Finding The Way

by Ng, Wayne;

  Perhaps it was because his journey was less arduous and he was more coddled than I, that I could not warm to him entirely. Was it envy? Would I have exchanged places with him? True, there were many nights I longed for a greater audience for my thoughts. But now it was he who had come to me.

  I showed him around the garden, then the Archives and what was becoming a very presentable collection. We sat to rest and awaited tea as our discussion inevitably moved on to our core beliefs.

  He was particularly interested in discussing ancestor worship, music, rituals, social hierarchies and ceremonies, believing them to be keys to stability and continuity in the world. He said there were two poles that balanced order and harmony—ceremonies and music. While social ceremonies reinforced necessary social hierarchies, music unified all hearts in shared enjoyment. They were both embedded within our social world and reinforced in our relationships, as are the five pillars: between father and son, husband and wife, prince and subject, elder and younger, and between friends.

  I had heard and read all this before. As I expected, he continued to speak of duties and how they had to be balanced, and how a subject had to obey his ruler.

  “But one also has to be able to tell one’s ruler when he is wrong,” I countered..

  “This will not be necessary, Master Lao Tzu. Our rulers will provide good government by providing an example for the people to follow. They will show good character, they will be humane and righteous and provide necessary structures. Humanity needs to be trained and controlled through the strict observation of social rules, rules set forth by our leaders and replicated within families. This is the foundation of order and stability. These are not new ideas. They have been germinating for some time, primarily among the many splinter states.”

  Just then, as if to contradict Confucius’ point, a squad of Royal Guardsmen entered the Archives and began searching the rooms. I remained nonplussed while Confucius shifted uneasily in his seat.

  “Some time ago, General Wu ordered regular searches throughout the Palace,” I explained. “Apparently spies and dissidents lurk everywhere, even among these centuries-old tablets. The searches are more a show of authority than a real security measure. Nothing or no one has ever been found, at least not since I have been here. But it is a type of controlled agitation that is as perverted and futile as rammed earth walls in keeping out fresh ideas and locking in old ones.”

  “People need order and good governance, Master Lao Tzu.”

  “Agreed, but it needn’t be an artificial order, nor should we equate nobility and rank with virtue and moral superiority.”

  “But neither can we assume the ordinary man can both lead and be led without guiding examples.”

  As my guest, I could not tell him directly that his beliefs were misguided. But I did ask how he expected peasant farmers to enjoy music, the elixir of the elite? To this, he did not reply. Evidently he had forgotten what it was to eat spoiled food, or to not eat at all. And I have yet to meet a nobleman, let alone a Royal, save Prince Meng, who would allow an underling to tell them when they were wrong.

  “Perhaps our differences are mere semantics, Master Scholar. For your notion of simplicity and mine of following a social order are not mutually exclusive. If people know their place in the order of the world, it is an uncomplicated existence. Amongst themselves, people may practice and believe whatever they choose so long as they do not disrupt the necessary stability.”

  “That is an interesting notion, but I have yet to see an order that allows such a choice. People bend best with the wind, not the whip. People are happiest when the simplicity of the heart leads to spontaneity and to balance. And so my path finds resonance among those who lead uncluttered lives, unlike many who dwell among the elite.”

  Kao Shin interrupted us with a tray of licorice tea and cakes. I nodded my appreciation.

  “Your servant pours us tea. I would say he knows his place, would you not agree, Master Lao Tzu?”

  “He was found begging and stealing on the streets,” I replied. “He was good at neither.” Kao Shin flashed an easy smile. “He never knew his parents. Unlike most of those living hand-to-mouth on the streets, he possessed a stillness in his actions, a scarcity of movement, and so I took him in. He has learned to read three hundred characters and shows much promise with a writing brush. Yes, he knows his place, and it is wherever he chooses. He can leave here any time he wishes, for he is no servant. Within the Archives, there are no servants in the manner you infer. We each have our respective roles and duties, but none among us eats more than the other. Although I must admit he is the most devoted person on my staff.”

  “How just and reasonable it appears to be. And yet you find yourself in a privileged setting, in the spiritual capital of the world, in the Palace of the Son of Heaven. While your work here at the Archives is timeless, it is hardly uncluttered or natural. And the Royal Family, can you truly say they are models of the natural spirit?”

  It was an obvious contradiction. I explained that at first, I had hoped the Archives would provide salvation for myself after the tragedy that beset my Academy, and that I could rise from my despair and derive some redemption in such work. I revealed that my hopes lay not only in the dusty collection, but also in Prince Meng finding the Way.

  “I do not distinguish between myself and other people in the world, regardless of whether they are of noble or humble stock. One must live in harmony with the world. And one’s mind is the world’s mind. So I nurture the minds of the world where I can, as a father does his children, but not as a ruler does his subjects. Because the latter is based on coercion not benevolence. I believe Prince Meng is not of this ilk.”

  “But Prince Chao is?”

  He was unexpectedly direct, but then again, I had just disclosed my stake in Prince Meng.

  “There is a necessary balance in Nature, a contractive force, and an expansive force. Together they form a continuous cycle of creation and destruction. These are the true poles of all existence, not rituals and music. This balance is no different among men. The Way believes that opposites help us to see the relationships of reality. Without knowing light, you cannot possibly know dark. The Way functions with the understanding that one cannot know what is good without knowing what is bad. All life forces tend to move toward harmony and balance. We are all part of an inseparable whole.”

  “You mean to say that Prince Chao’s potential for destructiveness is a necessary balance to Prince Meng’s desire to create? Forgive my forwardness,” he continued. “I think we can agree that we share a common hope that the path to our respective vision lies through enlightened rulers.”

  Though I never would have thought such a route was necessary, Confucius was correct. In chaotic times, social change on a wide scale could not be possible without visible leadership. Individual beliefs, however refined, would be to no avail. I needed Prince Meng.

  My silence was finally interrupted when Confucius laid his hand on mine and grinned.

  “Did I not say that heaven alone knows us?”

  When we retired early the following morning, I found my way to bed and pondered my first audience with Confucius. As a teacher, he had few equals. But as a student, he was unsurpassed. He absorbed everything I said, challenging my thoughts further without any disrespect. We talked through the night and agreed we had only just begun. My weary body was many li behind my excited mind, although I should have felt comfort knowing that Confucius and I shared some ideals. We stood together for peace and benevolence in and for all, though he would say such goodness was built on a social, and I on a natural foundation. I had found someone not unlike myself, a self-trained scholar of humble origins, an intellectual equivalent, a visionary if you will. Yet it did not give me the ease I had anticipated and sleep evaded me.

  ******

  I arranged for Confucius to stay in a small guest house in the Gongyi, a modest district
near the Palace favored by minor officials and traveling bureaucrats. I released Kao Shin to be at his disposal for inspections of the Archives as well as of Chengzhou itself. It turned out to be unnecessary, as Confucius had numerous seals of references and was able to call upon several nobles. One of them was a favorite of Prince Chao, who offered up one of his residences to Confucius.

  I also made arrangements for him to have a quiet audience with Prince Meng in his private chambers but Confucius, seeing that the Qing Ming festival was approaching, insisted on deferring it until later. He felt there was no more important a date on the calendar than the day on which ancestors and tradition are honored. I was not surprised by this. His views on the power derived from familial rituals spoke to his love of tradition and continuity, and the festival reflected this more than any other celebration.

  The custom is said to have originated when corrupt men wanted the Duke of Jin’s eldest son Chong’er assassinated. Jie Zitui, Chong’er’s loyal servant, dressed his master in peasant’s clothing and smuggled him out in the middle of the night. Because Chong’er had shown much concern for his people, Jie cared for and protected him as befit a future King who would be a benevolent and dutiful ruler. Once, when they were on the edge of starvation, Jie cut off a piece of his own flesh and cooked it for his master. Many years later, Chong’er finally became King of Jin and rewarded those who had assisted him during his exile. But he forgot his most loyal servant, Jie. When reminded of this, the new King immediately sent for Jie. But Jie had felt betrayed and had fled with his mother to the mountains to live as a hermit. So hidden was Jie’s hermit refuge that the King and all his men could not find them. But someone suggested that to find him, they set fire to the mountain, because Jie would not allow his mother to be in danger. The fire burnt for three days and nights, but still Jie did not appear. After the fire had completely scorched the mountain, they found Jie and his mother under a smoldering willow tree, burnt to death. So heartbroken and sorrowful was the King that he declared that each year on that day, no one was to use fire and everyone had to eat cold food to honor Jie’s loyalty. All graves of ancestors were to be swept and cleaned. Families would make offerings of cold meat and fruit to the guardian spirit of the graves, followed by incense offerings to their ancestors.

  That the festival originated from Jin territory, one of the breakaway regions, yet was also practiced by the Zhou house was most ironic. Perhaps previous generations of the Zhou house saw it more as homage to loyalty and allegiance, things they felt little of as time went on.

  Following the festival, I waited for Confucius in the garden, which had just undergone a small expansion. I had dug a third but smaller pond that connected to the original with a narrow footbridge. Grey flagstones and fine pebbles weaved in and around newly-planted bushes and trees. Plants foreign to the region that had proved hardy beside the vegetable garden were transplanted around a raised pagoda. Within that, stone benches provided reflective views of every angle of the garden.

  “Is Master Lao Tzu lost or found in this oasis of quietude he has created?”

  I turned at the now-familiar sound of Confucius’ voice. “I am neither, Master Confucius. To be either lost or found is to imply that I am unsettled, disquieted. Quite the contrary, my friend.”

  “Yet this solitude clearly gives forth a natural remedy,” Confucius replied.

  “Indeed, but I have not constructed it as a retreat of water, stone and wood with the brushes of the air and wind. The Way begets all things. Harmony nurtures them. Nature shapes them. Our use completes them. Each follows the Way and honors harmony. Not by law, but by being. The Way bears, nurtures, shapes, completes, shelters, comforts, and makes a home for them. Bearing without possessing, nurturing without taming, shaping without forcing: this is the harmony I revel in. One cannot construct that which is unbuildable. I could no more shape the winds than I could hold water.”

  Confucius smiled. “It is pleasing to see a fellow scholar content, or should I say harmonious and not merely preoccupied?”

  I returned his smile. “I confess that doubts I once harbored have retreated. I have learned that he who conquers others is strong, but he who conquers himself is mighty. When neither you nor your demons can do harm, you will be at peace with them. And perhaps this oasis serves to embody this harmony. I possess purpose, yet I also possess an acceptance that things will follow their own natural course.”

  “You speak of our Royal Princes?” he asked.

  I hadn’t wanted to refer to the quarrelling Princes, but the whispers were loud and unavoidable once inside the Palace walls. I chose to defer answering his query, and instead reminded him that Prince Meng was expecting us. I led Confucius along to the Prince’s quarters.

  “It is with the highest moral standard that we must all model and lead,” Confucius said. “The ancients understood this. Their rulers and their followers lived within a code. It was a balm that bound them to immortality.”

  I could barely contain my smile. “The ancients did not seek to rule people with knowledge. Instead they sought to help them become unencumbered. It is difficult for knowledgeable people to attain this by contrived means. To use laws to control a nation weakens the nation. But to use Nature to control a nation strengthens the nation. To understand these two paths is to understand subtlety. Subtlety runs deep, ranges wide, resolves confusion and preserves peace.”

  “I wonder if there is much of an audience for such preachings here, Master Lao Tzu. The Zhou royal house, however troubled, and all the other clans, possess the promise, indeed the hope, of order, of good government and of a just society. Even amidst the endless wars, only our leaders can provide a foundation and purpose.”

  I stopped. “You misread me, Master Confucius. I do not preach, nor do I counsel. He who understands does not preach. You must reserve your judgments and words. One must accept the world rather than try to regiment it. We must choose when and how to direct our teachings. There are those who will pick words ripe for their occasion and ply them to their advantage.”

  “A fool despises good counsel, but a wise man takes it to heart,” he countered, then added: “It is understood that Prince Meng makes time for your wisdom.”

  “Prince Meng seeks a contentment that he does not know he already possesses. I merely assist him in refining his focus so that he will be able to see clearer. Having said that, as we enter the inner Palace, I implore you to conduct yourself even more solemnly than you have with previous noblemen and rulers.”

  I had not previously attended to the Prince’s outer chamber and was surprised to see how lavishly decorated it was. Intricately painted beams criss-crossed the ceiling, and the most resplendent furnishings I had seen in the Palace lay before me. But the most stunning objects were two enormous bronze vessels, each with a pair of animal eyes projecting from the bronze surface staring at the viewer with a bewitching force. These protruding eyes, from some imaginary or mystical beasts, were the eyes of fierce predators. They were unsettling at first, although I recognized some of the craftsmanship and guessed them to be perhaps seven hundred years old. Needless to say, it was in contrast with my expectation that his surroundings would reflect the simplicity and austerity he longed for.

  We stepped inside his chamber and his personal attendant directed us onto our knees in front of the Prince. I introduced my guest to the Prince, who was far more formal and curt than I had been accustomed to in his presence. No doubt Confucius’ presence demanded this. He queried Confucius about his travels, the lands and courts he had visited, and the people he’d spoken with.

  I admired Prince Meng’s curiosity and also quietly relished his bluntness with Confucius.

  “I have heard that you assume one’s station in life automatically destines one’s role, that duty and virtue guides us all, and that family ties alone would bind people. These are idealized notions, fraught with the pitfalls of reality.”

  “You
r Highness, the reality you speak of is indeed creviced. But to leave it so would doom our world to the instability and upheaval that surrounds us. I believe we must reflect the good and the virtue that is within us. How else can people see otherwise?”

  “And suppose people do not value virtue as they should?” the Prince responded. “Suppose their notion of good does not reconcile with our own? You want order though many people lack such a choice. For those with such a choice, it is often impeded by those with divergent interests.”

  In the face of such an admonishment, Confucius was silent, and after the necessary formalities, we left Prince Meng. As I returned to my chambers, I wondered how the rest of the court would receive him. I felt an obligation to oversee and host his visit, though I both feared and anticipated the King and Prince Chao mocking and chastising him as they did most scholars.

  13

  The Royal Hunt

  Given that Confucius courted my views so soon after he first arrived, I was somewhat surprised when we subsequently met with less frequency. My introduction of him to the rest of the court was understated, generating little response except from Prince Chao. The Prince queried him about governance practices in other regions, but then soon dismissed him. Soon after, in the autumn of that year, the King and Prince Chao decided that in keeping with their continuing desire to re-establish a credible Royal presence, they would resurrect the Royal hunt in all its grandeur. For generations it had been an event largely confined to members of the Royal Family and its entourage, lacking the scale and pomp of their ancestors’ times. Once, when the Zhou dynasty stood for something, the hunt was a vital component of the political and social culture. Royalty and nobility would assert their elite status, the hunts doubling in function as inspection tours of not only the military, but of the entire countryside.