SELECTIONS TRANSLATED BY THOMAS MERTON
When life was full
there was no history
In the age when life on earth was full, no one paid any
special attention to worthy men, nor did they single out the man of ability.
Rulers were simply the highest branches on the tree, and the people were like
deer in the woods. They were honest and righteous without realizing that they
were “doing their duty”. They loved each other and did not know that this was
“love of neighbour”. They deceived no one yet they did not know that they were
“men to be trusted”. They were reliable and did not know that this was “good
faith”. They lived freely together giving and taking, and did not know that
they were generous. For this reason their deeds have not been narrated. They
made no history.
The fighting cock
Chi Hsing Tzu was a trainer of fighting cocks
For King Hsuan.
He was training a fine bird.
The King kept asking if the bird were
Ready for combat.
“Not yet”, said the trainer.
“He is full of fire.
He is ready to pick a fight
With every other bird. He is vain and confident
Of his own strength.”
After ten days, he answered again:
“Not yet. He flares up
When he hears another bird crow.”
After ten more days:
“Not yet. He still gets
That angry look
And ruffles his feathers.”
Again ten days:
The trainer said, “Now he is nearly ready.
When another bird crows, his eye
Does not even flicker.
He stands immobile
Like a cock of wood.
He is a mature fighter.
Other birds
Will take one look at him
And run.”
The man with one foot
and the marsh pheasant
King Wen Hsien saw a maimed official
Whose left foot had been cut off –
A penalty in the political game!
“What kind of man,” he cried, “is this one-footed oddity?
How did he get that way? Shall we say
Man did this, or heaven?”
“Heaven,” he said, “this comes from
Heaven, not from man.
When heaven gave this man life, it willed
He should stand out from others
And sent him into politics
To get himself distinguished.
See! One foot! This man is different.”
The little
marsh pheasant
Must hop ten
times
To get a bite
of grain.
She must run
a hundred steps
Before she
takes a sip of water.
Yet she does
not ask
To be kept in
a hen run
Though she
might have all she desired
Set before
her.
She would
rather run
And seek her
own little living
Uncaged.
The need to win
When an
archer is shooting for nothing
He has all
his skill.
If he shoots
for a brass buckle
He is already
nervous.
If he shoots
for a prize of gold
He goes blind
Or sees two
targets –
He is out of
his mind!
His skill has
not changed. But the prize
Divides him.
He cares.
He thinks
more of winning
Than of
shooting –
And the need
to win
Drains him of
power.
Cutting up an ox
Prince Wen
Hui’s cook
Was cutting
up an ox.
Out went a
hand,
Down went a
shoulder
He planted a
foot,
He pressed
with a knee,
The ox fell
apart
With a
whisper,
The bright
cleaver murmured
Like a gentle
wind.
Rhythm!
Timing!
Like a sacred
dance,
Like “The
Mulberry Grove”,
Like ancient
harmonies!
“Good work! The
Prince exclaimed,
“Your method
is faultless!”
“Method?” said
the cook
Laying aside
his cleaver,
“What I
follow is Tao
Beyond all
methods!
“When I first
began
To cut up
oxen
I would see
before me
The whole ox
All in one
mass.
After three
years
I no longer
saw this mass.
I saw the
distinctions.
“But now, I
see nothing
With the eye.
My whole being
Apprehends.
My senses are
idle. The spirit
Free to work
without plan
Follows its
own instinct
Guided by
natural line,
By the secret
opening, the hidden space,
My cleaver
finds its own way.
I cut through
no joint, chop no bone.
“A good cook
needs a new chopper
Once a year –
he cuts.
A poor cook
needs a new one
Every month –
he hacks!
“I have used
this same cleaver
Nineteen
years
It has cut up
A thousand
oxen.
Its edge is
as keen
As if newly
sharpened.
“There are
spaces in the joints;
The blade is
thin and keen:
When this
thinness
Finds that
space
There is all
the room you need!
It goes like
a breeze!
Hence I have
this cleaver nineteen years
As if newly
sharpened!
“True, there
are sometimes
Tough joints.
I feel them coming,
I slow down,
I watch closely,
Hold back,
barely move the blade,
And whump! the
part falls away
Landing like
a clod of earth.
“Then I
withdraw the blade,
I stand still
And let the
joy of the work
Sink in.
I clean the
blade
And put it
away.”
Prince Wan
Hui said,
“This is it!
My cook has shown me
How I ought
to live
My own life!”
