When the leaves had twice fallen, Chen Jen awoke one morning and saw his path arise before him, leading away from the hermit’s vale. And Tzu-yu, having heard him so speak, confirmed that he, too, felt the call to wander once more. And seeing that the provisions they had previously brought were now long exhausted, it was decided that they would leave and return once more to replenish them. For though both P’o-tzu and Yu Chu were able to live without the simple luxuries of rice and candles, they were greatly aided in having them.
Moreover, P’o-tzu had used all the ink and silk required for his painting and though he seemed as equally content in the exercise of his skill as in its absence, his works were of such moving beauty that the others felt it was a treasure not to be ignored. And learning of their intention to renew his supplies, he insisted that they take all but one of his creations and get for them whatever price they might bring and use the proceeds for the provisioning and for their future wanderings.
“For if these paintings stir the hearts of men such as you,” said he, “would they not be better out in the broad world where they might stir other hearts to find the Tao within? I will keep only that painting which speaks to us of the passage of our friend King Ching Chi.”
Thus the two sages once again took that familiar road out of the forest and to the town of Yi Chieh, the father of Chen Jen’s former pupils. And passing by the home of the farmer and his family they informed them of the passing of King Ching Chi.
But when his children wailed in grief, the farmer surprised them all by rebuking them saying, “It is normal that we should grieve the passing of our friend, but this wailing goes too far. For King Ching Chi’s passing is but another transformation and the way of all things under Heaven. You cried for the bird found dead at our door this winter, but was there not a new nest and more birds this very spring?”
Once again upon the road, Chen Jen again marveled at the wisdom residing within the heart of this simple farmer. “Is it not a great lesson to us both,” said he, “that such wisdom should reside in such a simple man of the earth?”
“Truly,” replied Tzu-yu, “wisdom is as far removed from books and learning as the stars from these roadside paddies. And the path to Tao is by way of simplicity.”
Arriving at the village still three days distant from the town of Chen Jen’s previous employ, they took to a small inn for a few days’ rest. For though both sages were used to long journeys, they were both more aware of their years and of the effects of their leisurely existence in the hermit’s vale.
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Moreover, P’o-tzu had used all the ink and silk required for his painting and though he seemed as equally content in the exercise of his skill as in its absence, his works were of such moving beauty that the others felt it was a treasure not to be ignored. And learning of their intention to renew his supplies, he insisted that they take all but one of his creations and get for them whatever price they might bring and use the proceeds for the provisioning and for their future wanderings.
“For if these paintings stir the hearts of men such as you,” said he, “would they not be better out in the broad world where they might stir other hearts to find the Tao within? I will keep only that painting which speaks to us of the passage of our friend King Ching Chi.”
Thus the two sages once again took that familiar road out of the forest and to the town of Yi Chieh, the father of Chen Jen’s former pupils. And passing by the home of the farmer and his family they informed them of the passing of King Ching Chi.
But when his children wailed in grief, the farmer surprised them all by rebuking them saying, “It is normal that we should grieve the passing of our friend, but this wailing goes too far. For King Ching Chi’s passing is but another transformation and the way of all things under Heaven. You cried for the bird found dead at our door this winter, but was there not a new nest and more birds this very spring?”
Once again upon the road, Chen Jen again marveled at the wisdom residing within the heart of this simple farmer. “Is it not a great lesson to us both,” said he, “that such wisdom should reside in such a simple man of the earth?”
“Truly,” replied Tzu-yu, “wisdom is as far removed from books and learning as the stars from these roadside paddies. And the path to Tao is by way of simplicity.”
Arriving at the village still three days distant from the town of Chen Jen’s previous employ, they took to a small inn for a few days’ rest. For though both sages were used to long journeys, they were both more aware of their years and of the effects of their leisurely existence in the hermit’s vale.
This post is part of a series. To view the index, go here.
very nice. thanks for posting
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