The Tea-Master and the Assassin

The Tea-Master and the Assassin

“Taiko, a warrior who lived in Japan before the Tokugawa era, studied Cha-no-yu, tea etiquette, with Sen no Rikyu, a teacher of that aesthetical expression of calmness and contentment.

Taiko's attendant warrior Kato interpreted his superior's enthusiasm for tea etiquette as negligence of state affairs, so he decided to kill Sen no Rikyu. He pretended to make a social call upon the tea-master and was invited to drink tea.

The master, who was well skilled in his art, saw at a glance the warrior's intention, so he invited Kato to leave his sword outside before entering the room for the ceremony, explaining the Cha-no-yu represents peacefulness itself.

Kato would not listen to this. "I am a warrior," he said. "I always have my sword with me. Cha-no-yu or no Cha-no-yu, I have my sword."

"Very well. Bring your sword in and have some tea," consented Sen no Rikyu.

The kettle was boiling on the charcoal fire. Suddenly Sen no Rikyu tipped it over. Hissing steam arose, filling the room with smoke and ashes. The startled warrior ran outside.

The tea-master apologized. "It was my mistake. Come back in and have some tea. I have your sword here covered with ashes and will clean it and give it to you."

In this predicament the warrior realized he could not very well kill the tea-master, so he gave up the idea.”

Fini

A Good Father

A Good Father

Once upon a time in a small coastal village nestled in a remote corner of the world there lived a very quiet, devout person, who everyone knew as Hans Yohn. He had arrived in the village some years back with his few possessions tucked into a bundle under his arm. With the small amount of cash he brought with him he bought an abandoned wreck of a farm and proceeded to set up home there. With no friends or relatives he lived out his days in his humble dwelling and spent most of his days planting and tending his roots and vegetables on his small plot of land. At nights he would read the scriptures and pray. No one knew much about him but they respected him none the less as he was always above board, kind, sincere and always ready to lend a helping hand.

His closest neighbour was a store owner that lived with his wife and a beautiful daughter. They made a rather good living selling much needed supplies to the local crofters and fisherman. One day, to the utter consternation of the parents, they discovered that their teenage daughter was with child. Fuming, the father pestered his daughter till he obtained her unwilling confession of the culprit‘s identity.

Though a great shock, they took her at her word and confronted Hans with his supposed wrongdoing. The father was itching to beat Hans to a pulp, but the quiet farmer gave him no cause to unleash his full fury. Hans had simply listened patiently to his irate neighbor's long and fiery tirade without showing the least emotion, then at the end of it he simply shrugged and in a muted tone agreed, “Whatever you say.”

The father returned home indignant and still fuming.

In the subsequent months as she became visibly pregnant, the unavoidable gossip spread like wildfire throughout the village engendering great animosity toward Hans Yohn. But once more he endured it all with his usual quiet disposition. Even the rowdy children who lay in ambush to pelt him with rocks eventually got tired of their campaign once they saw they could not anger him.

After the child was born, the indignant parents, ignoring their daughter’s pleas and protestations, delivered the healthy baby boy to Hans Yohn’s doorstep in a bassinet. Hans accepted the infant without any apparent emotion and from that day forth proceeded to taking a very good care of the baby. He saw to it that the baby was safe and comfortable then went outside to fetch some goat’s milk, which would have to suffice as he could not pay for a wet nurse. Nor did he question the quirks of fate, as he too in his infancy, had been abandoned at the doorstep of a recluse. He was fortunate in that the stranger was a good person and had done right by him. He will reciprocate that kindness now.

The mother of the infant kept her silence, not wanting to jeopardize her nascent hopes. Then one day when a particular ship with its sparse crew had once more docked in the village’s puny port her heart leapt for joy. All this time she had harbored the wish that her young man would keep his promise, return to ask her hand in marriage and make things right by her. The young sailor, as expected, again secretly sought her attentions but upon being told of the child, his unexpected icy demeanor, the subsequent denial and rebuke had irrevocably broken her heart. After that she wanted absolutely nothing to do with him and told him a blatant lie, robbing him of any possible future claim to the child.

On this day as she’d watched a distant ship’s departure, she reflected about Hans and recalled with tightness in her chest all that the young farmer had endured on her account. In the subsequent months the girl’s conscience persisted in troubling her. Then one evening over dinner she simply broke down and tearfully confessed the truth about the baby’s paternity to her parents. Pleading for forgiveness, she declared that Hans Yohn had nothing to do with it and that he was entirely innocent. When the commotion died down, both parents along with their daughter showed up at Hans’ door to ask humbly and at length for his forgiveness and to retrieve the burdensome bundle they had left in his care.

He listened again without the least expression to the father’s explanations, the ensuing regrets and profound apologies. He rose with only a murmur passing his lips, “Whatever you say.” Then with a solemn expression, fetched the peacefully sleeping child and delivered him into their hands.

As they were leaving, the girl turned her head to look apologetically at him once more and saw a single tear glistening on his cheek as he turned and disappeared back inside his hut.

The End

Portrait of a Stingy Squire

Portrait of a Stingy Squire

There was once a wealthy landowner named Daner, who acquired his wealth through illicit means, such as manipulation, extortion and loans with unreasonable interest rates advanced to fallen gentry.

As he amassed incredible riches, he then set himself up in a lofty mansion in the country and proceeded to surrounded himself with all the trappings of the rich.

As all his former opulent lineage had done he wished to have his portrait painted and hung over the fireplace in his great reception hall, so as to invoke awe from every invited guest.

A renowned Artist was subsequently approached and a portrait was commissioned. As rich as he was however, Daner plied the artist with wine then argued the price relentlessly in the end forcing the artist to accept a paltry sum for the portrait.

The Artist returned home with a severe hangover and fell into a troubled sleep. Upon waking the following morning and recalling the last night’s events he was infuriated beyond measure. Unfortunately he could not invalidate or revoke the iron clad agreement. Looking at the paltry sum he ground his teeth and then burst into laughter.

On the subsequent day the artist showed up as arranged to paint the portrait of the miserly landowner. His assistant carried all the supplies and set it up for him. Squire Daner took up his lofty pose standing by an impressive fireplace with an impressive wall library.

These were the books Daner had acquired over time through many auctions of the gentry he’d ruined; rare books he’d not read a single page of. The artist made the necessary sketches and returned to his studio to complete the work.

Squire Daner was called to the artist studio several days later, to take possession of the completed work.

Grinning from ear to ear, Daner sized up the covered huge canvas then, in eager anticipation, asked the artist to uncover the masterpiece.

The artist did as he was asked.

But what’s this?

There, standing before Daner, in uncanny detail, was a life-size rendition of his back facing an open window with light streaming into his impressive library.

“What’s the meaning of this?” He barked at the artist. “A portrait should show a person’s countenance. Why have you drawn the back of my figure? This will not do, no sir, it won’t do: I want my money back!”

“Here’s your paltry sum. “ The artist plumped the few coins into palm of Daner. “My advice to a person as stingy as you, sir, is not to show your face to others. Now I shall ask you to leave these premises as I have other pressing appointments elsewhere.”

He’d expected the miserly landowner to storm out of there with a huff and with curses on his lips, but he did neither. Instead with a grim face he pondered on the few coins in his palm then on the portrait weighing out the bargain.

In the end he said, “No sir, a deal has been struck. I shall take the painting.” as he pompously dropped the coins onto the table.

His servant carried the canvas out and it is said it hung in Squire Daner's private sturdy where only a few were privy to view.

The end.

The Discerning Tailor

The Discerning Tailor

Stebo was visiting with some old friends. After the day’s events of fun and catching up, as darkness blanketed the sky, the party showed no indication of slowing down. In the hopes of prolonging their enjoyment they pestered Stebo yet again for one of his wondrous stories. With his eyes drooping, for he was in fact rather worn out, he nodded obligingly and mumbled, “But a rather concise one this time”. They all got comfortable and following a brief introduction to human traits, Stebo began his story:

“Once upon a time there was a well known tailor whose outstanding work had earned him both fame and fortune. Because of his exceptional competence he enjoyed a long list of well to do, loyal clients from far and wide. There were also many rumours of his exploits that never failed to entertain people whenever they gathered.

It was said that once a particularly austere and haughty judge was assigned to the rather prosperous district in the Yeronos County. Feeling the need of more ostentatious attire, he sends for this tailor.

Upon arriving and hearing of the commission the first thing the astute tailor did, instead of taking measurements, was to bow slightly and inquire about the official’s title and length of service.

“I fail to see the significance of your query.”The official frowned and said in a stern voice, annoyed at the tailor’s audacity.

“I beg your pardon my Lord,” The tailor at once with another supplicate bow explained. “When an official is newly promoted to a high post, elated and proud, he’ll walk with his chest stuck out and will lean slightly backwards. Therefore the front of his garment must be modified to be a little longer than the back.

For the official halfway through his posting who feels well established and mature, with little surprises to be had, the front and the back of the robe must be equal in length.

When an old experienced official is transferred to a new post and he’s reticently anticipating his forthcoming retirement, his posture will bend a bit. Mindful of this, the front of his vestment should be cut shorter than the back.

This information is vital therefore for the execution of a proper fit.”

The End

The Willow Legend

The Willow Legend

(My version)



Long, long ago in ancient China, there lived a very wealthy mandarin. He had a beautiful daughter named Koong-se. The mandarin had in his employ a secretary named Chang. While Chang was attending to his master’s accounts one day a chance encounter with the beautiful maiden Koong-se caused him to fall deeply and hopelessly in love with her. As he was most handsome and charismatic she also had fallen in love with him after this brief encounter.

Unable to keep away; the following day at dusk they met clandestinely in a magnificent garden with rare and exotic fruit trees and professed their love for each other and exchanged vows of fidelity beneath a large Willow tree. Unfortunately this breach of conduct came to the attention of the Mandarin who was greatly incensed and dismissed the young man at once, banishing him from the state, for he regarded the secretary most unworthy of his high born daughter. In an angry reprimand the Mandarin then virtually imprisoned her in her private quarters and had her activities continually monitored to make sure his orders were carried out.

Koong-se spent the following days engulfed in a miasma of hopelessness, as she remained imprisoned in the pavilion. She watched the construction of a high zig-zag fence that was to ensure the lovers remain apart in dismay. After a time, because of health concerns the restrictions on Koong-se were gradually eased and she was permitted a leisurely walk in the gardens and by the water’s edge. The love struck maiden however, could not forget the handsome young man she’d fallen in love with and, with longing heart, her thoughts often reverted to the happier times they both had shared. Sometimes she would sit beneath the Willow tree that had once been a place of joy and quietly weep. Months went by but Koong-se still longed to see her handsome, young Chang.

Then one day her eyes caught sight of a shell fitted with sails containing a poem, and a bead which Koong-se had given to Chang. It had floated to the water’s edge. Koong-se’s heart jumped for joy as new hope sprung anew, for she knew then that her lover had not forsaken her.

Her elation was short lived and joy turned to consternation when that evening she was summoned by her father where she learned of her betrothal to Ta-Jin, a very powerful, warrior Duke. Worse still, the Duke Ta-Jin was many years her senior and was renowned for his malice. Her heart sank in despair when it was announced to her that her future husband would be arriving in a few days time, bearing gifts of jewels to celebrate their betrothal. The wedding was to take place on the day the blossoms fell from the willow tree.

Then came the dreaded day when the Duke arrived by boat with all pomp and ceremony to claim his young, beautiful bride, bearing box of jewels as a gift.

On the eve of Koong-se’s wedding to the Duke, when all grew sleepy with the wine in their cups, Chang, disguised as a servant, slipped into the house unnoticed. At the banquet the Mandarin, the Duke and the quests, totally inebriated, failed to take any notice of the disguised Chang, who easily passed through to the interior garden.

Earlier, Chang had sent a message to Koong-se via her personal maid, in order to arrange a clandestine meeting by the Willow tree. Koong-se therefore had also fled through the hushed rooms, carrying the casket of jewels. Now in the inner gardens, as Chang drew near, he saw his beautiful Koong-se sitting beneath the tree. Chang rushed to embrace her. They were so much in love that no words needed to be spoken out loud: they would brave all dangers, not wanting to face the future apart. They would elope and get married or die trying.

The Mandarin, the Duke, and the invited guests even some of the servants had consumed so much wine that the couple almost made it through to safety. But unfortunately, just as they reached the outer gate the Mandarin awoke saw his daughter and Chang fleeing with the jewels and in a drunken rage pursued them with his whip in hand across the little bridge that spanned the river.

Koong-se was carrying her distaff, a symbol of virginity while Chang was entrusted with the jewels. The couple raced across the bridge to an awaiting boat and sailed away. The alarm was raised; and it took the lovers and their helpers a harrowing effort to eventually outrun the Duke’s ship. Chang, Koong-se and her personal maid, who’d been dismissed for conspiring with the lovers but who had snuck back in to aid her in her escape, took refuge on a far off island. The mandarin official of this small island hated the Duke and so welcomed the lovers with the maid into his home. He was willing to harbour the refugees for however long was necessary until the danger abated. After a private ceremony with the Mandarin’s blessings, the lovers officially became husband and wife. For a period of time Chang lived happily as the Mandarin's gardener with his wife and the maid. When the Duke discovered their whereabouts however, Chang and Koong-se was forced to flee once again.

They poled a tiny boat down the Yang-Tze until they came to a remote small island. Here, they thought they would be out of harm’s way. Selling the reminder of the jewels, they purchased this island and built a lovely pavilion on it. Chang tilled the land until it blossomed with every kind of fruit and vegetable. So successful were his agricultural ventures, Chang wrote a book about how to cultivate the land and published it under an assumed name. Over time Chang became renowned for his brilliant work and this, unfortunately, came to the attention of the vindictive Duke Ta-Jin. Guessing who the author was and still hungry for vengeance, he immediately dispatched armed guards to the island to capture and kill the lovers.

Ta-Jin's soldiers came upon Chang as he was working his fields and slew him. Koong-se, who had watched the entire scene from afar, rushed into their pavilion and set it afire, determined to be with Chang in death as she had been in life. Thus they both perished. The Gods looking down on the tragedy could not help but be moved by Chang and Koong-se’s plight and their undying love and devotion to the end. And so they transformed Chang and Koong-se into two beautiful white doves. These immortal lovebirds can still be seen today flying high above the Willow Tree where Koong-se and Chang first pledged their love for one another.

(Note: This is, in all probability, a later addition to the tale since the birds do not appear on the earliest willow pattern plates. Nevertheless, the story lives on forever through the Willow-pattern plate and now has come home to roost as China has joined the fray and are producing plates with same design. )

The End.

Exchanging Discourse for Lodging

Exchanging Discourse for Lodging

Monks, especially wandering monks, do not carry cash on their person; therefore a custom was developed for the provision of adequate lodging. The traveler was required to undertake and win a debate about Buddhism with the inhabitants of the temple. In the event of a rare defeat he will have to move on. For this reason most temples only made a token attempt at winning the debate thus preserving the custom.

It so happens that in a temple at the far reaches of the country there dwelt two brother monks, passing the days in perfect harmony. This despite the fact they were vastly different in temperament and intelligence. The elder one was quite learned and wise, while the slow-witted younger one was unpredictable, moody and had only one good eye.

At dusk on a tempestuous day, when the sky was riddled with ominous clouds that threatened downpours any minute, a wandering monk knocked at the gate, seeking refuge for the night. A novice showing him to a room carried his proper challenge to a debate about the sublime teachings back to the brother monks.

The elder brother was much fatigued from diligent study of the scriptures and his heavy chores on that day, so he asked his younger brother to take his place this once. On the point of exiting the room however, not entirely trusting in other’s abilities, he cautioned, “Request the silent discourse.”

Nodding, the young monk left. Meeting the traveler at the shrine later, he sat down and started the silent dialogue.

Sometime later the traveler rose with resignation and sought the older monk to offer his farewells. “Your younger brother is a truly wonderful fellow. He defeated me proper.”

The weather outside had gotten worse as the torrential rains, driven by high winds, shook the walls of the temple. The elder brother was sorry to see him go but was at the same time amazed at the unexpected outcome. He quietly said.

“Can you relay the dialogue to me?”

“Well,” explained the travelling monk, “first I held up one finger, representing Buddha, the enlightened one. Your younger brother held up two fingers together, signifying Buddha and his teaching. I held up three fingers, representing Buddha, his teaching, and his followers, living the harmonious life. He’s truly brilliant; your brother is, for he then shook his clenched fist in my face, indicating that all three come from one realization. Thus he won the debate fair and square and so I now take my leave.” With this, the traveler reluctantly rose and left the premises.

“There is more to this than meets the eye.” The elder monk mused when, just then, his younger brother burst into the room.

“Now where is that fellow!” He asked irately.

“Calm yourself brother,” The elder indicated the seat across, “I understand you won the debate fair and square.”

“Won nothing!” The other huffed, “As soon as I catch him, I am going to give him a sound thrashing!”

“Is that any way to be?” The elder chastised him gently, sporting a bemused smile. “Come now, take a long breath, sit down and calmly tell me what was said.”

After a brief hesitation the younger brother did as he was bid. “Why, the second he saw me he held up one finger, insinuating that I have only one eye. As if I needed to be told. Since he was a stranger, wanting to be polite, I overlooked this and held up two of my fingers, congratulating him that he has two eyes. But the ill-mannered wretch held up three fingers, suggesting that between us we have three eyes. Would you believe it! I was so enraged that I held up my fist, in readiness to punch him, but the lout ran out and that ended it!”

Fini

The Contest of Silence

The Contest of Silence

Meditation was taught to students in this private school as part of their curriculum.

Four close friends challenged by a rival group, undertook to observe twenty four hours of silence. The bet was that if they won they would be absolved from any chores whilst if they lost, they would complete all the chores of the winners for a week. Two impartial students were designated to keep a close eye on all participants.

On the designated day, the groups entered the private chamber of the Library and after getting comfortable begun in earnest and reverent calm, their meditation on the void. Silence prevailed throughout the day; the room was so quiet in fact that you could hear a pin drop. But as darkness encroached and the room grew dim, one of the four stirred, and then before he could stop himself, words just flew from his mouth, ordering the nearby attendant to “Light the blasted oil lamp!”

The closest one to him could not suppress a grumble:” Hush up, you’re not supposed to speak!”

“You two have blown it.” The third one chimed in.

“I’m the only one who has kept quiet.” Unfortunately the fourth one could not refrain from boasting.

Fini