Buta No Gotoki _top_ -

The beggar knelt. “Master, a pig does not know it is called a pig. But a man who calls another buta no gotoki — he forgets that even pigs have the Buddha-nature. Mud is not a curse. It is where lotus roots grow.”

Once, in a crumbling temple at the edge of a forgotten village, there lived a monk named Sesshin. He was known for his harsh discipline and his even harsher tongue. To his disciples, he often said, “You are buta no gotoki — like pigs. Rooting in mud, blind to the sky.”

He entered the master’s room, carrying a bowl of broth made from muddy yams. buta no gotoki

From that day, he never again called any living thing buta no gotoki — except himself, with a smile, when pride whispered in his ear.

The beggar only smiled.

Sesshin stared at him. “Why help me? I called you worse than a pig.”

Sesshin fell ill. His body, weakened by fasting, could no longer rise. The disciples scattered, each looking for their own survival. Only the beggar remained. The beggar knelt

That night, a terrible storm swept the valley. Lightning struck the temple’s grain stores. Famine clawed at the village. The disciples, once proud, grew thin and desperate. But the beggar — who had taken shelter in an old pigsty — did not starve. He ate wild roots, knew which mushrooms were safe, and slept warm in the straw.