The Swan Soaring High

The afternoon sun cast its golden glow over the Bamboo Grove Monastery, illuminating the simple thatched roofs. The chirping of forest birds calling each other home blended with the rustling wind through the leaves. In this atmosphere, an unusual stir spread throughout the small huts. The bhikkhus moved about hurriedly, carrying bundles in their hands and under their arms. Some washed rice, others cleaned their robes, and some folded old garments neatly. Everyone was rushing, anxious to prepare for the upcoming journey.

After three months of the Rains Retreat in Rajagriha, in the kingdom of Magadha, the Buddha announced his intention to depart and travel to teach the Dharma. He wandered from place to place year after year, enduring hardships without complaint, driven by a single purpose: to bring the light of enlightenment to all sentient beings. Upon hearing this news, every monk urgently prepared their robes and bowls, gathering necessary items to follow the Master on his path.

Amidst this flurry of activity, one figure sat perfectly still beneath a tree, eyes half-closed, face radiating an extraordinary peace. This was Venerable Mahakashyapa. He made no move to prepare; he did not pack his robes or bowl, nor did he clean his belongings. He showed no concern about leaving. Seeing this, several young monks began to whisper among themselves. One shook his head and said to another, "Look there. Venerable Mahakashyapa shows no sign of preparing to follow the Buddha. Surely he does not wish to leave Rajagriha."

The other nodded, his voice laden with implication. "Yes, I have heard that the Venerable’s family is very wealthy. Here, he has many relatives and receives ample offerings when making offerings. Perhaps he is attached to this place and cannot bear to leave." These words spread like a strange wind blowing through the monastery. People looked at the Venerable with pity, and some even showed disdain. The whispers grew louder until they reached the ears of the Buddha.

He knew clearly the noble conduct of His disciple and understood that these rumors were entirely false. Yet, He felt greater concern for those monks, for they were creating negative karma by slandering a saint. With boundless compassion, the Buddha summoned them. When everyone had settled, the Buddha looked around, His voice gentle yet commanding. "Monks, what are you thinking about Venerable Mahakashyapa?" The monks bowed their heads, none daring to speak.

The Buddha continued, "I know you believe Mahakashyapa does not want to leave Rajagriha because he is attached to his relatives or wishes to enjoy the benefits of receiving offerings. But you are mistaken. Mahakashyapa is a transcendent being who never cares for worldly trivialities. He is not attached to any place, whether rich or poor." Then, looking toward the Venerable sitting in perfect equanimity, the Buddha recited a verse:

"Self-encouraged in mindfulness, No curtain of house or home, Like a swan soaring high, Leaving behind the small pond."

The verse struck like thunder in a clear sky, startling the monks into awakening. They bowed their heads in repentance, realizing they had hastily concluded negatively without evidence. Meanwhile, Venerable Mahakashyapa remained seated, his expression unchanged, like a lotus blooming in mud yet untouched by its scent.

Through this small story, the Buddha wished to remind His disciples of a chronic ailment of sentient beings: the tendency to think ill of others. Facing the same situation, ordinary people seek flaws, while saints always view things with compassion, understanding, and protection. He taught that within each person’s mind resides a "courtroom," with a "prosecutor" constantly accusing and a "lawyer" seeking to defend. If we only listen to the prosecutor, we become demons, condemning everyone. But if we take the time to listen to the compassionate lawyer, we find the causes and conditions to understand and forgive the mistakes of others.

The Buddha also spoke of Cao Cao, a man famous for his suspicion. Once, fleeing danger, he was sheltered by someone who owed him a debt of gratitude. To honor his benefactor, the host rose early to sharpen a knife in the kitchen to slaughter a pig. Hearing the sound of the blade, Cao Cao’s suspicion flared, believing the host intended to kill him. He immediately grabbed his sword, rushed out, and slaughtered the entire household. Only upon seeing the pig tied in the yard did he realize the truth. Yet, instead of remorse, he calmly uttered a notorious line: "Better that I betray others than let others betray me." That sentence poisoned countless generations, leading people to live selfishly, cruelly, always guarding against and suspecting one another.

The Buddha taught that it is better to think well of others, even if occasionally deceived, than to be perpetually suspicious and judgmental, thereby narrowing the soul and closing the door to compassion. Those who think ill of others may avoid deception by the world, but they deceive themselves, losing inner peace and the path of practice. Conversely, those who choose to think well, even if slightly misled, keep their hearts open, loving, and protected by devas and saints.

The story of Venerable Mahakashyapa is also a beautiful song. Born into immense wealth, he disregarded worldly pleasures from childhood. When his parents forced him to marry, he set a condition: they must find a woman as beautiful as the golden statue he had carved himself. Believing no such person existed, he was surprised to meet Bhadra, a woman who also possessed spiritual roots from past lives. They became husband and wife, yet maintained pure conduct, practicing together and giving away their fortune to seek the Way. Upon meeting the Buddha, both quickly attained Arhatship. It was then that the Venerable realized it was time to part ways with his dharma companion, so each could live according to the true vows of a monk. In that moment of separation, heaven and earth seemed to tremble, moved by the sacrifice and purity of two souls bound together across many lifetimes.

The life of Venerable Mahakashyapa shines as a beacon of renunciation, indifferent to worldly trivialities. He lived ascetically and simply, respected by many but approached by few. Yet, it was precisely this nobility that compelled the Buddha to speak up in defense, to uphold justice and prevent harmful thoughts in others. The Buddha taught that when we see good people misunderstood, if we know the truth but remain silent, the karma falls upon us. Therefore, standing up for what is right is not only the duty of a teacher but also a way to preserve fairness and compassion in our own minds.

Meaning of the Story

The tale of Venerable Mahakashyapa and the verse "The Swan Soaring High" reminds us of the habit of thinking ill of others—a mundane tendency that narrows the heart, creates negative conditions (dependent origination), and obstructs the path of practice. The first lesson of compassion is knowing how to think well of others, to empathize, and to defend those who are wronged. It is better to think well and sometimes be deceived than to live in constant suspicion and judgment, thereby losing one’s own peace and the path to enlightenment.

Compiled from the dharma talk by Most Venerable Thich Chan Quang