The Candy and the Habit of Gazing at the Moon

On a full moon night, silver light bathed the temple courtyard. The dry branches of a mango tree cast intricate shadows on the ground like a faint painting. A gentle breeze carried the scent of straw through the leaves. A young novice monk, who had recently entered the order, quietly stepped onto the porch with a handful of candy hidden in his robe pocket. He unwrapped a piece, letting the sweetness dissolve on his tongue, then looked up at the sky, murmuring unfinished verses. His steps were slow and rhythmic, reminiscent of his carefree days before ordination.

In his former life, he would often stroll through the fields at dusk, eating candy and reciting poetry without restraint. Upon entering the monastery, this old habit quietly resurfaced. During free moments, he would sneak out to chew candy and gaze at the moon, believing himself to be at peace. However, the practice hall requires seriousness, and time for study is as precious as gold. This habit became an obstacle to his progress.

One evening, his teacher walked down the corridor and saw the novice wandering aimlessly under the moonlight, muttering to himself. The teacher stopped and spoke gently: "Please do not act this way anymore. A practitioner’s time is limited; it should be used to deepen your spiritual heart and study the teachings, not to wander idly." The novice, still chewing, blushed slightly and touched his pocket. "Teacher, I was just having a little fun," he replied. The teacher shook his head. "What fun is there in losing mindfulness? Please stop immediately." Inside, the novice felt resentment. "The sky is beautiful, the moon is bright. What harm is there in walking? Why does the teacher forbid it?" His irritation rose because his personal desire was challenged.

The teacher continued, "Throw away that candy and return to your room to chant the Buddha's name." The novice hesitated, "Yes, but I am craving something sweet..." The teacher’s expression grew stern. "Whatever you crave, let go of it. Practice is about eliminating desires. Will you obey me?" The novice looked at the candy, then into the teacher’s eyes. He thought, "If I do not listen, the teacher will be sad, and I will never correct my nature." He said, "Yes, Teacher. I will discard it now." The teacher nodded. "Good. Go chant the sutras. Do not let old habits pull you back." The novice threw the candy into the trash bin and returned to his room, though his feet still longed to walk further under the moon.

That night, lying on his mat, the novice recalled the teacher’s words. He tried to practice humility and obedience. Each time he wanted to go outside, he reminded himself, "The teacher said no; I will stay and chant." The inner struggle gradually subsided, as if his ego were being bent and broken. The next morning, the teacher saw him chanting early and smiled. "You see? Obedience cures old habits." The novice replied, "It is strange, but without gazing at the moon, my heart feels lighter."

From that day on, the novice completely abandoned the candy and the habit of moon-gazing. Whenever the teacher gave instructions, he acted immediately. As he grew older, the teacher sent him to study, advising, "Study hard and do not betray my efforts." He obeyed, remaining humble and diligent in both practice and learning. Later, when asked to give dharma talks or perform acts of generosity, he accepted joyfully. Thanks to the foundation of humility built from discarding that handful of candy, he opened countless doors of merit and practice, leaving behind his initial obstacles.

Years later, his monastic life was solid and serene. When new disciples arrived with similar bad habits, he would tell them the story of the candy under the moon to advise them: obeying the teacher is the first step in self-correction. The temple remains pure thanks to those who know how to listen, even without any form of punishment.

**The Meaning of the Story**

Humility and obedience help practitioners abandon bad habits immediately when guided by their teacher. Because the mind is ready to listen, the teachings penetrate deeply, opening the path for other virtuous deeds. Without obedience, negative tendencies easily return, causing one to lose the opportunity to accumulate moral integrity.

Compiled from a dharma talk by Venerable Thich Chan Quang