Let me tell you a story. One day, during the Vietnam war, someone asked Roshi, "What is war?" He said it was like a bamboo mat when two people want to sit on it. They both want to smooth out their side so there aren't any wrinkles. Then there are a bunch of wrinkles in the center, which nobody quite knows what to do with. That's war.
A lot of people picked up on this and kept asking about war and pacifism, pressing the point, 'What does he really think, is he against war or isn't he? What about this big peace demonstration next week? Should we go to it or not? What should we do? Why doesn't he take a definite stand?"
Finally, all at once, Roshi jumped up. He took the nearest older student and started hitting him with the stick, again and again. Roaring, "Dreamer! Dreamer! What are you dreaming about?" Then he went back and sat down, totally livid—his face was white—and he said very quietly, "I'm not angry."
