When Eshun, the Zennun, was past sixty and about to leave this world, she asked some monks to pile wood in the yard.
Seating herself firmly in the centre of the funeral pyre, she had it set fire around the edges.
“O nun!” shouted one monk, “is it hot there?”
“Such a matter would concern only a stupid person like yourself”, answered Eshun.
The flames arose, and she passed away.
Zen flesh, Zen bones. Paul Reps. Penguin. 1957
Ángel Marroquín 