“Empty your cup,” the master said. “Your cup is overflowing.”
“Maybe stop pouring then?” I replied.
“It’s a metaphor,” he snapped. But it was too late anyway. My loafers were ruined.
“Now clean up that mess,” he ordered with a stern look. ”And brew another pot!” I quietly walked back to the kitchen. This was not how I pictured my blissful weeklong vacation at an authentic Zen monastery.