Tales of Ancient Wisdom: The Adventures of Zin
Copyright © 2010 Aaron Hoopes.
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ISBN 978-0-9743247-1-5
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Tales of Ancient Wisdom: The Adventures of Zin
by Aaron Hoopes
Illustrations by Aya Itagaki
Table of Contents
Zintroduction – message from the author
Zinn – Zin stops at the Seki Inn
Zinvolved – Zin meets Taro
Zinsufficient – Zin becomes a water-bearer
Zinexperience – Zin practices his martial arts
Zinterlude – Zin goes fishing
Zintegration – Zin travels to the ocean
Zintervention – Zin saves a girl from the river
Zinsight – Zin wonders about the reality of luck
Zintensity – Zin confronts the General
Zinheritance – Zin gives Taro a book
Zindecision – Zin offers the army encouragement
Zinspiration – Zin gives advice to the townsfolk
Zintention – Zin leaves the village with Taro
Zindulgence – Zin tells the story of the Stonecutter.
Zincomplete – Zin’s words to live by.
Zintroduction
The flow of life moves like water, sometimes powerful and majestic like a great river, other times quiet and peaceful like a mountain stream. It can run swift and turbulent or slow to a soft trickle. Occasionally it may gather in a space and create a small pool. Take a moment to close your eyes and visualize a pool like this in front of you. Now imagine dropping a small pebble into it. The surface of the water parts gently sending out ripples in ever-increasing circles to the edge of the pool. The expanding ripples embody the energy created from the pebble being dropped. Now imagine dropping a big rock into it. This time the whole pool is disturbed as the water sloshes aside, splashing everywhere and soaking things.
The ancient wisdom contained in these stories is like the pool. My contribution is dropping the pebble into the pool to create the ripples that allow you to experience the magic of the pool. These tales of ancient wisdom are designed to express some of the universal lessons of the life journey in a simple and profound manner. I have not given long explanations of my own understanding of these stories. That would be like dropping the big rock into the pool. Instead I will let you use your intuition and personal perception to find whatever understanding there is for you. That is the only way to fully internalize the lessons and make them your own.
The characters of the book are my creation. Zin has been brought to life through Aya Itagaki’s incredible artwork. She has given life to this world where Zin embodies the qualities of the wise masters of old. Some of the stories here are my original creations reflecting what I have learned over many years of study. Some of the stories are retellings of tales from long ago and I am merely offering another version of them. This knowledge is timeless and the lessons are ancient. I simply wish to offer it to you in my own sequence of words.
Wishing you much peace,
- Aaron (June, 2010)
No one knew from whence he came
The Wandering Sage, Zin was his name
Appear he did, we know not how
Ancient wisdom, for here and now
Zinn
It was late autumn. The evenings had turned slightly chill and the nights had become a bit breezy. The tall trees of the Jurin forest swayed gently in unison as the Higashi wind caressed them, a scattering of leaves shaking loose with each gust. The occasional hoot of an owl was the only other sound that broke the silence deep within the huge swath of forest that covered this part of the world. The Doro road ran through this part of the forest. It was made of dirt and hard-packed from the horses and carts that traveled it daily. Though the Doro was well-traveled it still gave the feeling of moving through unexplored territory as the forest encroached on either side. Just a bit further along the Doro it opened up into an intersection of five roads that each disappeared off in a different direction into the woods. In the clearing sat an impressive building known as Seki Inn. Seki Inn was built from massive tree logs from the Jurin forest and looked as if it may actually have grown there instead of being built. It was three stories high and had four horse stables and a barn behind it. The inn usually did a brisk business as travelers stopped on their way from the city of Machi in the east to the outer villages. Not many people traveled at night along the Doro. It wasn’t that traveling at night was all that dangerous. It was simply that Seki Inn was a pleasant place to stay and many people came just to sample the hospitality and enjoy the food from the kitchens. Inside, the center of the main room was a huge hearth with a roaring fire that was cracking and shooting sparks into the air. Patrons filled the room, eating, drinking, singing and laughing. The innkeeper, a tall, gentle man smiled at his good fortune. He had another full house. Life was full of happiness.
Late that evening there was a knock at the heavy oak door. The innkeeper opened it to find a lone traveler with dressed in grey robes and a straw hat. A worn walking stick and a small satchel over his shoulder were all his possessions. He was not a young man yet, except for a little gray in his beard, he didn’t appear old either.
“Good evening sir, it is a chill night this evening.” The innkeeper spoke.
“Indeed,” the man replied. “Perhaps I could warm up by your fire.”
“Of course,” the innkeeper stepped aside and motioned him to enter.
The man bowed as he stepped past the innkeeper into the brightly lit room, shaking the cold from his robe. He removed his straw hat. His face was calm and somewhat weather-beaten, the wrinkles around his eyes holding a trace of grit from the Doro. His blue eyes held a bright sparkle in the firelight as he smiled. He gracefully moved through the crowd to the fire and began to warm his body. The innkeeper followed him.
After a few moments the man spoke. “Thank you for the warmth of your fire.”
“With pleasure, sir,” the innkeeper said. “Would you care for some food?”
“That would be most welcome,” the robed man replied.
The innkeeper signaled across the room for food to be brought.
“I must travel a good distance tomorrow, perhaps you could spare a room for the evening.”
The innkeeper frowned. "I’m very sorry, sir, we have a full house tonight. It fills up quickly. We’ve been full since dusk.”
The man nodded and set to eating as the food arrived. “Then I thank you for the meal and will depart when I am done.”
The innkeeper frowned. He didn’t want to turn away this man. “I wish we could accommodate you, sir. The only room we have is the loft above the barn. It’s quite drafty and damp." He quickly offered.
"Sounds wonderful," the man’s face broke into another smile.
"But it really isn't wonderful," the Innkeeper insisted. "You haven't seen it. It actually is not very pleasant. The furniture is all piled up at one end and there is only straw on the floor. You won’t be happy with it."
"Happiness is something you decide on ahead of time. Whether I like the room or not doesn't depend on how the furniture is arranged... it's how I arrange my mind.
Whether I think it’s wonderful or horrible, I’m right,” the man replied, “…and I’ve already decided on wonderful.”
The Innkeeper looked at the man as he thought on this.
“It's a decision I make every morning when I wake up,” the man continued. “Every day I have a choice: I can lie in bed recounting the difficulty I have with the parts of my body that no longer work…or I can get out of bed and be thankful for the ones that do work. I can think about not having enough time or money to do what I want…or be happy for what I am able to do. Just as I can be miserable in the space you can spare for me…or I can enjoy it. It really isn’t a difficult choice."
“Well, that is truly an excellent way of looking at things,” The innkeeper sighed. “I wish I could do that.”
“It’s not about wishing you could do something…it’s knowing you can and living that way.” The other man replied gently as he rubbed his hands in front of the fire.
“Please sir,” the innkeeper inquired. “May I ask your name?”
The man bowed slowly. “My name is Zin.”
Zinvolved
Zin slept peacefully in the loft above the barn. At daybreak he gave the innkeeper a silver coin he had found in the corner of the barn beneath some hay. He bowed and thanked the innkeeper for the room and for the biscuits he was given for his journey. The innkeeper bowed deeply as Zin packed the biscuits in his satchel and put on his straw hat. Stepping into the morning sun, he set off along one of the lesser traveled paths in the direction of the outer villages. His pace was strong but comfortable. He walked most of the day, stopping rarely, though often wandering off the road for extended explorations of various plants and rocks, occasionally picking some leaves or roots and putting them in his satchel.
Late in the afternoon, emerging from the forest, he came across a pile of wood, neatly stacked, by the side of the road. Down around the next bend he heard voices. He raised an eyebrow and moved forward noting that the voices carried a note of contention. As he approached, he saw two boys arguing over a small stack of wood in the middle of the road. It appeared that they were just about to come to blows.
The shorter of the two boys noticed Zin and paused. The other boy turned and glowered at him.
“Good morning,” Zin bowed and smiled.
“What’s so good about it?” the taller boy snapped.
Zin shrugged. “The sun is shining and the air is clear. It is a gift to be alive and there really isn’t anything else.”
“Humph!” the shorter boy snorted, “except when someone is stealing my firewood.”
“Ha!” exclaimed the bigger boy. “This is my wood. I left it piled here last night.” He stepped menacingly toward the smaller boy.
“No you didn’t. I did!” The boy stood his ground.
“Not true,” the bigger boy yelled louder.
“Please, sir, could you resolve our dispute?” The littler boy asked turning towards Zin.
Zin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The sounds of the forest seemed to grow quiet. When he spoke it was with a soft clear voice that vibrated through them. “When we think of others we create happiness and harmony. Those who understand this have no need to fight each other.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” the bigger boy exclaimed. “This is my wood.”
Zin looked at the smaller boy, who was obviously thinking hard about what Zin had said.
“Yes, it is yours,” the smaller boy said. “Please take it.”
The bigger boy’s eyes widened at the surprising turn of events. Quickly he gathered up the wood and hurried off down the road.
The smaller boy waited silently.
“What is your name,” Zin asked.
“Taro, sir.”
“Well Taro, every day we have opportunities to say ‘hello’, ‘please’, or ‘thank you’, congratulate someone on something wonderful that has happened to them, give a compliment, or just do something nice for no reason. This creates happiness and harmony in the world. You seem to understand this, don’t you?”
“I guess. But I’m sure that was my firewood,” Taro said softly.
“Then perhaps the firewood piled down the road around the corner is his. I saw it stacked there as I passed.” Zin said calmly pointing back down the road and winking.
Taro ran down the road and found the large stack of wood. The other boy must have forgotten exactly where he stacked it and had mistaken Taro’s little stack of wood for his.
Taro gathered up the wood and returned to where Zin was waiting. “This is twice the size and very dry. It will burn well.” Taro said excitedly.
“By fighting you never get enough, but by yielding you get more than expected.”
The road Zin traveled left the Jurin forest behind and began meandering through hills and valleys toward Mura village a small community on the top of a hill overlooking beautiful lake Mizuumi. Though the lake was glistening and full of water, it was hot and dry in this part of the land. The rain, when it fell, was woefully inadequate to quench the thirst of the many crops the people of Mura village had planted. The village well provided enough water for the people but it couldn’t be spared for the crops. Fortunately, the village sat upon a hilly rise above the glistening waters of Lake Tanko. The lake was fed through underground springs that came down from the nearby Yama mountain range. The water was fresh and plentiful. But the land around the lake was not suitable for crops. It was rocky and uneven. The villagers had to plant their crops up on the flat of a nearby hill next to the village where the soil was rich.
Mura village was not a very prosperous village and all of the young men and women had many responsibilities that left little time to haul water up from the lake. The older men and women of the village simply were not strong enough to carry the amount of water needed up the long trail from the lake to the fields. It was a constant dilemma.
On this day, as the sun grew higher in the sky, the villagers were meeting to discuss their problem. They didn’t know what to do. Young Taro had returned from gathering wood and had just told his father about the sage he had met on the road when Zin appeared, walking slowly along the road towards the village. His gray robe was dusty and his face was covered by the shadow of the large straw hat.
“That’s him!” Taro cried. “Perhaps he could give us some advice.”
Taro’s father, Tosan, was the village elder. He stood and bowed as the sage approached.
“Good day to you, sir. My son says that you have been kind to him this day.”
“I have no other way of being,” Zin replied.
“He says you are a wise man from a distant land.”
“I am simply a traveler” Zin said, “and my journey has brought me to your village.”
“Perhaps in your travels you have encountered a problem similar to ours and could provide some knowledge as to how we can solve it,” Tosan said.
“Anything is possible,” Zin replied.
Tosan quickly told the sage about the crops in the fields and the long distance it was to get water from the lake and the shortage of people to carry it.
Zin thought for a few moments as the villagers shuffled their feet and looked at each other. “It would appear that you need a water bearer.” The sage finally said.
The villagers continued shuffling their feet and looking at each other.
“If you would be kind enough to provide me with a place to sleep and a meal or two,” Zin continued, “I will offer my services as water bearer for your village until the fall harvest.”
The villagers drew a collective gasp. They had not expected this.
“Cer…cer…certainly, sir.” Tosan said, moving forward and bowing deeply. “I would be most honored if you would stay in my house.”
Returning the bow, Zin became the village water bearer.
The next day Zin searched the whole village but could only find two water buckets.
One of the water buckets was strong and sturdy. The other bucket looked sturdy, but sadly it had a small hole in the bottom.
“The rest of our buckets were lost in a barn fire this past winter.” Tosan explained.
Zin shrugged and began his task. He carried the buckets down the long winding path to the lake and filled them. Then he hauled them back up the path to the village. When he reached the fields the strong and sturdy bucket was full, but the bucket with the hole was only half full. The rest of the water had leaked out through the hole in the bottom.
Up and down, back and forth, over and over Zin carried the water buckets. Each and every time he reached the fields the strong and sturdy bucket was full, but each and every time he reached the fields the other bucket with the hole was only half full.
Every day Zin carried the water buckets along the meandering trail from the lake to the village. Up and down, back and forth, over and over.
The bucket with the hole was quite ashamed at its imperfection and miserable that it could only perform half of what it had been made for. It was not a happy bucket.
The sturdy bucket was proud of its ability to stay full.
Not too proud, mind you, it was just a bucket after all…
The bucket with the hole tried to do everything it could to hold its water.
But, being a bucket with a hole in it, that was not much.
Summer wore on and Zin carried the water buckets from the lake to the fields. Up and down, back and forth, over and over every day.
At last the harvest came and it was a bountiful crop. Everyone in the village rejoiced at their good fortune. With the harvest the demand for crop water dropped off and Zin’s job was finished.
The villagers thanked Zin for all of his work. Zin thanked the two buckets for all of their work. At this point the bucket with the hole could hold back no longer.
“Uhm, sir, I’m sorry.”
“Why?” Zin raised his eyebrow, apparently unsurprised at a talking bucket.
“I’m useless!” the bucket cried. “Every day you carry water from the lake to the village, up and down, back and forth, over and over, and every time half of the water I’m carrying leaks out before we get to the fields.”
“That’s how it is,” Zin nodded.
“But I can’t stop leaking…what a waste.”
“It’s not about what you can’t do.” Zin said as he picked up the bucket and carried it to the door. “Look.”
He opened the door and gestured out to the trail leading down to Lake Tanko, sparkling azure blue in the afternoon sunlight below the village.
The bucket looked.
As far as the eye could see, from the shores of the lake to the distant fields…one side of the meandering trail was lined with flowers and herbs. It was beautiful, almost magical.
Everywhere else was dry and barren.
“I knew you leaked, so I planted seeds along the trail.” Zin said. “Now the villagers have herbs for medicine and cooking.”
The bucket would have cried with joy, but since it was still just a bucket with a hole in it, it dripped.
Zin smiled. “Everyone has their own unique flaws. But it is the flaws we each have that make life interesting and rewarding. Take everyone for what they are and look for the good within.”
During the long summer months, when he had finished his water-bearing chores for the day, Zin would often climb to the top of the nearest mountain and practice his martial arts in a secluded glade. He would train for hours. Sometimes his movements were hard and strong, punching and kicking with amazing speed and power.