Mokusen Hiki was lining in a temple in the province of Tamba. One of his adherents complained of the stinginess of his wife.
Mokusen visited the adherent’s wife and showed her his clenched fist before her face.
“Suppose my fist were always like that. What would you call it?” he asked.
“Deformed,” replied the woman.
Then he opened his hand flat in her face and asked, “Suppose it were always like that. What then?”
“Another kind of deformity,” said the wife.
“If you understand that much,” finished Mokusen, ”you are a good wife.” Then he left.
After his visit, this wife helped her husband to distribute as well as to save.
from 101 Zen Stories
as printed in Zen Flesh, Zen Bones