There is this temple that I like to go to in Kamakura. To get to it, you have to walk up this long flight of stairs. It's really quite a climb. All this being said, once you ascend the stairs, it's a very quiet and pleasant temple.
 
I was going there the other day. As I started to get near the top, I noticed that they were doing some construction on the temple. Well, maybe better put, reconstruction. I guess it was a little bit of a restoration project as this is a very old temple.
 
As I got closer, I could see that they were working on the foundation.
 
The one thing I immediately noticed was that there were a couple of men working. This one man, he was pouring wet concrete out of a bucket. Initially, I didn't think too much about it. But, after I was there for a little while, what I noticed is that, the man was leaving with his now empty bucket after each pour. Sometime later, he would reemerge with his bucket filled with wet concrete. Again, I didn't really think too much about it. That was until I decided to descend the stairs and leave. There he was. The man was carrying a single bucket of concrete all the way from the base of the stairs, one bucket at a time. About halfway up, he stopped, completely out of breath. After catching his breath, he again started his assent.
 
I mean, I don't know how to put it, I was in disbelief.
 
To describe the man, he was an elderly gentleman. I would guess that he was younger than me, but he certainly looked much older than me. He had completely gray hair, deep wrinkles in his face, and you could just tell that the hands of time had taken their toll upon him. This being said, he was carrying a wet bucket of cement—one bucket at a time, up that long flight of stairs.
 
I was thinking to myself, “Damn, I couldn't do that!” I mean, hell, my body is fairly well destroyed. All the years of martial arts, the motorcycle accidents, the running four miles a day for the better part of my life. All this has really taken its toll. Even walking up all those stairs destroys my knees, my hips, and my ankles. They all hurt! Yet, there this man was, one bucket at a time. Going from the base to the top of these stairs. What dedication!
 
I'm sure there is something very Zen in all of this. I'm sure there's a Zen parable, or Zen koan, in this story being told. I mean, it is a Zen Buddhist temple after all.
 
But again, what true dedication!
 
Just for reference, this is an old temple, and the only way to get to the temple itself, is via those stairs. There's no road that could be driven up. Or, anything like that. I suppose that as we are now in this modern era, they could run some sort of piping up to the top of the temple, that would transport cement. But that was not happening. One man, one bucket, the weight of cement, and him, step-by-step, walking to the top.

You know, I guess I'll never know why he was doing it. Was it just to earn the paycheck? Or, was he doing it for his true dedication to the temple? Whatever the case, it's certainly a job I wouldn't want to do. Would you?
 
This being said, here's an ideal example of the paradox of life—whether it was by choice or dedication. Here's the example of one man doing whatever it takes to get the job done. Some, would say it's a holy gesture, as he was doing it to repair a temple. Others would say that he's doing it to earn a buck. Or, maybe better put, yen. Whatever the case, it illustrates true dedication. I'm sure there is some divine, spiritual essence I could find in this. But, all it leaves me with is a question mark.
 
How about you? Would you take on that job?