The Professor and the Flying Saucer

In the late afternoon, my study was bathed in warm yellow light. I turned through old newspapers, the scent of decaying paper mingling with the quiet air. Before me lay an article by a renowned professor from Vietnam, a man of high degrees who taught at prestigious universities and wrote extensively. Yet, when I reached the section where he denied the phenomenon of flying saucers, I shook my head softly. A sigh echoed between the four walls as I thought, “It is a pity for him; his vision remains trapped within himself.”

Some time ago, stories about flying saucers spread across many nations. These were said to be vehicles of extraterrestrial beings appearing on Earth, phenomena that local science could not explain. A group of scientists produced films demonstrating that cosmic visitors had arrived five thousand years ago, leaving traces in caves, stone tablets, and customs in South America and Asia. The evidence was substantial and undeniable. Although this professor had recently shown a tendency toward Buddhism, he clung tightly to earthly scientific knowledge to dismiss these claims. He declared, “If it is not in our scientific books, it is not real!”

I read the passage again and again, then spoke aloud to myself in the room. “He is indeed skilled, but why is he not like Einstein or Newton—those who knew what they did not yet know?” A fellow practitioner sitting nearby asked, “Why do you say this teacher has not surpassed himself?” I folded the newspaper and replied gently, “Because he stands still at his own position of knowledge while looking out. He believes that whatever Earth does not mention does not exist. This is complacency; this is attachment to self (ego).” The guest asked, “But he is a professor with high qualifications.” I answered, “High qualifications are not equal to wisdom that transcends oneself. He lacks the courage to hypothesize about things beyond his learning, unlike great scholars.”

The turning point came when I recalled the words of Western scientists: the more one learns, the more one realizes their own ignorance. This professor lacked that humility. He merely compared himself to his past self, feeling sufficient if he seemed slightly better than before. I thought silently, “If he stepped outside himself and viewed things with the wisdom of others, he would see that flying saucers are logical—for they overcome gravity, much like supernatural powers in Buddhism.”

Since that day, whenever I give a dharma talk, I use this professor as an example to remind my disciples. “Do not be like him,” I say. “Be skilled, but know your limits. Trust in the infinite truth of the universe.” A young Buddhist asked, “Is denying flying saucers a moral error or an intellectual one?” I smiled and replied, “Both. Clinging to oneself shows a lack of wisdom, while refusing to accept what is greater than oneself shows a lack of ethics.” As this teaching spread, several young teachers corrected their attitudes, becoming less certain that they were absolutely right.

Later, as evidence regarding flying saucers became clearer, some earthly scientists began to open their minds. I do not know if that particular professor changed his attitude. However, in dharma talks, his name became a vivid lesson: those who are skilled but fail to surpass themselves may easily lose their way despite their fame. Our temple maintains the spirit that science and spirituality can connect, just as extraterrestrials might use spiritual principles to build their aircraft.

The Meaning of the Story

A person with high knowledge who relies on subjective earthly science to deny things beyond their understanding has not yet surpassed themselves. To surpass oneself means to step out of the ego, acknowledging that human wisdom is finite while the truth of the universe is infinite.