A Monk, A Ring, and Two Noodle Soups

I opened my eyes to the glare of sunshine passing through the window curtains. I raised my right arm and shielded my eyes with my hand as it slowly gets used to the light. From a fetal position I laid on my back. Sweat covered my body and I felt it moistened the sheets. The word “uncomfortable” doesn’t even begin to describe what I felt. It is as if I was thrown inside an industrial oven to be baked. “My sister turned off the air conditioner again” I groaned as I slowly rose up from the bed. I reached over for my smartphone which lay beside me. It was 11:25 AM. I threw back the phone on my bed, rubbed my eyes and yawned. As soon as I finished closing my mouth, I climbed down our double-decker bed with a jump. I landed with a thud. I stood there for a moment and felt my stomach rumble. “Time for brunch” I said to myself. I turned on the TV and the news came on. I liked it when something like the news kept babbling on in the background. It helps kill the loneliness. I scrounged around the room finding anything that I could eat. A loaf of bread, a pack of biscuits, or anything really. After a few minutes of desperately rummaging in our tiny room, I gave up and just sat on the mattress in the lower deck of the bed. I sighed. Sweat continued to pour down my face and into the floor. As I wiped myself dry I realized I haven’t even opened the windows yet. Silly me. With a knob, a swing and a push the window opened and a short gust of cool air flowed into the room. It was still hot but the at least air circulation made things bearable. As I looked out of the window, I noticed the newly opened noodle shop starting to serve customers. I turned around put some clothes on, grabbed my wallet, and sped off. I wanted to get some noodle soup. “One large kinalas and turon” said the owner of the shop as he served what will be my brunch for today. It was scorching hot outside but I always had this thing of eating hot soup on a hot day. It may not exactly be the preference of a lot of people hence the lack of customers for the shop but I for one enjoy the weirdness. Kinalas is basically a noodle soup made from beef or pork broth with flakes of meat which is usually taken from boiled bones. What sets it apart from the usual noodle soups is the thick, brown sauce that it comes with. The cool thing about it is that almost no two stores have the same recipe for the sauce. Some of these sauce is made from animal brains while some are from shrimps. Either way, the cook will never really tell you. I had no intention of asking. I was there to eat. So I took a bite of the Turon, a banana dusted in sugar, coated with spring roll wrapper and then fried. As I enjoyed the sweet appetizer, I reached for the spoon and slurped some soup. I smiled with delight. Life is good. Halfway done with my meal, I saw this man garbed in an orange robe. His head was bald and was barefoot. At first glance, I knew he was a monk of some kind. Whether or not he was the real deal remains to be seen. He stood there by the doorway of the noodle shop and reaching inside his old shoulder bag. As people passed him by he gave them a nod and a smile. After some time, he took his hands off from inside his bag revealing a mountain of coin barely held together by his cupped palms. He then started to count. “I bet he’s counting those coins to buy something” said the owner of the shop. “Probably. Yeah” I replied. True enough, after the coin was counted he went inside. He greeted the shop owner with a smile. He then held his two hands together on his forehead and bowed. “How much?” asked the monk as he pointed at my still not finished meal. “50” offered the shop owner. The monk sighed and gave an awkward smile. “Not enough” he said. Whether it’s a blessing or a curse, I always had this thing where I tend to offer something before I get the chance to think about it. Especially in situations where I believe I can help someone out. True to that nature, I greeted the monk. “I’ll pay for your meal”. I flashed a smile. “Come join me” The monk joined me on the table. He sat right in front of me smiling like a kid who was just given ice cream for the first time. “I can still pay” said the monk. It was obvious that English wasn’t his native tongue. “I know but I insist! You may need the coins in the future. Keep it for now” I muttered. He laid down his bag on the floor, rested his arms on the table, and kept on smiling. “I’ve been on the road for a while. I did not expect to find myself in this situation” he said. “Well, you’d probably do the same if you were in my shoes” I replied. He laughed. “It is hard to assume. Who knows, I might have decided the opposite!” The statement gave me pause. “I guess we’re lucky we ended up in this situation instead” I told the monk. We both chuckled at the thought. The shop owner served the hot bowl of Kinalas in front of the man. The smoke briefly covered my vision of him. He was then offered a Turon as well. Free of charge. However, the monk declined. He can only consume what is enough he explained. He took a sip of the soup. His eyes went wide as smoke flowed out of his mouth. “This is delicious! But very hot!” he laughed. I then spent some time explaining what it is he is eating. After a few exchanges, I realized something grave. I shot him with a shocked glance. “You are a monk, correct? Aren’t you supposed to be vegetarians?!” The monk gave me an amused smile. “Yes we are” he replied. Like a fan in a rock concert, I bowed my head over and over apologetically. I just made a vegetarian eat meat. He laughed. “We are encouraged to be vegetarians but we also cannot refuse what has been offered. Especially when it is needed” I sighed a sigh of relief. “It is fine, friend” He whispered. “So you’re a traveling monk…” I asked him “I am indeed a traveling monk, yes” He replied. “I am sure you have stories to tell” I asked him with curious eyes. “We all have stories to tell but mine may not be what you expect” He answered. Despite his response, he continued to tell the tale of his journey while enjoying his noodle soup. Apparently, he started his journey in the most northern part of the Philippines. He chose one of the primary cardinal directions: South. He said he traveled day and night, rain or shine. Through his own expense or the kindness of strangers. He has cleaned pig pens and even planted some rice in the fields. All so he could secure lodgings or a meal. “I find it hard to believe that you made it this way just by offering your assistance and actually getting some help from people” I inquired. “It is indeed difficult to believe. Simply because we were raised to believe that kindness is a rarity. In truth, kindness is everywhere” “Everywhere?” I questioned. “When you woke up today. Did you know that you will offer a stranger a meal?” “No” I replied. “Kindness is everywhere but unexpected. That is why we treasure them if they ever end up at our door” I was made speechless by the deepness of his thoughts. “I don’t know how you do it” I smiled at him. “To do the things you do for your faith” looked outside the shop, deep in thought. “I don’t think I can do that with mine” “You don’t have to” He smiled. He waved his one hand to catch my attention and directed me to the two bowls of noodle soup. “Faith is like me choosing my bowl of soup and saying it is the best soup in the world and you choose yours as the best in the universe!” He made a big rainbow-like gesture with his hands. “Whether or not my soup is really the most delicious soup it does not matter because to me it is. I have faith in my soup” I laughed and even caught the shop owner smile at the goofy way the monk is sharing his wisdom. “I would walk for 5 days and 5 nights just to be here and eat the soup because I believe it is worth it. But you don’t have to do that because you have faith in your own soup. You can try my soup but you may not like it. Or maybe you will and you walk 5 days and 5 nights too!” Everyone in the store laughed. Even the woman who just ordered her own bowl. “You do not have to do what I do for my soup just like I won’t with yours! As long as it feeds and nourishes us, it doesn’t matter which soup you choose to have faith in” After a bit of a chuckle, I slowly mellowed down and stared at the doorway into the street. My thoughts begin to wander. I was suddenly lost to my thoughts. There’s just something so profound with his wisdom that it made me think of a lot of things. I zoned out. “I really like this soup! Thank you!” I was dragged back to reality to find the monk, his palms together, complimented the cook. I can see that glint of joy in the man’s eyes. Genuine happiness is such a rare sight to behold. I checked out the cook who, funny enough, also placed his palms together and started bowing. It was quite entertaining. “Why do you this? I mean all the traveling” I asked him quite forwardly. “I mean you got to have a destination at least” I followed up. He smiled and nodded. “Not all journeys have a set destination, my friend” he replied. “Sometimes the journey itself is the destination”. There was a slight pause in the room. “Why did you come here?” he asked. I was flustered at the unexpected question. “I was hungry. I haven’t eaten in a while” I answered the monk. “Did you think of this noodle soup the moment you got hungry?” He asked. “No” I replied back. “Exactly” At that moment, I started to realize what he meant. It gave me pause. “I suppose I am hungry as well and that is why I walk”. I notice a bit melancholy on his face. A deep, hard-to-notice sigh in his soul. “Maybe in my journey I will find my destination. My noodle soup!” He laughed heartily. I laughed along. He surely knows how to use noodle soups as metaphors. After a bit more eating, he suddenly grabbed his bag on the floor and reached into it. After a while, he looked at me in the eye and gave me a smile. He reached out with his right hand and offered something. I opened my palm to accept. He then slowly handed out a ring. “Please accept this with my thanks” he said softly. My eyes lit up and a cold chill flowed through the back of my spine. “Oh I cannot accept this! Thank you but…” I nervously explained. “I insist. Please! Take it” the monk said laughing. In some other situation, I would have been adamant in not accepting the ring but it is as if my soul itself told me to take it. I stared at the ring resting on my palm for a minute and sighed. “Thank you” I said to him. I looked up and saw the monk with his hands together, eyes shut and lips chanting underneath his breath. He then stopped, looked at me, and whispered “it is done”. It was a silver ring with a bit of weight into it. There are various carvings on both the outer and inner face of the rings that to this day, I haven’t deciphered what they are. It does not glimmer like other shiny baubles and may not even be worth that much but there is just something about it that tells me that it’s more than what it seems. “What is this ring about?” I asked the monk as I continued to look at it from all angles. “That is a ring given to me by a Chinese man on my journey some time ago” answered the monk. I looked at him curiously. “He said it was powerful” added the monk. “That it provides good luck” I kept looking at the ring. “Is it magical or something?” I said teasingly. He laughed. “Or maybe it is just a ring?” We laughed. As our hearty laughter subsided, we found ourselves in awkward silence. “I believe it is powerful” he said silently. “How so?” I asked. “This noodle soup may be worth more than that ring. Sell and it may not be worth a lot” he explained while fixing his bag on his lap. “Think of the man who crafted this ring. The materials he used. Think of the people who have worn it over the years”. He stared at the ring. “There’s history in that ring” he muttered. The monk then looked at me with a smile. “Out of all the people in the world. Of all the places it could have gone. It ended up here in this store”. He then pointed at the ring and then to me. “The ring chose you”. We then found ourselves standing outside the store. The Sun slowly begins to inch closer to sunset. “Do you have a place to go?” I asked the man. “Always” he replied with a smile. That response alone made me want to ask more questions but I held off. He needs to be on his way. He faced me with a smile. He then closed his eyes, placed his two palms together, and rested them on his forehead. With a gentle bow he said his thanks. I began rubbing the back of my neck and smiled awkwardly. With a nod, he turned around and walked away. “Good luck on your journey!” I yelled. He looked back with a smile. “And to yours, friend”