The Buddhist Monk that I met with came from a long lineage of master calligraphers. When he was a small boy in the monestary, his father showed him a brush that had been passed down through his family, made by his great grandfather.
He asked his father what kind of hair the brush was made of. His father hit him hard on the head.
His father hit him hard -- because in the monestary you don’t ask questions. Because when you ask questions, it’s ego. The more you ask, the more you want to know and you start building in the vertical space – rather than finding the answer and the truth on your own.
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