Water
Today's exercise is water. And for some reason, this combined with the exercise a couple day's back of "Wings" made me think of Captain Planet. As in, "Earth! Fire! Wings, er Wind! Water! Heart!" In any case...
"What is the hardest substance on earth, and what is the softest substance?"
"Rock is the hardest substance, and water is the softest."
"Yet, water, the softest substance, can wear a hole in the hardest substance, rock. It only takes time, but it will eventually succeed."
I remembered my lessons from my grandfather, a Taoist to the end of his days. I remember sitting on his knee as he explained to me the principles of the Tao, as he showed me pages from the Tao Te Ching. Most of what he said was beyond me, but I trusted him, and now that I look back, I find a solid core in his teachings. And I miss him still, but I remember the story he told me of the man whose son died.
There was once a man whose son died in his youth. After the funeral, the neighbors were astounded to find the man perfectly cheerful, and going about his business as if nothing had happened. "What's wrong with you," they asked. "Don't you feel anything for your son?"
"It is true that my son is dead," he replied. "But before he was born, I had no son, and I was fine. Now I again have no son, so why should I not still be fine?"
I was never able to reach that same state of ease, that same peace. I still wake up, remembering him in his last moments, as he pushed me out of the way of the car that then came for him.
256 words. Okay, I guess. I didn't make up the story about the man whose son died; it's from the teachings of Lie Zi, another important Taoist (but less famous than Lao Zi).
"What is the hardest substance on earth, and what is the softest substance?"
"Rock is the hardest substance, and water is the softest."
"Yet, water, the softest substance, can wear a hole in the hardest substance, rock. It only takes time, but it will eventually succeed."
I remembered my lessons from my grandfather, a Taoist to the end of his days. I remember sitting on his knee as he explained to me the principles of the Tao, as he showed me pages from the Tao Te Ching. Most of what he said was beyond me, but I trusted him, and now that I look back, I find a solid core in his teachings. And I miss him still, but I remember the story he told me of the man whose son died.
There was once a man whose son died in his youth. After the funeral, the neighbors were astounded to find the man perfectly cheerful, and going about his business as if nothing had happened. "What's wrong with you," they asked. "Don't you feel anything for your son?"
"It is true that my son is dead," he replied. "But before he was born, I had no son, and I was fine. Now I again have no son, so why should I not still be fine?"
I was never able to reach that same state of ease, that same peace. I still wake up, remembering him in his last moments, as he pushed me out of the way of the car that then came for him.
256 words. Okay, I guess. I didn't make up the story about the man whose son died; it's from the teachings of Lie Zi, another important Taoist (but less famous than Lao Zi).
posted by Selene at 6:06 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home