The more rules you have, the more people will want to break them and more punishment will be needed.
Long ago, the sage and a group of his students were sitting on the bank of a lazy river. They all had fishing poles, but none of them were catching any fish. Up drove a fine carriage with golden ornaments and out stepped one of the king’s highest ranking officials. The official approached the sage, bowed, and said, “Great sage, the king has heard of your vast knowledge and wisdom and wishes you to join him at court and be his chief advisor.”
Without turning around from his fishing the sage said, “Honored sir, I have heard that the king has the shell of a sacred tortoise that is a thousand years old.”
“That is true,” said the official. “It is greatly honored.”
“Tell me,” said the sage. “Do you think that tortoise would rather be a cherished relic beside the king’s throne or alive and roaming through the desert looking for a patch of grass to eat?”
“Well, I would suppose he would rather be alive,” said the richly dressed man.
“Me too,” said the sage. “I would rather be a tortoise roaming the desert.”
With that the official climbed back in his carriage and returned to the palace.
It is better to be content than to be important.
Long ago, the sage and his student Dizzy Kettle sat before a warm campfire on a cool autumn evening. “Master,” said Dizzy Kettle, “how can I find the words to describe the great way of nature?”
Staring at the flickering flames the sage said, “There are words to describe the parts of a horse: wither, hoof, tail, fetlock, muzzle, hock, mane, and more, but none of those words are the horse. The horse is much more than the sum of all the words put together. No words, even if there were enough to fill a library, could come close to describing the way of nature.”
We cannot understand life by thinking about its parts. We must experience it as a whole.
Long ago, the sage and his student Marble Eggshell were walking along the road when they were passed by a golden coach pulled by two fine jet-black horses carrying the king’s chief minister. “Oh my!” exclaimed Marble Eggshell. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful to be rich and ride in a fine coach rather than walk on this dusty road?”
“I don’t think I am made for such riches,” said the sage. “I am more like the white peacock.”
The sage went on to explain: “While exploring a rarely visited part of the forest, one of the king’s hunters came upon a white peacock. Its beauty was dazzling. The hunter carefully set a trap for the bird and after several failed attempts, he trapped it and presented it to the king. The great monarch was overwhelmed by its beauty and held a huge banquet for the bird. The royal musicians played their fine instruments, but the bird became frightened. The court dancers danced for the peacock, but their movements frightened it. Next, dishes of the most succulent meat were served to the peacock, but the bird was sickened by the smell. Overcome by the onslaught of strange sensory experiences, the bird collapsed and died.
“I am not made for riches either,” said the sage.
The life of wealth is not for everyone; some need the simple life.
Long ago, the sage and his student Shiny Shadow were riding in the back of a farmer’s cart with the vegetables, on their way to the marketplace. “Master,” said a downcast Shiny Shadow. “I am so confused. I feel entangled in life. I struggle to find my way through my problems with the other students, my family, my clan, and even this country.”
“It is very easy to become entangled in the affairs of men,” said the sage. “To escape problems one must learn when to float on the water, when to bend with the wind, when to seek shelter from the storm, and when to bask in the sun. I am a honeybee that flits from flower to flower. I am a snake that sheds it skin when a new one is needed. I follow when the time is right to follow and quietly sit apart when the time is right to sit apart. There are no problems when you follow the way of nature; no knots to bind you, no stones to trip you, no problems that do not naturally solve themselves.”
Struggling with problems often just gets you more entangled in them. It is better to calm yourself; once you are settled you will know when to take action and when to do nothing.
Long ago, the sage and his student Happy Knuckles sat on a low bridge over a stream with their feet dangling in the cool water. “Master,” said Happy Knuckles, “wouldn’t you like to be wealthy?”
“No,” said the sage. “Wealth only brings problems.”
“Then wouldn’t you like to have many sons?” asked the student.
“No,” said the sage. “Sons can bring much grief and sorrow.”
“How about a long life? Surely you would like a long life,” asked Happy Knuckles.
“No,” said the sage. “Long life just brings illness and suffering.”
Just then a quail burst from behind a tree and flew over their heads.
“There,” said the sage, pointing at the bird. “That is what I would like. I would like to be a quail, flying through the air and being a part of the beauty of the forest. Yes, that is what I would like.”
Many things that people value in life can also bring problems and sorrows.
Long ago, outside the king’s palace, the sage and Princess Lavender Freckles strolled through the royal game preserve. The princess was considered the most beautiful woman in the entire kingdom. During their walk they came to a tranquil pond, and the princess bent over the water to get a better look at the trout swimming there. The trout saw her and with a burst of speed swam away from her sweet face. Next they came upon a heron fishing by the edge of the pond. When it saw the princess, it started and flew away in fear. Around the corner of the pond, a great stag stood drinking. On seeing the princess, the stag jumped into the air and bolted through the woods.
The princess looked at the sage with tears in her eyes and asked, “Why do all of these creatures flee from me? Am I not pleasing to look at?”
“Princess,” said the sage. “You are most beautiful. But what is considered beautiful to some is not always so for all creatures or even for all people.”
Beauty is in the eyes and mind of the beholder.
Long ago, the sage found himself in great poverty. The sage decided to travel to the local nobleman, Bulbous Bracket, to ask for help. When he arrived he asked, “Kind sir, could you please give me a small sack of grain, so I can survive these hard times?”
The well-fed nobleman replied, “I am a bit short of grain right now, but in six months I will be collecting my taxes from my tenants and will give you one hundred pieces of gold.”
The sage shook his head and said with sarcasm, “On my way here I encountered a small golden carp trapped in a puddle that had been separated from the river by receding waters. ‘Could you help me?’ the carp asked. ‘If you could pick me up and carry me to the river, I would be most grateful. I will be dead in hours if you do not.’ ‘I would like to,’ I said to the carp, ‘but I am in a hurry right now. When I have time next week, I will dig a channel from the river to you, and you will have all the water you need.’
“Noble sir,” continued the sage, “one hundred pieces of gold will do me little good in six months when I am dead from starvation.”
The promise of help in the future does nothing to satisfy needs in the present.
Long ago, the sage and his student Pickled Fencepost were walking through the city streets and passed the king’s palace. A thick, high wall surrounded the palace and heavily armed soldiers walked the top of the wall and stood in front of the huge iron door. Pickled Fencepost looked around him as they walked and asked the sage, “Why do people need kings?”
Just then the sound of honking high above mingled with the sounds of the city. They looked up and saw a V formation of geese flying over the ornate palace roof. The sage said, “Geese do not need a king. As they fly, they rotate the lead position of the flock and every few hours the leader becomes a follower. No one needs to tell them what is rig
ht and what is wrong. They do not need a king to tell them what to believe or to whom they must be loyal.”
Leadership is best when it is shared by many.
Long ago, the sage and his student Vertical Wagon sat on a hill at the edge of their village and gazed at the mountains. “Why is it so difficult to be righteous?” lamented Vertical Wagon. “I try to devote myself to be right, yet I often fail and am so disappointed in myself.”
“What is right?” asked the sage. “The swan does not scrub herself with soap every day, yet she is sparkling white. The crow does not smudge himself with soot, yet he is coal black. They are both right for who they are. Right is not something you can create. Right is simply being who you are.”
If we are true to who we are, we will naturally find what is right.
Long ago, the sage and his student Dangling Mountain were preparing for their day. The master put on his plain, dusty gray robe that he always wore. Dangling Mountain asked, “Master, why do you wear such a plain robe day after day? Your wealthy students and admirers would buy you a dozen fine brocade robes made with silver and gold.”
“Yes,” said the sage. “I suppose they would. Have you ever heard of the snow leopard?”
“Oh, yes,” said the student. “It is the most beautiful of all animals.”
“So it is,” said the master. “It leads its quiet life high in the mountains and avoids all contact with people. Yet men relentlessly hunt and kill it for its gorgeous coat. I will wear my shabby robe,” said the sage.
When you are humble and modest in your needs, there are few who would wish to take away what you have.
Long ago, the sage and his student Wooden Soup sat outside on a summer evening, enjoying the cool air and gazing at the stars. “I feel so small,” said Wooden Soup. “The world is so large, and I am so unimportant.”
“What is small?” asked the sage. “What is large? The tip of a fox’s hair is small. The heavens above us are large. But we must have both because we could not know large if we did not have small to compare it to. If we did not have the west, we could not find the east. All things have their place, and all things are equally important. The heavens above are no more important than you are, and you are no more important than the tip of a fox’s hair.”
We are a very small part of a great universe, but being small does not mean that we are unimportant. Each person is just as important as everything and everyone else.
Long ago, the sage was sitting by a mountain stream with his student Heaven Sludge. For hours they had been watching the fish swim up and down the stream.
“Fish delight in the water,” said the sage. “The water gives them all they need. They do what is natural, and all is well. Many people want to constantly change nature or use nature’s bounty for profit. If they would only see their folly, they too could live with the ease of fish in a mountain stream.”
To live in harmony with nature is the true path to happiness and contentment.
Long ago, the sage and his student Lead Milk were sitting on a large dead tree limb watching a line of termites hauling bits of wood back to their nest.
“Master,” said Lead Milk, “I am so sad. No matter what I try, I cannot lift my spirits. Distressing thoughts keep running through my head.”
The sage was using a stick to make little furrows in front of the termites, and he watched the insects make their way through the little ditches. “Lead Milk,” said the sage. “If two dead, dry limbs of a tree rub together in the wind they can create friction, heat, and then fire. That fire may not only burn the trees but also the creatures of the forest—like these innocent termites. The mind can have thoughts that rub together to create the fire of anxiety and sadness. Do not try to stop the thoughts from rubbing together; let them flow freely through your mind. Then the fire will not start, and anxiety and sadness will quiet.”
Our minds can create thoughts that make us feel bad. If we let these thoughts come and go and don’t dwell on them, happiness will return to our minds.
Long ago, the sage sat on a large rock with his student Broken Water. The student said, “I have learned so much from you. I think I am ready to show the king’s ministers my great wisdom and deep knowledge, and surely they will give me a prominent job at the court.”
The sage replied, “The king was once hunting in the forest with a group of his top military officers. They came upon a troop of monkeys feeding in a large fig tree. Seeing the men, the monkeys burst into action and fled to the highest limbs of the great tree, out of reach of the hunters’ arrows. But one monkey stayed on the low limbs, dancing on a branch and showing off his great grace and agility as he smiled and chattered to the men. The hunters all raised their bows and let their arrows fly in unison, and the monkey fell to the forest floor. That’s what happens to those who show off their skills.”
It is best to be humble and not try to impress people. If you have good qualities, people will see them.
Long ago, the sage sat by a road with his student Frivolous Fig, watching a troop of soldiers march down the road dressed in their armor and carrying their weapons of war. “Master,” said Frivolous Fig. “Why are the affairs of men so absurd? Why do they fight and kill one another? Enduring peace is nowhere to be found on the face of the earth.”
“In a time that is now forgotten,” said the sage, “people did not live like this. They grew vegetables and gathered fruits, nuts, and roots for their food. People lived in modest huts and gathered firewood from dead trees in the summer and burned it in the winter to keep their homes warm and comfortable. The deer and rabbits would lie at their feet. Birds would land on their shoulder and sing songs to them. Then came nations, kings, armies, and wars. The way of nature was no longer the way of men.”
If people could live in simple harmony with nature and each other, there would be no need for armies and wars.
Long ago, the sage, who was growing old, sat with Mud Chariot, one of his youngest students. The naive student said, “Oh greatest of masters, I cannot wait to gain the understanding of all things. It will be wonderful to have the knowledge of every aspect of heaven and earth and all that is in between!”
The sage sighed and said with sarcasm, “Oh, yes, Mud Chariot. You will know the chicken with six legs, the fire that is not hot, the feathered frog, the kitten that has no mother, the winged snake, the ocean that is not wet, and the bull who lays eggs. To know everything is like screaming at an echo to quiet it, or trying to win a race with your shadow. Oh, yes, Mud Chariot, it will be a wonderful thing indeed when you are a know-it-all.”
It’s not possible to know everything, and it is nonsense to think that one can.
Long ago, when the sage had grown quite old, he was hobbling on his walking stick with his student Turnip Toes in the forest not far from his hut. As they were walking they came upon a very old, very gnarled oak tree. Turnip Toes noticed a sunbird sitting in her nest on one of the lower limbs of the tree. “What a stupid bird,” said the student. “There are magnificent large straight pine trees all around with strong boughs where that bird could have made her nest, but instead she chose this useless old tree.”
“Yes,” said the sage. “It most certainly is a useless tree. Its trunk and branches are so gnarled and twisted that no woodsman would ever think to use it for lumber. There is not a foot of straight board in the entire tree that can be cut for lumber. And it is so ancient, maybe 300 years old, it makes me look like a youngster. And how did it get so old? Why, by being useless. That bird is by no means stupid. She was wise to build her nest where it would not be destroyed by woodsmen looking for lumber. But those straight pines all around are prime for the ax. Really, Turnip Toes, you must learn that there is nothing so useful as being useless.”
To have what others want can lead to disaster. To be simple, unassuming, and even “useless” can lead to happiness and a long life.
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© 2017 by Mark W. McGinnis
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
eBook design adapted from printed book design by Liz Quan
COVER ART: Mark W. McGinnis
COVER DESEIGN: Liz Quan
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: McGinnis, Mark W., 1950– author, illustrator.
Title: The Show-Off Monkey and Other Taoist Tales / written and illustrated by Mark W. McGinnis.
Description: First Edition. | Boulder, Colorado: Shambhala, 2017. Identifiers: LCCN 2016032675 | ISBN 9781611803471 (hardcover: alk. paper)
eISBN 9780834840935
Subjects: LCSH: Taoist legends. | Taosim—Folklore.
Classification: LCC BL1942.5 .M35 2017 | DDC 299.5/148—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016032675
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