How can the oxherd stop the thousand thoughts, slow down his racing mind? What will bring him rest? Watch the ox: it's up to it. "When it is properly tended to, it will grow pure and docile," says the poet. And Pu-ming is correct, for in a moment of calm, the Idea lies down. It reflects: if I wish to be born, I must befriend the boy. I must find a place that's deep inside of him and settle into it.
So the Idea decides to leave the oxherd's conscious mind and find that deeper place.
Sensing a change in the ox, the boy lets the rope go slack. He keeps one thought, and one thought only, the only rope he needs. It becomes his mantra: he repeats it over and over.
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