The Elder Potila and the Call of "Empty One"

During that rainy season retreat, golden sunlight stretched across the stone temple grounds. The rhythmic sound of bells and wooden fish rang out in clear, holy tones. Among the senior monks walked a frail figure, his robe faded by time. This was the Elder Potila. Although he had not yet attained enlightenment, whenever he spoke the Dharma, the entire assembly fell silent, moved by his sincere and profound teachings. His warm voice echoed through the quiet courtyard, carrying the faint scent of dry leaves drifting through the door cracks.

“Potila, empty one, come here!”

The Buddha called him thus, neither angry nor joking. Each time He used his name, He added the word “empty.” At first, the elder simply bowed and acknowledged the call. But over time, those words tightened around him like a cord. He did not fear the Buddha’s rebuke, but when fellow disciples began to look at him with disdain, his cheeks burned hot, and his hands gripped the hem of his robe tightly. He thought, “I teach others to attain the path, yet am I truly empty inside?”

More than twenty rainy seasons had passed. He diligently taught the Dharma and recited verses, yet his mind remained unopened. Many young monks he had guided achieved enlightenment, while he stood outside the gate of liberation. The accumulation of knowledge without self-mastery became a silent suffering. One afternoon, sitting alone beneath a bodhi tree, watching the falling leaves, he realized deeply: the Buddha calling him “empty” was a reminder that his practice had not yet reached its destination.

The elder sighed, his shoulders trembling slightly. He resolved within himself, “My career of teaching sutras must stop. I must focus on meditative concentration to attain enlightenment.” He approached the Buddha and bowed low.

“World-Honored One, may I leave the large assembly and go to a remote mountain area where thirty Arhats reside? I wish to dedicate myself fully to meditative concentration.”

The Buddha nodded, His eyes understanding everything.

Potila traveled for three days over rough, rocky terrain, leaning heavily on his bamboo staff with each weary step. Upon arrival, he saw thirty Arhats sitting silently under the trees. He approached the eldest one and prostrated until his forehead touched the ground.

“Venerable sir, I am Potila. Please teach me the path.”

The elder shook his head and pointed downward.

“You should go to the next one.”

Potila went to the second monk and bowed again.

“Please teach me meditative concentration.”

The second monk also refused, pointing to the next person. Thus, he passed by twenty-nine Arhats, finally reaching a small novice sitting by the edge of a pond. Without any pride, the elder bowed before this child who had attained Arhatship.

“Venerable sir, I, Potila, now wish to devote myself to practice. Please kindly teach me how to apply effort.”

The novice looked down at the water surface and said,

“If you wish to practice, jump into the pond. Keep your clothes on.”

Without a moment of hesitation, the elder stepped into the water. His robe became soaked as he stood still in the middle of the pond. The novice called out,

“Come up! Your house has six doors. Wind, rain, and noise enter and exit through them. Close five doors and guard only one.”

He obeyed, bowed in respect, and found a flat spot under the shade of a tree. He sat cross-legged, settling his whole body. He clearly knew each breath, closing the five senses and guarding the single door of mindfulness. As insight meditation grew, mindfulness shone brightly.

At that very moment, the Buddha appeared before him in radiant light. Opening his eyes, Potila saw the Buddha, and his heart pounded strongly. The Buddha recited a verse:

“Meditative concentration gives rise to wisdom; abandoning it destroys wisdom. Knowing these two paths—of sinking or liberation—make an effort to increase wisdom.”

Hearing this, the elder awakened completely and attained Arhatship. Tears streamed down his wrinkled cheeks, not from suffering, but because the gateway of the spirit had opened.

From then on, he lived peacefully among the Sangha. There was no longer the call of “empty one,” only the smile of one who had let go of the ego. The thirty Arhats respected him as a teacher.

The Meaning of the Story

Humility, non-self (anatta), and obedience to the teacher are the foundations for advancing in practice. Even if one is skilled in giving dharma talks, without realizing truth through meditative concentration, one remains empty. One must dare to let go of reputation and learn even from those younger or lower in status so that the mind may open and enlightenment be attained.

Compiled from the dharma talk of Venerable Thich Chan Quang