Kung Fu Parables
Tortoise
The Tale of the Tortoise and Kung Fu
by Master Zhou
One day in the month of the Fox, the young novice approached the old kung fu master.
"Master," he cried, "Why do you suffer those touched by the Tortoise to be your students? They are not fast like the Crane, or strong like the Bear, or fierce like the Tiger. They are slow, and seem to care little for fighting. They spend all their days in study, or repeating basic kata. What is their use?"
The master called over one of the novices that was touched by the Tortoise, and he gave instructions to both:
"On the day of the next new moon, you," he said, pointing to the Tortoise, "go to the top of the northern mountain that overlooks our dojo, and you," pointing at the young novice, "go to the top of the southern mountain. Spend the night there, contemplate your path, and return to me and tell me what you have learned."
The two novices bowed to their Master, and did as they were told.
When the young novice returned, the next day, he was battered and bloody, and looked exhausted from his ordeal. He met the master in the dojo, where the Tortoise student already awaited, looking calm and composed.
"Now," the old master said, "spar, and tell me what you learned."
The young novice groaned but did as the master said. Weary as he was, his strikes were sloppy, even wild.
"Master," he panted, "I tried to do what you ask. It took hours, but I found my way to the top of the mountain, although I was hit by falling rocks several times. The night was so cold, though, I had to build a fire, and the prickly thorns of the shrubs bit into my arms as I gathered them. And once the fire was lit, I was beset by wolves! I barely fended them off until dawn, when they left, and then I scrambled my way back down here."
The Tortoise continued his well-executed set of parries and blocks, and, after a nod from the master, began:
"From the task you set for us, I surmised that perhaps you wanted us to understand the benefit of preparation. Knowing that the mountaintop could be a perilous environment, I spoke to the local woodsmen about the dangers there. They advised me that wolves were frequent at this time of year, and that they would be drawn to fire, especially in the cold."
The Tortoise-touched student blocked another wild swing from the young novice.
"I recalled reading in the monastery's library of a pool a few hours to the east that had stones which glowed with a light like moonshine. I journeyed there on our rest day, and gathered some of these stones.
"When I journeyed to the mountaintop, I made sure to have warm clothes and find a spot of relative shelter, and set up a few of the glowing stones at the perimeter of my camp, so that I could see anything that approached. Although I heard wolves howling, they were not drawn to my camp. I stayed guard through the night, and then returned here."
The old master nodded, and watched the novices spar more.
"Sloppy!" he cried at the young novice's blows. "Why can you not strike with more accuracy?"
"I am sorry, Master," the young one replied. "I am weary from my ordeal, and my limbs will not move as I wish them to."
"And you?" the master asked the Tortoise. "Why do your strikes seem to be accurate? Did you sleep before coming here?"
"No, Master. I admit I am also tired. But I have drilled the moves so frequently that my muscles know the arc even though I am weary."
"Very well, then. Show the novice what else you have learned."
"His attacks favor the right, but he does not guard his left side," replied the Tortoise student, as he struck a final solid blow, knocking the young novice down.
As the kung fu master leaned over the young novice, he asked "Now do you see the benefit of the Tortoise as a practitioner of kung fu?"
"Yes, Master," the young novice groaned, as he slid into unconsciousness.
And thus was the young novice englightened.
Bear
The Tale of the Bear and Kung Fu
by Master Zhou
One day the Kung Fu Master was in quiet contemplation in the garden of his dojo, when the novice approached him, irritation on his face, a question upon his lips.
"Master, I do not understand! How can one touched by the Bear ever truly know kung fu? Yes, they are tough, but do they not realize that kung fu is not about _taking_ blows, but about _delivering_ them? And they are so slow to learn! It seems to take them forever before they make progress. Why is it that you teach them?"
The Master, who had often said that the Golden Question which leads to Enlightenment must be asked even if the Fires of Heaven were falling down upon you, did not frown at the buzzing that had interrupted his own thought. Instead, he simply flicked his eyes over to the novice, not even turning his head, and said:
"One has to learn patience."
The hasty novice opened his mouth again to speak, but then stopped, considering that perhaps the Master's words which seemed not to answer him at all would become more clear with time. The Master was often making such offhand comments that did not, at the time, seem to make much sense at all to the novice, but later became more clear. The novice closed his mouth and bowed to the Master, and went away to consider the Master's words.
The novice waited a week before he returned to question the Master again. Again, the Master sat in quiet contemplation in his garden, and again, the novice approached him, his look of irritation turned into a deeper confusion that he was, perhaps, missing something.
"Master, I have thought long about the question I asked you regarding those touched by the Bear, but still I do not understand. Yes, the Bear is strong, but he does not balance it with any grace. Would not he be a better soldier in the Army, guarding one of the Great Walls, than being a practitioner of the Art?"
This time the Master turned his head to look upon the novice and take his measure. He raised his hand, in a signal of firmness that gave the novice pause, and said:
"One has to learn Patience."
The novice, sure that he was missing something, bowed and left, the furrow in his brow even deeper than before.
He waited a whole month before returning to confront the Master again.
This time, when the novice found the Master in deep contemplation, his words spilled forth like a babbling brook.
"Master, I do not understand! I have watched and watched those students touched by the Bear, and it is still as I say! They never take the initiative, they never have the quickness they need to truly strike, they never..."
The Master let the novice's rant proceed, gave the briefest sigh of resignation, and took in a breath that seemed to cause him to expand and sit up more straight.
"One has not Learned Patience."
And with this the Master turned the full weight of his attention on the novice, and with a single motion stood to his full height and drew back his hand. No longer a gesture of restraint, his hand was now a fist that seemed chiseled from stone, rooted deep within the earth, with all the inevitability of a mountain and all the force of an avalanche.
When fist made contact with chest, the sound of a great crack was followed by a rising wind and a sullen thud. The novice had flown until his back had struck the far wall of the garden. As the novice slid down to the ground, he noticed that the Master had returned to sitting, all signs of irritation, or even exertion, gone. As his sight darkened and wavered, he thought that the Master had returned to the exact same position of quiet contemplation that he was in before the novice had entered the garden.
"That is the Way of the Bear."
And thus the novice, just before he slipped into unconsciousness, was enlightened.
Butterfly
The Novice and the Dancer
by Master Zhou
One summer, the kung fu master noticed there was discord among the novices. Where there had been focus, there was inattention; where stamina, exhaustion; where teamwork, dissension. And so, on that day, the unheard of occurred: the master declared that his students would be given three days off from their usual training, and instructed them to travel to the nearby city. On the Day of the Butterfly, Fei Liang, one of the great dancers of the region, would be performing. The master told his students to rest and relax, but not to miss her performance.
All of the novices were grateful for the unexpected rest, but some regarded the master's instructions with confusion. A dancer? Why would the master think that was important? One particular novice, perhaps marred by exhaustion, grumbled the whole way to the city. He had come to train, to learn the martial arts, not to watch silly dancers.
He was obedient, however, and attended the performance, in the Hall of Harmonious Delight. The attendants at the front door recognized the novices as belonging to the monastery, and said that, due to the respect that Fei Liang had for the master and the art, they were instructed to offer a prime location to the novices for three zhu, rather than the customary two li. This further incensed the novice-- two li! To watch a dance! Three zhu was bad enough! The attendants frowned at first, before nodding and bowing to the novice, saying that they understood it was a sacrifice, but that Fei Liang hoped most sincerely that all who attended would find her performance worthy of the time and effort spent to attend. The other students glanced at him, wondering what he would do, but the novice seemed mollified by the attendants' humility, and dropped his three zhu on the ground for them, striding into the Hall and muttering to himself.
Inside, the students were shown to an area near the raised platform that was to be used as a stage. The Hall was almost full, and the excitement in the crowd was palpable. People from near and far had journeyed to see Fei Liang, and even those in seats furthest from the stage, the commoners, had dressed in their finest clothes. The nobility, not far from where the students were, seemed to be in a state of reverence, waiting for Fei Liang to appear. Being among the crowd with so many people talking of how wonderful Fei Liang was only intensified the novice's ire. He complained to others that this was a waste of time, and that he was regretting spending his money on such trifles. This garnered the novices some odd looks, and an attendant began walking their way. The novice noticed and drew himself up, ready to tell the attendant what he thought in no uncertain terms.
Before the student could do anything, however, a hush fell over the crowd, and the attendant bowed to the stage and remained motionless. The student turned, and there, in a pillar of light, was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Fei Liang stood, poised and motionless, in a simple outfit of black and white. In one hand was an open fan; in the other, a lotus blossom of almost iridiscent pink. She stood for an indeterminate amount of time-- not a whisper or murmur among the crowd. Her eyes flicked across the audience, and seemed to linger on the novice. He held his breath. And then, she began to move.
Fei Liang's skill and talent were said to be unrivaled, and that night she shone. Her movements were graceful, perfect, precise. Body, mind, and soul merged in one. She spoke to the audience in a language that they knew and did not know, and no one was unmoved. When her dance was complete, another perfect silence settled over the crowd-- until an overwhelming cry of acclaim erupted, engulfing the Hall. The cry broke the novice's reverie, and he once again grew discomfited, and stormed out, telling his companions he would be at the bar across the plaza from the Hall.
When the other students arrived, they found the novice had already drunk one large cup of baijiu, and had begun his second. A cloud seemed to hang over him, and the other students gave him a wide berth. After another cup, the novice heard a familiar voice from one corner of the bar.
Slightly inebriated, the novice got up from his chair and walked, cup in hand, to find the Master in a secluded corner table, speaking with Fei Liang. The novice's eyes narrowed. "You said... why are you here?"
The master regarded the novice coolly, tilting his head before turning back to Fei Liang. "Please pardon the interruption. My student has journeyed far, and no doubt that and the luminosity of your performance has unsettled him." Returning to the novice, he continued, "I, too, enjoy an occasional respite from training. Tell me, what did you think of Fei Liang's performance this evening?"
The novice did not look at either of them as he muttered under his breath "I came to learn to fight. This was just a waste of time." The novice heard a sharp intake of breath and prepared himself for a mighty blow, but none came. A glance at the master showed the cold fury that had settled into his face-- and a delicate hand on his shoulder, pausing him from pulling back his arm to strike. Fei Liang, a small, sad smile on her face, spoke.
"I am most regretful that you did not find my performance worthy this evening. I strive to show that training one's body to the highest pinnacle need not be done solely in the realm of the martial arts. Although I believe the distance between the art of dance and the art of kung fu is not as great as one might think. It always seemed to me that the keen observer could see the ways in which they overlap."
The novice let out a loud, derisive laugh that caused nearby eyes to turn to see what was going on. "Dance, like kung fu? You don't know anything about it!"
A hush fell over the whole bar as the master was suddenly standing over the younger man, two fingers at the side of the novice's neck speaking death in their silence. "An apology. Now." said the master. But Fei Liang gracefully stood, unperturbed. "The fault is mine. I am not as skilled a teacher, and I have clearly not demonstrated what I mean to help your student understand. Please, allow me."
And with that Fei Liang drew the novice out of his chair and to a space that moments before had seemed crowded, but now was empty of all people and furniture.
The novice was too overwhelmed-- whether by fear or awe or something else entirely he could not truly say-- to do anything but comply and stand dumbly in the cleared space. All eyes were truly on him now. Fei Liang struck a pose from her dance.
"See, how the raised arm is like the beginning of the third kata to strike. But where the third kata sends force through the target, to wound, the Unfurling Willow is an invitation to one's partner."
Fei Liang's raised arm extended towards the novice so gracefully that he was mesmerized, unable to take his eyes off of her outstretched hand. An invitation, from a beautiful woman, in front of all these staring eyes... He did not move. The small, sad smile returned to Fei Liang's face as she resumed her pose.
"See again, the grace of the willow branch. And see too what strength lies within that grace."
And again, the raised arm extended, with such grace that the novice's eyes could not be averted. This time, however, there was no invitation to dance, no offering of peace. There was a beauty unmatchable, unavoidable, and although he saw the danger and every ounce of his training compelled him to parry, to dodge, to BE SOMEWHERE ELSE, there was nothing he could do but watch. The dancer's arm was delicate to look at, but had been hardened by training that began at the age of four, honed to be the perfect instrument of beautiful motion. As the novice crumpled to the floor under the precisely choreographed blow, he realized that beauty could be a weapon of its own.
And thus the novice was enlightened.
