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TURNING POINT
“In each of our lives, there comes a point where we feel compelled to take a different path. Our age and past experience does not represent a barrier, but we must be willing to open our eyes and accept change” P.I.B.
I felt an inner peace as I waited for the master to enter the room. He had chosen the ideal place for this ceremony. The simple but tasteful building looked out over a well tended garden. Everything seemed to be in its place as I looked out upon an area of carefully raked sand with a large stone in the middle of it. Behind that was a small stream with a red wooden bridge and the sound of water could be heard as it flowed gently over some moss covered rocks. Time seemed to stand still here, a great departure from my everyday life of hard work and training.
I have to admit that I would not have made this visit if my father had not insisted. He is a wise man and I always take his council. My father has taught me well. He has raised me in the proud tradition of the Samurai. I was born into a noble class of people. I have always been aware of the respect that ordinary people showed my father. Heads bowed and people moved out of his way as he walked, with his ever present swords at his waist. Honor and service were his guiding principles.
From an early age I studied the art of the sword, of the bow, and empty hand combat. I learned that power came from strength and the ability to take a life. I had pledged my life, as my father had, to the service of our master. I would willingly fight and even die in his service. (samurai. meaning “to serve”) This was the way of the samurai.
I must admit that for the first time I had questioned my father’s wisdom. I did not understand how watching an old man prepare tea could help in my martial training. Now that I am of the age to go to battle, this was to be my final lesson. My father had told me that this man had been sought out by many samurai and was invited by the emperor himself to perform the ancient ceremony. To be honest, I did not show the proper courtesy to the master. I sat in front of him stiffly, with my arms crossed in protest of being there.
The master soon entered the room and with no emotion or wasted movement, he began his well practiced ritual, the tea ceremony. I watched with great interest as the old man prepared the tea, with his exacting and deliberate movements and total focus. It was like poetry to watch as he carefully laid the ladle down and whisked the powered tea with a flourishing movement. I noticed that he handled his tools with the same reverence that I handle my swords. He set the cup of tea on the mat in front of me as he slowly and purposely turned the cup so that the inscription would face me, his guest.
When he was finished with the ritual, he looked me in the eyes and told me that there was more than one path. When he was a young man he too only knew of killing, but many years ago he discovered that there was another way to serve, to achieve excellence, and to find purpose. He discovered that the sword was not the only way. A samurai had once spared his life in battle, and afterward he changed the direction and purpose of his life.
After that day, I had proudly fought in many battles. Both my long and my short sword had been wet with blood on many occasions. My strength and skill as a warrior had multiplied, and my courage was known to all. I took no joy in killing, nor did I ever sense any remorse. I had always fought with honor and courage; it is the code of bushido, the way of the samurai.
After many conflicts and years of victory on the battle field, I was to at last taste defeat. During my charge on horseback an arrow found its way past my shield and armor and lodged into my side. It seems that my horse had met with a similar fate and as he buckled and fell under my weight, I was thrown to the ground. For a moment I saw darkness but my instincts took over. My katana had been thrown clear, but I reached for my short sword. It was at this moment that my remaining weapon was thrown from my hand by the force of a mighty blow from a fearsome opponent. I looked up from my back to face my assailant, with a mixture of dirt and my own blood in my eyes.
My worthy opponent was standing over me, he stood on my chest and was ready to run me through with his sword. With my free hand I loosened my helmet and invited him to end my life with honor. It seemed like all the noise and furry of battle had stopped for that brief moment as I viewed his gleaming sword held high above me and reflecting the sun.
I had found myself in his position many times and would not deny a fellow samurai the right to die with dignity. It was at that moment that I recited a short haiku ( a brief poem, of strict construction), and awaited my fate.
It seems that my haiku had amused my opponent and his sword hesitated. He looked at me for a moment and then with one fluid movement he shook the blood from his sword, returned it to its sheath and turned away. As he turned to rejoin the battle he said to me. There is another path, the sword is not the only way. A great tea master once told me that a great warrior will sometimes spare a life, and not always take one. I’m not sure if it was luck or fate but my life had been spared by a warrior greater than me.
I laid there for a while, contemplating what had just happened to me. Had I shown fear, had I failed to accept death at the hands of my enemy? If so, I had disgraced my master, myself, and my family. I knew that the honorable thing to do would be to take my own life, but I was too weak. I soon passed out from the loss of blood.
I had awakened many hours latter and the fury of the battle had passed me by. I staggered to my feet and found my way past the remnants of the mighty battle. The fullness of the moon had shown me the way past many dead bodies of man and beast and back out of the battlefield.
Several months later when I had healed, I again visited the tea master. This time I came before him as a more enlightened man and a humble student. There would be time for war and battles later, for now I was open to following a new path.
Please feel free to contact me at: pooritalianboy@gmail.com
P.I.B.
“In each of our lives, there comes a point where we feel compelled to take a different path. Our age and past experience does not represent a barrier, but we must be willing to open our eyes and accept change” P.I.B.
I felt an inner peace as I waited for the master to enter the room. He had chosen the ideal place for this ceremony. The simple but tasteful building looked out over a well tended garden. Everything seemed to be in its place as I looked out upon an area of carefully raked sand with a large stone in the middle of it. Behind that was a small stream with a red wooden bridge and the sound of water could be heard as it flowed gently over some moss covered rocks. Time seemed to stand still here, a great departure from my everyday life of hard work and training.
I have to admit that I would not have made this visit if my father had not insisted. He is a wise man and I always take his council. My father has taught me well. He has raised me in the proud tradition of the Samurai. I was born into a noble class of people. I have always been aware of the respect that ordinary people showed my father. Heads bowed and people moved out of his way as he walked, with his ever present swords at his waist. Honor and service were his guiding principles.
From an early age I studied the art of the sword, of the bow, and empty hand combat. I learned that power came from strength and the ability to take a life. I had pledged my life, as my father had, to the service of our master. I would willingly fight and even die in his service. (samurai. meaning “to serve”) This was the way of the samurai.
I must admit that for the first time I had questioned my father’s wisdom. I did not understand how watching an old man prepare tea could help in my martial training. Now that I am of the age to go to battle, this was to be my final lesson. My father had told me that this man had been sought out by many samurai and was invited by the emperor himself to perform the ancient ceremony. To be honest, I did not show the proper courtesy to the master. I sat in front of him stiffly, with my arms crossed in protest of being there.
The master soon entered the room and with no emotion or wasted movement, he began his well practiced ritual, the tea ceremony. I watched with great interest as the old man prepared the tea, with his exacting and deliberate movements and total focus. It was like poetry to watch as he carefully laid the ladle down and whisked the powered tea with a flourishing movement. I noticed that he handled his tools with the same reverence that I handle my swords. He set the cup of tea on the mat in front of me as he slowly and purposely turned the cup so that the inscription would face me, his guest.
When he was finished with the ritual, he looked me in the eyes and told me that there was more than one path. When he was a young man he too only knew of killing, but many years ago he discovered that there was another way to serve, to achieve excellence, and to find purpose. He discovered that the sword was not the only way. A samurai had once spared his life in battle, and afterward he changed the direction and purpose of his life.
After that day, I had proudly fought in many battles. Both my long and my short sword had been wet with blood on many occasions. My strength and skill as a warrior had multiplied, and my courage was known to all. I took no joy in killing, nor did I ever sense any remorse. I had always fought with honor and courage; it is the code of bushido, the way of the samurai.
After many conflicts and years of victory on the battle field, I was to at last taste defeat. During my charge on horseback an arrow found its way past my shield and armor and lodged into my side. It seems that my horse had met with a similar fate and as he buckled and fell under my weight, I was thrown to the ground. For a moment I saw darkness but my instincts took over. My katana had been thrown clear, but I reached for my short sword. It was at this moment that my remaining weapon was thrown from my hand by the force of a mighty blow from a fearsome opponent. I looked up from my back to face my assailant, with a mixture of dirt and my own blood in my eyes.
My worthy opponent was standing over me, he stood on my chest and was ready to run me through with his sword. With my free hand I loosened my helmet and invited him to end my life with honor. It seemed like all the noise and furry of battle had stopped for that brief moment as I viewed his gleaming sword held high above me and reflecting the sun.
I had found myself in his position many times and would not deny a fellow samurai the right to die with dignity. It was at that moment that I recited a short haiku ( a brief poem, of strict construction), and awaited my fate.
It seems that my haiku had amused my opponent and his sword hesitated. He looked at me for a moment and then with one fluid movement he shook the blood from his sword, returned it to its sheath and turned away. As he turned to rejoin the battle he said to me. There is another path, the sword is not the only way. A great tea master once told me that a great warrior will sometimes spare a life, and not always take one. I’m not sure if it was luck or fate but my life had been spared by a warrior greater than me.
I laid there for a while, contemplating what had just happened to me. Had I shown fear, had I failed to accept death at the hands of my enemy? If so, I had disgraced my master, myself, and my family. I knew that the honorable thing to do would be to take my own life, but I was too weak. I soon passed out from the loss of blood.
I had awakened many hours latter and the fury of the battle had passed me by. I staggered to my feet and found my way past the remnants of the mighty battle. The fullness of the moon had shown me the way past many dead bodies of man and beast and back out of the battlefield.
Several months later when I had healed, I again visited the tea master. This time I came before him as a more enlightened man and a humble student. There would be time for war and battles later, for now I was open to following a new path.
Please feel free to contact me at: pooritalianboy@gmail.com
P.I.B.
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