The time for washing up had come and like any student of Zen, Hakuin was forcefully reminded of the story about Joshu and the bowl. A young monk approached Joshu saying, "Master, I've just entered the monastery. Would you teach me?" "Have you eaten your morning porridge?" asked Joshu. "Yes." "Then wash your bowl." At this the monk was enlightened. Of course, it wasn't a guaranteed method of gaining enlightenment otherwise every housewife would be a Buddha - although of course they, along with every other human, already were. The idea, of course, was mindfulness. When doing a task, nothing other than that task should occupy one's thoughts. And when finished with the task, there should be no element left over to do later. It was a concept that had been famously summarized by the Zen expression: "Never whistle while you're pissing." Do one thing at a time, and do it with your full mind, was the message. The problem, thought Hakuin, is that most "one things" we do are not really "one thing." When we walk there's a foot going forward and a foot going backward. There are slight movements for balance and there's the action of the arms. Sometimes there's even whistling. Just then someone asked Hakuin how he'd enjoyed the tea ceremony. "I often whistle when I'm pissing," he replied. "I call it 'pisstling.'" There was silence for the space of a heartbeat. "I'm just saying, is all."