(Tea Traveller‘s magical tale.)

Before his passing, Bodhidharma decided to pass on his teachings to his four disciples. He brewed tea in his old cup—the very same one he had carried from India—and invited them to drink with him.

As the steam from the oolong tea rose into the air, he asked them all the same question:

— What is the essence of Dharma?

The first disciple spoke at length about the laws of karma, the Four Noble Truths, and the great path of the Buddha, trying to express the truth in words—like steeping tea for too long and drawing out bitterness.

Bodhidharma shook his head:

— You have understood only the skin.

The second disciple gave a short yet confident answer, as if measuring out just the right amount of tea leaves, wasting nothing:

— Everything is emptiness.

Bodhidharma nodded:

— You have understood the flesh.

The third disciple whispered a single word—barely audible, like the fleeting aroma of freshly brewed tea, vanishing before it could be grasped.

— You have understood the bones, the master acknowledged.

The fourth disciple simply bowed in silence and took the cup, asking no questions. He inhaled the fragrance, tasted both bitterness and sweetness, felt the warmth filling his hands, and drank the tea as if it were the essence of the teaching itself.

Bodhidharma smiled:

— You have understood the deepest truth.

And to him, he passed his robe and his cup as a sign of succession. But the cup he passed was empty—because the true essence of wisdom is that it can always be filled again.