I. Tea-master

You've probably heard this tale before, but please bear with me.

A tea-master was strolling through Kyoto when he bumped into a ronin on the busy street. He apologized profusely, of course; but the swordsman, like many who lack honor, had filled himself with vanity instead. As he raised his katana to slaughter the hapless man, a sudden whim took his fancy: drawing his unblooded wakizashi, he slapped its hilt into the master's quaking palm. "Meet me by the gate at noon tomorrow," grinned the ronin, "and we'll have some sport. Otherwise I'll hunt you down."

By a stroke of what we (who cannot see the Pattern) must call fortune, the tea-master's house was being honored by a visit from a legendary samurai, an old friend from Lord Yamanouchi's court. In desperation, the master begged his guest to teach him the ways of the blade. "Very well," the warrior said grimly. "Fetch my bokken at once."

But after a few hours, it was miserably clear that the tea-master had no aptitude. "It is hopeless," he mumbled. "Tomorrow at noon, I shall be slain."

The old samurai nodded. "Yes. Come, friend, let us have tea together one last time."

Bent with misery, the master began to perform the ancient rituals of his Art. And the samurai noticed something strange: as the tea-master handled the fragrant leaves and steaming pots, every trace of terror drained away. Past and future lifted from his shoulders--all techniques became one technique--he moved correctly with no constraint.

"Stop!" barked the samurai. "Do you want to kill your enemy tomorrow?"

The master stared. "You said there is no hope."

"Not of survival. But do you want to die like a man? Do you want to take your enemy with you?"

". . . Yes. Yes, I do."

"Then do what you are doing now," said the warrior.

"But I am not doing anything!" the tea-master objected.

"Exactly. Do not think, do not feel. Simply raise your sword, cut, and die."

The master, being a master, understood.

When the ronin arrived the next day at the place ordained for the combat, he found the tea-master already waiting. The honorless swordsman chuckled and stepped closer, unscabbarding his weapon--but then he paused. Where was the cringing buffoon from only a day before? The tea-master was naked to the waist, his wakizashi gleaming in the sunlight, motionless. The ronin d...

Posts

Wikitag Contributions

Comments