See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil: A Story of Discipline and Being Intuitive
When most people think of “see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil,” they picture the three monkeys. One with hands over its eyes, one with hands over its ears, one with hands over its mouth. The image is so familiar that it feels timeless. But it did not start as monkeys, and it did not start in Japan.
It began as a teaching in early Buddhism, long before a shrine carving ever made it famous.
Be mindful of what you allow yourself to see.
Be careful about what you listen to.
Be wise with what you say.
Those three lines are a practice. A way of guarding the mind. A way of living with presence.
The Discipline of Guarding the Gates
In Buddhism, the senses are called “gates.” The eyes, the ears, the mouth. Each one is an opening into the mind. Whatever passes through them shapes thought, emotion, and behavior.
The teaching was never about ignoring the world. It was about discipline. If you allow cruelty, gossip, or greed to flow in unchecked, your mind becomes restless and clouded. If you guard your gates, choosing carefully what you take in and what you release, you protect your awareness.
Picture yourself walking down a busy street. Everywhere you look, there are flashing signs, conversations, and faces pulling at your attention. Without discipline, you are dragged into comparison, irritation, distraction. With discipline, you can notice all of it without losing yourself in any of it. You stay steady. That is the foundation of being intuitive.
From Teaching to Carving
Centuries later, Buddhism spread into Japan. The teaching arrived by way of China and Korea, and in Japan it transformed into something new.
At the Tōshō-gū shrine in Nikkō in the 1600s, artisans carved three monkeys to embody the saying. Mizaru covers his eyes to see no evil. Kikazaru covers his ears to hear no evil. Iwazaru covers his mouth to speak no evil.
The monkeys worked because of wordplay. In Japanese, “zaru” means “not,” and “saru” means “monkey.” What had been a serious line of discipline became a visual pun. That pun made the lesson easy to remember, easy to pass down, and almost impossible to forget. The proverb traveled from Buddhist practice into Japanese culture, and eventually into the wider world.
The Truth of Suffering
At the heart of Buddhism sits another teaching that explains why this discipline matters. The truth of suffering says that life, as we usually live it, carries obvious pains and also a subtle restlessness that comes from craving, clinging, and resisting change.
If you think about this through the lens of being intuitive:
Suffering shows up when you are pulled away from presence, caught in craving or fear.
You become more intuitive when you stop clinging and start listening.
The path is about training yourself to see clearly, hear truthfully, and act wisely.
That is the truth of suffering the Buddha offered. Suffering is real, yet it is not permanent, and it is not unsolvable. The way out is through awareness and practice. The three-line proverb about guarding the senses is one doorway into that practice.
From Japan, the image of the monkeys traveled widely. By the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, it was everywhere. In Europe and the United States, the monkeys became more famous than the teaching.
Along the way, the meaning shifted. Instead of discipline, many people took the monkeys as a symbol of denial. To see nothing, hear nothing, speak nothing became a way to describe people who pretend not to notice the truth. It became a warning about silence in the face of injustice.
That twist was not the whole story. The heart of the saying was never about avoidance. It was about clarity.
What It Really Means
To understand the purpose, return to the Buddhist roots. The proverb was not asking you to be blind, deaf, or mute. It was asking you to protect your awareness so you can live with steadiness and wisdom.
Be mindful of what you allow yourself to see.
Be careful about what you listen to.
Be wise with what you say.
That is not hiding. That is choosing. That is the training of presence.
The Intuitive Connection
Being intuitive grows from the same soil. It does not mean numbing yourself. It means refining what you pay attention to.
An intuitive person notices the shift in a room when someone walks in. They hear what is not being said. They trust what they see inside themselves more than what the crowd tells them. That clarity does not come from overload. It comes from guarding the gates, being careful about what you see, hear, and say, so your inner signal stays strong.
This is why the old teaching still matters. Without discipline, the senses drown you in noise. With discipline, they sharpen you.
A Modern Twist
Today, when people say that society lives by see nothing, hear nothing, speak nothing, they are pointing to avoidance. People scroll past what is uncomfortable, close their eyes to what is painful, and stay silent when the truth is inconvenient.
That is fear. The real teaching asks you to do the opposite. See clearly, even when others look away. Hear what is real, even when others tune out. Speak truthfully, even when silence would be easier. That discipline builds an intuitive life.
What I am saying…
The three monkeys may have captured the world’s imagination, yet the real power lies in the Buddhist discipline they came from. Guard your senses. Guard your mind. Guard your awareness. That is how you protect the space where being intuitive grows.
From the Buddha’s first teaching on suffering, to the Japanese shrine carving, to the way the proverb echoes in our culture today, the message has always been there.
See with clarity.
Hear with presence.
Speak with wisdom.
That is the path of being intuitive. It is as urgent now as it was two thousand five hundred years ago.
Derek Wolf
If something in this spoke to you, there is more waiting. I write, interact, and teach more deeply over at www.L2Bintuitive.com, where we explore how to actually live what you feel.
When most people think of “see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil,” they picture the three monkeys. One with hands over its eyes, one with hands over its ears, one with hands over its mouth. The image is so familiar that it feels timeless. But it did not start as monkeys, and it did not start in Japan.
It began as a teaching in early Buddhism, long before a shrine carving ever made it famous.
Be mindful of what you allow yourself to see.
Be careful about what you listen to.
Be wise with what you say.
Those three lines are a practice. A way of guarding the mind. A way of living with presence.
The Discipline of Guarding the Gates
In Buddhism, the senses are called “gates.” The eyes, the ears, the mouth. Each one is an opening into the mind. Whatever passes through them shapes thought, emotion, and behavior.
The teaching was never about ignoring the world. It was about discipline. If you allow cruelty, gossip, or greed to flow in unchecked, your mind becomes restless and clouded. If you guard your gates, choosing carefully what you take in and what you release, you protect your awareness.
Picture yourself walking down a busy street. Everywhere you look, there are flashing signs, conversations, and faces pulling at your attention. Without discipline, you are dragged into comparison, irritation, distraction. With discipline, you can notice all of it without losing yourself in any of it. You stay steady. That is the foundation of being intuitive.
From Teaching to Carving
Centuries later, Buddhism spread into Japan. The teaching arrived by way of China and Korea, and in Japan it transformed into something new.
At the Tōshō-gū shrine in Nikkō in the 1600s, artisans carved three monkeys to embody the saying. Mizaru covers his eyes to see no evil. Kikazaru covers his ears to hear no evil. Iwazaru covers his mouth to speak no evil.
The monkeys worked because of wordplay. In Japanese, “zaru” means “not,” and “saru” means “monkey.” What had been a serious line of discipline became a visual pun. That pun made the lesson easy to remember, easy to pass down, and almost impossible to forget. The proverb traveled from Buddhist practice into Japanese culture, and eventually into the wider world.
The Truth of Suffering
At the heart of Buddhism sits another teaching that explains why this discipline matters. The truth of suffering says that life, as we usually live it, carries obvious pains and also a subtle restlessness that comes from craving, clinging, and resisting change.
If you think about this through the lens of being intuitive:
Suffering shows up when you are pulled away from presence, caught in craving or fear.
You become more intuitive when you stop clinging and start listening.
The path is about training yourself to see clearly, hear truthfully, and act wisely.
That is the truth of suffering the Buddha offered. Suffering is real, yet it is not permanent, and it is not unsolvable. The way out is through awareness and practice. The three-line proverb about guarding the senses is one doorway into that practice.
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Crossing OceansFrom Japan, the image of the monkeys traveled widely. By the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, it was everywhere. In Europe and the United States, the monkeys became more famous than the teaching.
Along the way, the meaning shifted. Instead of discipline, many people took the monkeys as a symbol of denial. To see nothing, hear nothing, speak nothing became a way to describe people who pretend not to notice the truth. It became a warning about silence in the face of injustice.
That twist was not the whole story. The heart of the saying was never about avoidance. It was about clarity.
What It Really Means
To understand the purpose, return to the Buddhist roots. The proverb was not asking you to be blind, deaf, or mute. It was asking you to protect your awareness so you can live with steadiness and wisdom.
Be mindful of what you allow yourself to see.
Be careful about what you listen to.
Be wise with what you say.
That is not hiding. That is choosing. That is the training of presence.
The Intuitive Connection
Being intuitive grows from the same soil. It does not mean numbing yourself. It means refining what you pay attention to.
An intuitive person notices the shift in a room when someone walks in. They hear what is not being said. They trust what they see inside themselves more than what the crowd tells them. That clarity does not come from overload. It comes from guarding the gates, being careful about what you see, hear, and say, so your inner signal stays strong.
This is why the old teaching still matters. Without discipline, the senses drown you in noise. With discipline, they sharpen you.
A Modern Twist
Today, when people say that society lives by see nothing, hear nothing, speak nothing, they are pointing to avoidance. People scroll past what is uncomfortable, close their eyes to what is painful, and stay silent when the truth is inconvenient.
That is fear. The real teaching asks you to do the opposite. See clearly, even when others look away. Hear what is real, even when others tune out. Speak truthfully, even when silence would be easier. That discipline builds an intuitive life.
What I am saying…
The three monkeys may have captured the world’s imagination, yet the real power lies in the Buddhist discipline they came from. Guard your senses. Guard your mind. Guard your awareness. That is how you protect the space where being intuitive grows.
From the Buddha’s first teaching on suffering, to the Japanese shrine carving, to the way the proverb echoes in our culture today, the message has always been there.
See with clarity.
Hear with presence.
Speak with wisdom.
That is the path of being intuitive. It is as urgent now as it was two thousand five hundred years ago.
Derek Wolf
If something in this spoke to you, there is more waiting. I write, interact, and teach more deeply over at www.L2Bintuitive.com, where we explore how to actually live what you feel.
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I Didn’t Plan Any of This. I Just Followed It.
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