The Fish Twisted and Turned on the Bent Hook

The fish twisted and turned on the bent hook. He crouched on the edge of the river, swore he would never eat meat, made the oath, but he was starving. It had taken him 28 days to find the wire, to sharpen it on one end, to purloin enough string to have a fishing line. He arose before dawn, walked with clasped hands, meditated at daybreak, noon, dusk. He was the epitome outwardly of humbleness, or service. The mist rose off the water, the only disturbance were ripples from the struggling. As he drew it in, he even felt a pang of deep regret for the poor fish, for all beings snared in suffering in this whole world. 

When he had the fish (so pitiful wet cold and alive!) something in him made him let it go. Then the abbot sat down beside him.

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