If you haven't read Part 1 of this story, you should go back to read it first.
The three newly arrived sages, having each one implicitly decided to stay for some time, began constructing a modest hut to house them. Thinking it best to stay well within what must be the hermit’s protective circle, he alone seemingly immune to the tiger’s hunger, they chose a place nearby and closer to the stream. Here they found a cave-like hollow in the cliff that formed the vale’s south wall and with this to aid them, the work was soon done.
Next came the need for a garden and it was decided that the hermit’s garden could easily be enlarged. And though all gave a ready hand, soon it was clear that Yu Chu had discovered in himself a special love for this activity. And thus here he spent most of his waking hours, freeing them all for other pursuits of contemplation, art and poetry.
P’o-tzu applied himself as usual to long periods alone in the forest and amidst the ferns he called his friends. And from his brush came works of profound simplicity. Chen Jen and Tzu-yu likewise spent long hours absorbing the harmonies of the forest, but were careful to not stray too far lest they tempt fate in tiger form; for his roar was often heard. And often they wrote poetry, simple and spare, in an effort to catch the moods and thusness of Nature and the effect they had upon their hearts.
And frequently the evening light would find them all together, sharing and discussing their thoughts and works, in pleasant harmony.
Tzu-yu offered:
The tiger feeds
On an aspirant’s flesh.
The forest sage,
The final teaching.
“Truly death is life’s greatest teacher,” commented Chen Jen. “For nothing is more sure, nor is anything more hidden.”
Chen Jen offered:
What a joy, this singing stream!
Rising and passing beyond all knowledge
To and from an unknown sea.
“Indeed,” observed Tzu-yu, “of beginnings and endings we have no knowledge, only it must be that it is to and from a common Source. What is left, then, but to put away all fear and caring, and live in the freedom and joy of this relative moment!?”
And P’o-tzu offered:
In the sky above
A squirrel flies
In the talons of the hawk.
Life feasting on life
Ever self-arising in
Spontaneity.
“Is it not but one Life, after all?” suggested Tzu-yu. “And does it not arise spontaneously as though self-creating?”
And Yu Chu offered:
The summer grasses dance in the wind,
Nodding grainy heads,
Each according to its nature.
This post is part of a series. To view the index, go here.
The three newly arrived sages, having each one implicitly decided to stay for some time, began constructing a modest hut to house them. Thinking it best to stay well within what must be the hermit’s protective circle, he alone seemingly immune to the tiger’s hunger, they chose a place nearby and closer to the stream. Here they found a cave-like hollow in the cliff that formed the vale’s south wall and with this to aid them, the work was soon done.
Next came the need for a garden and it was decided that the hermit’s garden could easily be enlarged. And though all gave a ready hand, soon it was clear that Yu Chu had discovered in himself a special love for this activity. And thus here he spent most of his waking hours, freeing them all for other pursuits of contemplation, art and poetry.
P’o-tzu applied himself as usual to long periods alone in the forest and amidst the ferns he called his friends. And from his brush came works of profound simplicity. Chen Jen and Tzu-yu likewise spent long hours absorbing the harmonies of the forest, but were careful to not stray too far lest they tempt fate in tiger form; for his roar was often heard. And often they wrote poetry, simple and spare, in an effort to catch the moods and thusness of Nature and the effect they had upon their hearts.
And frequently the evening light would find them all together, sharing and discussing their thoughts and works, in pleasant harmony.
Tzu-yu offered:
The tiger feeds
On an aspirant’s flesh.
The forest sage,
The final teaching.
“Truly death is life’s greatest teacher,” commented Chen Jen. “For nothing is more sure, nor is anything more hidden.”
Chen Jen offered:
What a joy, this singing stream!
Rising and passing beyond all knowledge
To and from an unknown sea.
“Indeed,” observed Tzu-yu, “of beginnings and endings we have no knowledge, only it must be that it is to and from a common Source. What is left, then, but to put away all fear and caring, and live in the freedom and joy of this relative moment!?”
And P’o-tzu offered:
In the sky above
A squirrel flies
In the talons of the hawk.
Life feasting on life
Ever self-arising in
Spontaneity.
“Is it not but one Life, after all?” suggested Tzu-yu. “And does it not arise spontaneously as though self-creating?”
And Yu Chu offered:
The summer grasses dance in the wind,
Nodding grainy heads,
Each according to its nature.
This post is part of a series. To view the index, go here.
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