While reading The Snow Leopard, I looked for, and came across, a Peter Matthiessen interview, which included the following:

There’s a wonderful Zen story about a young monk who has had an enlightenment experience. To celebrate, his teacher takes him up Mount Fuji. All the way up this snow volcano, this young monk is crying out, “Oh, Roshi! Do you hear the birds? I’ve never heard the birds before! How beautiful!” The teacher scarcely grunts, won’t say a word, just thumps his stave. On and on the fellow goes, ecstatic. “Oh, the snow, the clouds!” Finally they near the top of the mountain. “Oh, Roshi,” he cries. “Do you see how the wind blows snow across the cone of the volcano? How the clouds drift past on the wind? There is no separation between us and the wind and the great earth!” The Roshi hisses, “Yes! Yes, true! But what a pity to say so!”

As told by Peter Matthiessen in an interview in the Paris Review

Photo by Subhankar Banerjee (from Seasons of Life and Land, Subhankar Banerjee, Peter Matthiessen et.al.]

Two Zen monks were traveling and came to a ford of a stream that was running high with spring runoff; the current was strong, and the water flowed past with a surging energy. A beautiful young woman was standing at the ford, looking nervous; she was clearly afraid to cross, but obviously had an important reason to go. Without a word, the older of the two monks lifted her in his arms, carried her across the stream, set her safely on the far side, and then waded back across to join his fellow monk once more.

The younger monk looked shocked, but kept his silence for many kilometers as they continued on their journey. Finally, he blurted out: “You know it is against the rules of our order to have any contact with women; how could you do that?”

The older monk smiled and said, “I put her down when I reached the other side of the stream; you, on the other hand, have been carrying her this whole way.”