About three decades ago I spent a year as a Buddhist Monk in Thailand. It was a very austere life, dedicated to meditation and simplicity. One of the trainings I practiced was to only take one meal a day before noon from the food collected going on alms round early in the morning.

My mentor and close friend, Larry Rosenberg, told me this story from the time when he was practicing meditation at a Zen monastery in Korea. He attended the funeral of a nun who had died. Larry was seated next to a famous Zen master, who had been a friend of the nun. As the ceremony progressed the Zen master cried. Larry felt embarrassed sitting next to this man, who many held in great esteem for his meditative depth. Wasn’t an accomplished Zen master supposed to be equanimous in the face of life and death? Shouldn’t this man have transcended the difficult emotions that can come with loss? His behavior didn't make sense and Larry, who was relatively new to practice at the time, asked to meet with him.