Soon on the road, Tzu-yu and Yu Chu made slow progress, the latter being unused to long days of walking. But the distance was short and in five days’ time they were in conference with Chen Jen. With his time of employment nearly come to an end, Chen Jen suggested that they all three return to the hermit’s vale where perhaps Yu Chu might find a place with the hermit and King Ching Chi, the progress of whom they were curious to see. To this Yu Chu responded enthusiastically, thinking that a time of solitude might better enable his quest than long days of walking and the hardships of the road!
Now for Chen Jen this parting was no easy task, for his five wards had come to love him, and clung to him with tears. But he said to them sternly, though he too fighting back tears, “For what have you learned to think for yourselves? Now you can learn without the impediment of a teacher! And what are these affections given their own head, are you not meant to rein them and be greater than they!?”
But he was greatly moved and promised them that he would return, if fate allowed that he should, to give them further instruction if only for a short time. “And see to it that you are ready with minds clear and still, and able to teach the teacher what can never be taught!”
And with that they were soon off on the long trip to the vale. And staying again with the farmer and his family, they heard of how King Ching Chi had entered their hearts and how he had, in their opinion, become a sage of great merit. But after just a few days, and that mostly for the resting of Yu Chu, they departed again, leaving simple gifts thought rare so far in the country.
When again in the forest, both Chen Jen and Tzu-yu felt the call of solitude and the life of a hermit. For where better to experience harmony with the Flow of Nature than in her very bosom still unsullied by the grasping of men? And Yu Chu, too, became strangely elated, realizing perhaps the promise of the life that lay before him should he choose to stay in this wilderness beyond anything he had ever experienced.
They found the hermit working in his garden and he invited them all into his hut for some herbal tea. “This will refresh you,” said he, “for your road has been long and it tells on our new friend. But here you will find rest for more than your body,” he said, turning to Yu Chu.
“I see you have been busy with your brushes and ink,” said Chen Jen inspecting new creations hanging on the walls. “And this one here is of a different sort than the others I have seen. The tiger amidst the bamboo, so hidden he and the forest are one. And here in the distance a small figure steps from the ink to the untouched silk, into the empty void and eternity.” He paused, turned and studied the old hermit’s face and said, “King Ching Chi has fed the tiger, is it not so?”
“It is as you say,” replied the hermit. “On his very first day.”
“But that is horrible!” exclaimed Yu Chu.
Hearing this Chen Jen burst into laughter and the hermit and Tzu-yu soon followed suit.
Aghast, Yu Chu exclaimed, “At the news of the terrible death of your dear friend you laugh uproariously rather than mourn!?”
Mastering his amusement, Chen Jen answered him thus: “Your words were precisely the same as those uttered by King Ching Chi when he heard of another who had suffered the same fate. For this we are laughing and for the symmetry of events. For when our friend fed the tiger, he would have thought no such thing, having drunk deep enough of the Tao to see the beauty of death.”
“Nevertheless, should his death not be mourned out of proper respect!?” answered Yu Chu.
“Respect? Proper respect? Ah, yes I remember!” responded P’o-tzu. “Here in the forest, we have the advantage of living without proper respect for the ignorant conventions of men! What is our life but a morning mist, thin and tenuous and soon burned away? This is the Way of Nature, how could we not but say ‘Yes!’? It is the expression of Tao. What do we know more than Tao? We are free to live and truly live free when we let go this grasping to life and let be what be. King Ching Chi has let go his grip. Why would I grip it in his stead?”
“Who is Chen Jen,” added Chen Jen, “that I should fear for his loss? He is but a habit, and a foolish one at that. Who was King Ching Chi that I should mourn his loss? Miss him, I will, for he was a friend in this relative realm. But he has returned to the Source as all that is must do. That being so, should we not rather rejoice that his fulfillment has come?”
“It was his fate, then, to die so young?” asked Yu Chu.
“It is the fate of all men that they shall pass through the portal of death, but fate in the particular can only describe events now past,” answered Chen Jen. “As to whether young or old, the terms are merely relative and say little from the transcendent view of eternity.”
“Our friend is well mourned and remembered with affection in these very brush strokes before us here,” said Tzu-yu. “And his presence and his lessons are likewise brushed upon our hearts.”
With that the discussion ended leaving each one to digest the words as he would and to consider how much they reflected his heart’s own reality.
This post is part of a series. To view the index, go here.
Now for Chen Jen this parting was no easy task, for his five wards had come to love him, and clung to him with tears. But he said to them sternly, though he too fighting back tears, “For what have you learned to think for yourselves? Now you can learn without the impediment of a teacher! And what are these affections given their own head, are you not meant to rein them and be greater than they!?”
But he was greatly moved and promised them that he would return, if fate allowed that he should, to give them further instruction if only for a short time. “And see to it that you are ready with minds clear and still, and able to teach the teacher what can never be taught!”
And with that they were soon off on the long trip to the vale. And staying again with the farmer and his family, they heard of how King Ching Chi had entered their hearts and how he had, in their opinion, become a sage of great merit. But after just a few days, and that mostly for the resting of Yu Chu, they departed again, leaving simple gifts thought rare so far in the country.
When again in the forest, both Chen Jen and Tzu-yu felt the call of solitude and the life of a hermit. For where better to experience harmony with the Flow of Nature than in her very bosom still unsullied by the grasping of men? And Yu Chu, too, became strangely elated, realizing perhaps the promise of the life that lay before him should he choose to stay in this wilderness beyond anything he had ever experienced.
They found the hermit working in his garden and he invited them all into his hut for some herbal tea. “This will refresh you,” said he, “for your road has been long and it tells on our new friend. But here you will find rest for more than your body,” he said, turning to Yu Chu.
“I see you have been busy with your brushes and ink,” said Chen Jen inspecting new creations hanging on the walls. “And this one here is of a different sort than the others I have seen. The tiger amidst the bamboo, so hidden he and the forest are one. And here in the distance a small figure steps from the ink to the untouched silk, into the empty void and eternity.” He paused, turned and studied the old hermit’s face and said, “King Ching Chi has fed the tiger, is it not so?”
“It is as you say,” replied the hermit. “On his very first day.”
“But that is horrible!” exclaimed Yu Chu.
Hearing this Chen Jen burst into laughter and the hermit and Tzu-yu soon followed suit.
Aghast, Yu Chu exclaimed, “At the news of the terrible death of your dear friend you laugh uproariously rather than mourn!?”
Mastering his amusement, Chen Jen answered him thus: “Your words were precisely the same as those uttered by King Ching Chi when he heard of another who had suffered the same fate. For this we are laughing and for the symmetry of events. For when our friend fed the tiger, he would have thought no such thing, having drunk deep enough of the Tao to see the beauty of death.”
“Nevertheless, should his death not be mourned out of proper respect!?” answered Yu Chu.
“Respect? Proper respect? Ah, yes I remember!” responded P’o-tzu. “Here in the forest, we have the advantage of living without proper respect for the ignorant conventions of men! What is our life but a morning mist, thin and tenuous and soon burned away? This is the Way of Nature, how could we not but say ‘Yes!’? It is the expression of Tao. What do we know more than Tao? We are free to live and truly live free when we let go this grasping to life and let be what be. King Ching Chi has let go his grip. Why would I grip it in his stead?”
“Who is Chen Jen,” added Chen Jen, “that I should fear for his loss? He is but a habit, and a foolish one at that. Who was King Ching Chi that I should mourn his loss? Miss him, I will, for he was a friend in this relative realm. But he has returned to the Source as all that is must do. That being so, should we not rather rejoice that his fulfillment has come?”
“It was his fate, then, to die so young?” asked Yu Chu.
“It is the fate of all men that they shall pass through the portal of death, but fate in the particular can only describe events now past,” answered Chen Jen. “As to whether young or old, the terms are merely relative and say little from the transcendent view of eternity.”
“Our friend is well mourned and remembered with affection in these very brush strokes before us here,” said Tzu-yu. “And his presence and his lessons are likewise brushed upon our hearts.”
With that the discussion ended leaving each one to digest the words as he would and to consider how much they reflected his heart’s own reality.
This post is part of a series. To view the index, go here.
very good fun and good stuff :D
ReplyDeleteBut alas, it will soon come to an end.
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