Six Pairs of Earrings

Six Pairs of Earrings

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Once upon a time in far off lands there was a stringent and powerful king that ruled his vast kingdom with an iron hand.

The beautiful queen, in contrast, was compassionate and generous. As the king loved her very dearly her influence often softened his stance on state matters and military affairs and spared many from certain hardship and calamity.

Unfortunately, as her influence grew, so did the number of her enemies who stood to gain from wars and the, now suppressed, oppressive measures.

Mysteriously, the beautiful queen one day fell ill and died soon after. The king reverted back to his warring ways and caused many innocent folk to suffer once again.

A few upright ministers got together at long last and managed to persuade the king to remarry. Their hope was that he would be more reasonable if he had tender love in his heart once more.

But who should it be? The king had left the decision up in the air, to be discussed later.

A wise minister, a close friend visiting the Prime Minister Coen at this time put forth the suggestion that he would be rendering a useful service to the realm if he could recommend a suitable mate to the monarch.

The prime minister, after a prolonged silence, nodded and exclaimed. “Of course you are right sir. To tell you the truth, I had long held the same view. Only one difficulty made me hesitant in approaching his Highness with a suggestion. As you well know, our Sovereign has six concubines who are all very close to his Highness.

“The difficulty is in determining which of them the king’s favorite is. If my recommendation differs from his Highness’s choice I would certainly offend the new queen, with dire consequences for me later on.”

The wise minister nodded his understanding. “There is a way out of this dilemma,” he finally added. “The Summer’s End Gala will be upon us in a couple of days.”

If you wish to discover the king’s favorite present his Highness with six pairs of earrings depicting a lovely orchid. Five pairs should be identical in quality and style, but the sixth pair should be of discernibly higher quality.

“When you learn which of the six concubines receive the best earrings, you will understand the king’s thinking on the subject.”

Prime Minister Coen was pleased and took his friend’s advice. When the king chose his new queen, she was the same concubine whom he had recommended. Peace reigned ever afterwards in the Kingdom



The End

The Taste of Banzo’s Sword

The Taste of Banzo’s Sword

Matajuro Yagyu was the son of a famous swordsman. His father, believing that his son’s work was too mediocre to anticipate even an average level of competence, disowned him.

So Matajuro went to Mount Futara and there found the famous swordsman Banzo. But Banzo confirmed the father’s judgment. “You wish to learn swordsmanship under my guidance?” asked Banzo. “You cannot fulfill the requirements.”

“But if I work hard, how many years will it take me to become a master?” persisted the youth.

“The rest of your life,” replied Banzo.

“I cannot wait that long,” explained Matajuro. “ But I am willing to pass through any hardship if only you will teach me. If I become your devoted servant, how long might it be?”

“Oh, maybe ten years,” Banzo relented.

“My father is getting old, and soon I must take care of him,” continued Matajuro. “If I work far more intensively, how long would it take me?”

“Oh, maybe thirty years,” said Banzo.

“Why is that?” asked Matajuro. “First you say ten and now thirty years. I will undergo any hardship to master this art in the shortest time!”

“Well,” said Banzo, “in that case you will have to remain with me for seventy years. A man in such a hurry as you are to get results seldom learns quickly.”

“Very well,” declared the youth, understanding at last that he was being rebuked for impatience, “I agree.”

Matajuro was told never to speak of fencing and never to touch a sword. He cooked for his master, washed the dishes, made his bed, cleaned the yard, cared for the garden, all without a word of swordsmanship.

Three years passed. Still Matajuro labored on. Thinking of his future, he was sad. He had not even begun to learn the art to which he had devoted his life.

But one day Banzo crept up behind him and gave him a terrific blow with a wooden sword.

The following day, when Matajuro was cooking rice, Banzo again sprang upon him unexpectedly.

After that, day and night, Matajuro had to defend himself from unexpected thrusts. Not a moment passed in any day that he did not have to think of the taste of Banzo’s sword.

He learned so rapidly he brought smiles to the face of his master. Matajuro became the greatest swordsman in the land.


The End

The Sacred Tree

The Sacred Tree

“The useful declines to be used,

whereas the useless asks to be used.” Tao.



Once upon a time a well known carpenter named Shih, accompanied by his young and impressionable apprentice, was travelling through the untamed countryside, often taking shortcuts in order to reach the state of Ch’i on time.

Their travels at one point led them to the Shady Circle, where they observed a sacred Li tree in the temple dedicated to the God of Earth. The tree was immensely huge, so large in fact that it provided shelter to a herd of several thousand cattle and still left room for more. It was a hundred spans in girth, towering up eighty or ninety feet over the hilltop, before it branched out. Countless admiring crowds with their faces turned up, stood there gazing in awe at this miracle on earth.

The apprentice too had halted briefly and fixed his eyes also on this magnificence, thinking how a dozen boats could be cut out of it. He hastened his steps to catch up to his master, who’d continued on his way quite unconcerned. Bit puzzled, he addressed his master tentatively, “Master, in all this time that I’ve been fortunate enough to have handled an adz in your service, I have never seen such superb example of timber. How was it that you, Master, cared not pause a step, to even perfunctorily observe it?”

“Forget about it, it’s hardly worth the mention,” the master shrugged smugly. Observing the puzzled look on the stubborn apprentice’s face however, he relented. “The tree is good for nothing. Made into a boat, it would sink; into a coffin, it would rot; into furniture, it would break easily; into a door, it would sweat; into a pillar, it would be worm-eaten. Despite its size the wood is of no quality, and therefore of no use. That’s why it has survived to attain its present age.”

By dusk of the fifth day, the carpenter and his apprentice had finally reached home. After unburdening themselves of their baggage and washing up, they partook of a satisfying repast. That evening, as he snuggled cosily under the quilts, the carpenter had an unsettling dream.

He dreamt that the displeased spirit of the tree appeared to him and spoke to him harshly, as follows:

“Your arrogance is unconscionable. What is it tell me you intend to compare me with? Is it with fine-grained wood? Consider the pear, the orange, the pomelo, cherry-apple and all other fruit bearers: as soon as their fruit ripens they are stripped and treated with such indignity. The great boughs are snapped off, the small ones scattered abroad.

Thus do these trees by their own value cause injury to their own lives. Sadly they cannot fulfill their allotted span of years, but expire prematurely; all because they are destroyed for bringing forth the admiration of the world.

“Thus it is with all things. In view of this, I’ve strove long and hard to appear useless. Even so, many a time I had a close brush with the peril of being cut down. My wits and my ways however in the end succeeded in deterring them from their aim, and so I endured and grew to these heights; being only useful to myself.

“My kindness now propels me to impart on you few facts:

“In your pitifully brief human history Tsech’i of Nan-po was once travelling on the hill of Shang when he chanced upon a huge tree that greatly astonished him. In his mind he accounted that a thousand chariot teams of four horses could seek shelter under its shade. Reining on his horse under it and pointing he therefore shouted: “What sort of tree is this? Surely it must bear an unusual fine timber.” Then as he looked more closely, he saw that its branches were too crooked for rafters; and looking down he noted that the trunk’s twisting loose grain made it valueless for coffins. Reaching he plucked a leaf and tasted it; at once his face crinkled for it took the skin off his lips. The odor meanwhile was too strong that it would make a man insensate for several days. “Ah!” said Tsech’i, “this tree is really good for nothing, and that is how it has attained this size. A spiritual man might well follow its example of useless.”

“You may also recall that in the State of Sung there is a land belonging to the Ching, where thrive the catalpa, the cedar, and the mulberry. Such as are of one span or so in girth are cut down for monkey cages. Those of two or three spans are harvested for the beams of fine houses. Those of seven or eight spans are cut down for the jointless sides of rich men’s coffins. Alas, they do not fulfill their allotted span of years, but perish under the ax, all too young. Such is the misfortunes that overtake the worthy.

“In contrast; for sacrifices to the River God neither pigs with high snouts, nor bulls with white foreheads, nor men suffering from piles, can be used. For every soothsayer regards these as inauspicious. To the wise, however, these are regarded extremely auspicious, if only to themselves.

“I’m reminded of an account of a certain hunchback named Su. His jaws touched his navel. His shoulders were higher than his head. His neck bone stuck out towards the ultimate sky. His viscera were turned upside down. His buttocks were where his ribs should have been. Yet he lived rather comfortably. By sifting rice, or tailing, or washing, he earned his keep and achieved enough to support a family of ten.

“When the orders for conscription came, whether for the army or for public works, the hunchback walked about unconcerned among his peers, for his deformity excluded him from all such. Meanwhile, when the donations of grain for the disadvantaged and the disabled were handed out, the hunchback received as much as three measures, and when firewood was allotted, ten faggots. If physical deformity was thus sufficient to preserve his body until the end of his days, how much more should a moral and mental deformity avail!

“Alas, it’s a sad fact that mountain trees invite their own cutting down, lamp oil invites its own burning up. Lacquer can be used, there the tree is scraped; cinnamon bark can be eaten; therefore the tree is cut down. All men know the utility of useful things; but they do not know the utility of futility.

“As you and I are both created things, I ponder on the soundness of this good-for-nothing fellow: you, who’s in imminent danger of death, passing so demeaning a remark on the supposed good-for-nothing tree.”

The subsequent morning the carpenter Shih awakened with a start, covered with perspiration, and sat up on his bed for a while collecting his thoughts. His mind fastened just then on the well known fact:

That when Confucius was in the Ch’u State, the eccentric Chieh Yu passed his door, saying, “O phoenix! O phoenix! How has thy virtue fallen! Wait not for the coming years, nor hanker back to the past. When the right principles prevail on earth, prophets will fulfill their mission. When the right principles prevail not, they will but preserve themselves. At the present day, they are but trying to keep out of jail! The good fortunes of this world are light as feathers, yet none estimates them at their true value. The misfortunes of this life are weighty as the earth, yet none knows how to keep out of their reach. No more, no more, show off your virtue. Beware, beware, and move cautiously on! O brambles, O brambles, wound not my steps! I pick my way about, hurt not my feet!”

Later on that day when the carpenter Shih, heard his apprentice exclaim, “If the tree aimed at uselessness, how was it that it became a sacred tree?”

“Hush!” he responded gravely. “Keep quiet. I was wrong. It merely took refuge in the temple to escape from the abuse of those who do not appreciate it. Had it not become sacred, how many would have wanted to cut it down! Moreover, the means it adopts for safety are different from that of others, and to criticize it by ordinary standards would be far wide of the mark.”

A lesson was well learned!

The End.