.

A master robed in fur and hue,
Who whispered truths both old and new:
Enlightenment, serene and bright,
Carried on her tricolour light.