LA OBLIGACIÓN DE ACTUAR PARA DETENER Y CESAR VIOLACIONES

At sunrise, KoYou scrambled out of bed and down to the kitchen. He grabbed a cloth sack and stuffed four bowls of dried barley, a jar of dried ginger strips, a small bagful of dried licorice root and three handfuls of jujubes inside.

The morning cook bowed and tried to take the sack from KoYou, thinking the prince’s son craved a big breakfast. KoYou waved the cook away, explaining that he would take the parcel to Laotzu’s guesthouse so the sage could cook for himself. The cook flailed both arms across his face furiously, declaring it a scandal to allow an important guest to cook for himself. But before he could protest any further, KoYou leapt through the door and into the courtyard.

KoYou thought he’d surprise the sage by coming early, but instead, found Laotzu already awake and outside his cottage performing a mysterious standing meditation. Laotzu’s eyes were closed, but

nonetheless the master raised his arms and turned with seemingly little effort in circular patterns. His feet stepped lightly as he moved. It was like watching the slow flight of a bird or the swirl of eddies along the riverbank.

The young boy paused to watch, not knowing whether to interrupt or not. As if to answer his question, Laotzu’s mysterious dance came to a slow finish, and the master’s eyes opened.

“Ah! Breakfast!” he cried, and stretched out his hand to take the sack from KoYou. “Come inside, boy.”

Once inside the hut, KoYou saw that embers from a small fire already burned in the fire pit. Laotzu threw some extra kindling on the fire and looked around for a pot to boil the grain.

“I’ll cook the grain, son, you just go fetch some water,” directed the master.

“But I am to serve you,” KoYou replied. “Shouldn’t I cook you breakfast?”

asked Laotzu. KoYou looked down towards the ground.

“I didn’t think so,” chuckled Laotzu.

KoYou blushed. His life of privilege was sometimes a handicap. The young man grabbed the wooden pail and went out to the well for water as directed. When he came back, Laotzu took the pail with a nod and beckoned KoYou to make himself comfortable.

“Tell me about yourself, son,” Laotzu asked, as he filled a stone pot with water and hulled barley. “I heard tell that you did not always live in the palace.”

“No sir, that is true,” said KoYou. “The Prince adopted me when I was only seven.”

“Seven? What happened to your natural father?” asked the sage.

“My mother’s first husband, my father, was General Zhu Ming. Barbarians ambushed our family one day and then they murdered him. They took my mother and me as prisoners for many weeks. I was only six

years old.’

“Old enough to remember,” the sage remarked. “I remember some things, but not all,” KoYou reflected. “I remember my mother’s bravery. She kept telling the barbarian chief that she would bring a high ransom from the city, but only if they didn’t harm us. She was very firm and persuasive. By some luck, he believed her and didn’t touch us for the entire time. The chief couldn’t decide whether to return us to collect the ran-som, or keep my mother for himself. He never had the chance to make up his mind.”

“Oh? What happened?” asked the sage.

“Prince KoWu led troops into the mountains and found our cave. It shocked the barbarians that the prince himself and his best guards would leave the city, much less come up into their hiding place. The prince caught them by surprise.” KoYou retold the story of their rescue.

“I remember that day best! KoWu, now my father, had a huge broadsword. When he saw my mother

and me in the back of the cave, and could see they’d already killed my father, he was furious! He and his men slaughtered every barbarian in those mountains. Nobody had ever seen such skill with a horse or a sword as they saw from Prince KoWu! The neighboring barbarian chiefs saw the massacre and hurried to sign a truce with KoWu to spare themselves from his fury. Many other servants, slaves and captives were set free that day by the barbarians and returned to West Peace.

“That is why they have been too afraid to attack my father’s city for eight years. That is until the day you arrived.”

“So he took you and your mother back and married her?”

“No. Not right away. The Prince already had a very young and beautiful queen. He treated us well though, and admired my mother’s strength and cleverness in how she protected herself and me for all those months,” KoYou continued. “He gave my mother a rather large sum of money so that she could live out her years with honor and raise me the way my father would have.”

“So when did they marry?” asked Laotzu.

“One year later,” answered the boy. “KoWu’s young queen died in childbirth shortly after KoWu’s return from battle. The midwives said her body was too fragile to withstand the strain. So after a few months of mourning, KoWu started to visit my mother from time to time. I guess he remembered her so well from our rescue. They had a lot in common, since they both suffered loss.” “Your mother is quite a gracious and refined lady,” Laotzu assured him.

“Yes she is. Even when the barbarians held us in their miserable cave, my mother insisted that she and I behave with dignity and manners. She never lost her ladylike ways, even after they killed her husband.”

“I can see why KoWu felt she’d make a good queen, he undoubtedly loves her very much,” said the sage.

“KoWu had to make a special petition to his father the king to marry her. It was even more difficult to

receive permission to adopt me. By adopting me, I now carry the Ko name and will be KoWu’s heir.” While he talked, KoYou unconsciously picked up a twig and jousted it in the air like a sword.

“You really enjoy playing with the sword, don’t you?” asked Laotzu.

“Yes,” KoYou answered. “Ever since the day they killed my father, I have always picked up sticks and tried to practice the sword arts. Even as a little boy I thought that I could protect my mother if I had to, and I swore I would learn well so that I could protect my whole family when I grew up.”

“Do you only practice with sticks?”

KoYou laughed. “Oh no. Well I guess I did until Prince KoWu saw me playing under a tree one day. After he adopted me, he soon assigned me tutors in the martial arts. I have several fine swords given to me from my tutors. Like this one here,” KoYou parted his robe and revealed a scabbard tied tight against his waist. He didn’t forget to bring a sword this day.

“So how did your name become KoYou instead of KoChian?” asked Laotzu.

“Oh that!” laughed the boy. “My name is still KoChian. Everybody just calls me KoYou because of the pun. Since my father’s name is ‘Wu,’ some people joke that it means ‘nothing’ or ‘void.’ So they decided to call me ‘You’ since it means ‘to have something.’ I think, in a way, it is a strange way they honor us. It’s like wishing your son to be even more successful than you are.”

“There’s a lot to a name,” Laotzu nodded. He could see the boy really did have many talents. He inherited great talent in fighting and swordsmanship from both his natural and adopted father. His mother’s grace and diplomacy helped teach him how to build goodwill with all of the palace advisors and the town elite. He could also tell that Prince KoWu invested much in the boy, giving him the best tutors and the finest training. KoWu obviously knew that KoYou might very well replace him one day.

“Teacher,” KoYou shifted the topic from himself, “what was that meditation you were doing outside

when I arrived?”

“That KoYou, is the Tao’s work, some call it Tao Gong,” answered Laotzu.

“Is it something you practice like a martial art?” asked the boy.

“Not exactly, although it takes devotion and some work with the body to change its nature, its way of functioning,” explained the sage.

“What do you mean?”

“In the martial arts, you can only learn to become faster, stronger or more skillful. But it is still limited. If you are very strong, there will always come a day when somebody is stronger than you. If you are fast, you better watch out that your opponent is not faster than you, or you will lose,” explained the sage. “So when you practice the martial arts, you are just trying to become a better ‘you.’”

“Isn’t that so with meditation too?” KoYou replied. “With some meditation, you merely try to calm your

mind. But in Tao meditation, you can actually change your whole self and become unlimited,” said the master.

“Let’s pretend you are a rabbit. You are about as long as a forearm, and fluffy, and you are an animal. You can become strong, or fast, or you can meditate to become bigger, but you will still be a rabbit. You will just be a strong or fast or bigger rabbit,” the teacher illustrated. “But with Tao Gong meditation, you seek to become something different entirely. With Tao Gong, it’s as if you, a rabbit, change into a cat. Sure you might still be as long as a forearm, and covered with soft fur, but your nature has fundamentally and permanently changed.”

“Wow,” wondered KoWu. “But how can we do that? Why do we need to change?”

“To connect to the power of Tao, we must change. The Tao will not come down and reach us in the state that we are in; it is we who must change our- selves to come closer to the Tao. We do this by coming closer to that piece of Tao inside us called the Te,” said Laotzu.

“I heard you talking about that last night. Teacher, I wish you could show me more about this power of Tao. All the others at the banquet, they talk so eloquently, but I am still so young and awkward. Would you mind if I ask you some naive questions?” KoWu bowed politely.

“Speak your mind,” the sage invited.

“Well, I can’t tell this to anyone, but really, inside, I don’t care if I become a king or not. I would much rather be a spiritual person like you. I enjoy my talks with the visiting monks and scholars, and I think about such things often when I ride my horse out in the countryside,” KoYou confessed.

“There’s a reason for that, young friend,” the sage smiled. “Every one of us carries a tiny piece of the power of Tao inside and therefore we each have a mission. We are moved to do what we are designated to do. We might try to go down other paths, because of ego or outside pressure from family or society, but the power of Tao, the original power implanted in each of us will continue to shine with the true message we should follow.”

“Yes, Master. I am glad you tell me this. I always wondered what path I should follow to help the world ever since the barbarians kidnapped my mother and I when I was six. I feel it is very important to protect and help others, and I know everyone expects me to grow up as a prince or general or a great warrior. I even think I could be good at those things. But Teacher, something inside me is calling me to do more than that.”

Laotzu gently encouraged, “What is it, my young friend? Say it.”

“I want to be a spiritual monk, like you. Please don’t tell anyone. Master, it would break my mother’s heart, and my father’s and everyone who knows me. If they heard my real intention, they would not be able to accept it. I’ve only mentioned such things to Yin Lian. Even though she understands, she never thought it would be possible for me. But now that you are here, it seems more than possible,” said KoYou, whose head bowed as he spoke his heart.

“I understand, KoYou. It is the true energy, the Te, implanted inside your life energy. It gives you the

true message that if you become a spiritual leader you will help more people than if you become a king. But the world is not ready for you yet.”

“Why, Master? Why can’t I become who I really am? Can you help me?”

Laotzu got up and checked his pot by the fire pit. The barley and jujubes bubbled thick and sweet. He scooped some into two bowls, and set one in front of his young friend. After they both paused to blow the steam off the porridge, they enjoyed a few quiet bites together, as Laotzu continued: “In Tao, the first principle is to follow the flow of the power. It’s like swimming in a rapid river. You must flow with the current, not fight it. Flow is the natural way: to fight is artificial and stems from man’s ego.”

“How does that work in life, Master?” asked KoYou.

“Look at yourself right now. How did you come to be in this cottage eating cereal with me this morning?” asked Laotzu

“Gee. Well my father asked me to be your servant because you only wanted a boy. I thought it was a great adventure and so I agreed, and here I am!” said KoYou.

“Right!” Laotzu exclaimed. “You followed the flow. What would have happened if you had refused your father and had become indignant at being made to serve like a commoner?”

“Well, I would have saved some pride. But I wouldn’t be sitting here with you,” answered the boy, now smiling with understanding.

“I think you’re catching on.”

“Master,” KoYou seemed anxious and hesitant now. “I know I could be very good as a governor. I study hard, especially philosophy. I am also very good at martial arts and sword fighting. I am only fourteen, but I can fight adult warriors with equal skill. I know I am qualified to be a prince, a governor, a general and even a king someday, but I...”

“But...”

“I know what it is, so you don’t have to be afraid,” Laotzu smiled. Being a master of the Tao, he knew other people’s very thoughts. “You say it yourself though, it is better that way.”

“Master, I hate killing.” KoYou looked down, embarrassed. “I know I shouldn’t say so, and I shouldn’t feel so. I’m expected to be strong, merciless, powerful and determined, like my father, Prince KoWu. My father can give an order to kill without blinking an eye. I saw him kill literally hundreds of barbarians in one charge when he rescued my mother and I. He didn’t flinch. Yet, I still cannot accept the idea of killing people. I just can’t, Master. What should I do?”

Laotzu patted the youth on the shoulder, “My friend, there is never any embarrassment in what you said. Quite the opposite! It is an honor to say you cannot kill.”

KoYou looked at him with surprise. “Master? You don’t think I am born a coward?”

“Not at all. I think you are a true, brave young man. Only a man with courage and honor admits his true feelings. Those who pretend to be brave and hide their true feelings are cowardly and weak. You said what you truly feel and so are strong and honorable.” Laotzu stood up and motioned to the boy, “Come, son. Let’s go take a walk in the courtyard.”

They walked through the stable and out into the gardens. They strolled slowly, admiring the stonework, the bushes, and the placid ponds stocked with fish. Together they formed an idyllic picture: a young prince with a wizened icon, talking together about truth.

“You see this beautiful garden,” Laotzu began. “It is groomed and tended so well by the gardener with tenderness and love. This is true human feeling. But this garden can be destroyed in the blink of an eye by a barbarian troop if they attacked this city and broke through the gate.

“The killing is artificial and learned. The love and care is a natural occurrence. Love needs patience and care. Hate and killing only need rage and anger.

Love needs true feeling and wisdom. Hate and killing need only brutality. It is true and normal to say you cannot kill. Why should you feel embarrassed that you feel that way?”

“Master,” KoYou asked, “if I do not learn how to kill, then someday when I am attacked or my family is attacked, I would not be able to defend and protect them. My father always taught me that you must kill first and make your other enemies afraid of you. I know he is right, but I cannot kill.”

“What your father says is true on one hand, but every situation has more than one solution. Unfortunately, most rulers don’t take the time to find a better solution so they take the easy way out. In the case of ruling a border city, it is easier to enforce order by killing an offender. This scares the others who might also seek to upset order; but it is a hard and brutal way to take care of things.” The sage shook his head slowly.

“But how do we find a better way to keep order without such killing?” asked KoYou.

quietly and said nothing. I know what you are thinking, and it shows you still don’t understand what I tried to tell everyone about the power of Tao,” scolded the sage.

“I confess. I didn’t understand most of what you said,” blushed KoYou.

“What I tried to tell everyone is to use their most sincere mind. We must focus and dedicate our awareness toward our body. We must use our body like a broadcast tower where the bugler trumpets his message to the entire city. We must broadcast a positive message to impact and influence others. If one can achieve this, he need not kill.”

“I like that idea, Master. Could you teach me how to do it? If it would save me from having to kill, I am willing to learn.”

Laotzu smiled, “It is not a trick, young man. Neither does it require learning.”

“Why so? If I do not learn, how can I do it?” mused KoYou.

grow up, we trade our true and powerful life energy for fake, ‘man-made’ ideas and tricks. It is in us –