Now of the wanderings and adventures of Chen Jen there were many more than I have time or inclination to here relate. Of his final passing, then, I will now write.
As he and Tzu-yu were slowly making their way toward the Northern Forest they were set upon by bandits who struck them down with clubs, stole their few possessions and left them there for dead. But Tzu-yu, awakening in the night to the moans of Chen Jen, crawled to the side of his companion whose body was terribly broken. Yet he found him conscious and lucid. “Alas, my friend,” said Tzu-yu, “the end of our wanderings has come; and at the hands of men most bestial, at that.”
“Indeed,” answered Chen Jen, “it is an end most fitting. For a death by hazard and without all pretense of meaning is the one most in harmony with the life we have led. And here in this wilderness I shall pass beyond all knowing even as I have lived. How can I not be thankful for even this? The impenetrable Unknown embraces all and thus all is just as it must be.”
“It is just as you say,” replied Tzu-yu, “for IS cannot help but be. Yet we live still, and perhaps the awareness within will yet further soar.”
“Alas, my friend, my body is broken beyond all fixing and my eyes even now grow dim. But you, Tzu-yu, may longer here abide; enjoy, then, this fleeting time when awareness is self-aware.”
“I cannot but even now begin to grieve your loss, dear friend, and wonder if death will not in the end triumph over primal trust,” exclaimed Tzu-yu.
“I will not say, ‘grieve me not,’ for grief is by nature of the human lot. But you well know to transcend all earthly care, for all that we experience is but a story made up. Like dust in the wind, it rises and swirls only to pass as if it never were.
Come then and take my hand, for I now pass into the Void.”
Taking his hand, Tzu-yu said, “Should I retain this life and from this place remove, truly I will write a book of your life and your teachings for the world of men to hold.”
“But my only true teaching is the life that I have lived,” replied Chen Jen, “and that is about to pass beyond all knowing. And my words have been but straw-effigies, useful to the point of heart-surrender and then again nothing but straw.”
“Still, I shall share of your life and of your words,” answered Tzu-yu, “for who knows but that by that sharing some might find the way of peace and harmony.”
“All shall find the same way just as all shall follow me into the same Void. In the end, it matters not that they find it in life or in death. Yet, thankful I am that I did find it in this life.”
And so Tzu-yu, holding the hand of his dear companion, waited with him his return.
And just before his passing Chen Jen said, “Bury not this body, for you are gravely hurt. Only drag this corpse off the trail, lest the bones or offal offend another.”
And then, Chen Jen was no more — just as he had never been.
I, Tzu-yu, have written this and testify that such was the life and teachings of Chen Jen.
This post is part of a series. To view the index, go here.
As he and Tzu-yu were slowly making their way toward the Northern Forest they were set upon by bandits who struck them down with clubs, stole their few possessions and left them there for dead. But Tzu-yu, awakening in the night to the moans of Chen Jen, crawled to the side of his companion whose body was terribly broken. Yet he found him conscious and lucid. “Alas, my friend,” said Tzu-yu, “the end of our wanderings has come; and at the hands of men most bestial, at that.”
“Indeed,” answered Chen Jen, “it is an end most fitting. For a death by hazard and without all pretense of meaning is the one most in harmony with the life we have led. And here in this wilderness I shall pass beyond all knowing even as I have lived. How can I not be thankful for even this? The impenetrable Unknown embraces all and thus all is just as it must be.”
“It is just as you say,” replied Tzu-yu, “for IS cannot help but be. Yet we live still, and perhaps the awareness within will yet further soar.”
“Alas, my friend, my body is broken beyond all fixing and my eyes even now grow dim. But you, Tzu-yu, may longer here abide; enjoy, then, this fleeting time when awareness is self-aware.”
“I cannot but even now begin to grieve your loss, dear friend, and wonder if death will not in the end triumph over primal trust,” exclaimed Tzu-yu.
“I will not say, ‘grieve me not,’ for grief is by nature of the human lot. But you well know to transcend all earthly care, for all that we experience is but a story made up. Like dust in the wind, it rises and swirls only to pass as if it never were.
Come then and take my hand, for I now pass into the Void.”
Taking his hand, Tzu-yu said, “Should I retain this life and from this place remove, truly I will write a book of your life and your teachings for the world of men to hold.”
“But my only true teaching is the life that I have lived,” replied Chen Jen, “and that is about to pass beyond all knowing. And my words have been but straw-effigies, useful to the point of heart-surrender and then again nothing but straw.”
“Still, I shall share of your life and of your words,” answered Tzu-yu, “for who knows but that by that sharing some might find the way of peace and harmony.”
“All shall find the same way just as all shall follow me into the same Void. In the end, it matters not that they find it in life or in death. Yet, thankful I am that I did find it in this life.”
And so Tzu-yu, holding the hand of his dear companion, waited with him his return.
And just before his passing Chen Jen said, “Bury not this body, for you are gravely hurt. Only drag this corpse off the trail, lest the bones or offal offend another.”
And then, Chen Jen was no more — just as he had never been.
I, Tzu-yu, have written this and testify that such was the life and teachings of Chen Jen.
This post is part of a series. To view the index, go here.
thanks for this series. i've really enjoyed them, as they're much easier to digest than the more abstract taoist writings.
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(wink) There's even more to come!
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