COURAGE: AN OLD FABLE FOR MODERN TIMES

Courage: An Old Fable for Modern Times

04.30.06.

Once, long, long ago, in Kamakura, there lived an old Samurai. Well, he was not just an old samurai. Actually, he was really not such an old man, but his hair (now thinning) was silver as were his neatly trimmed beard and mustache, and he was at the age when every injury he had every received in battle, every scar, reminded him daily that they were there and thus how he came to have them. He was a man of great fame in the province and had a reputation for courage, honesty and wisdom. A master swordsman, a sensei of kendo, iaido, and bushido, he was hatamoto to the shogun himself in Edo, and ready at a moment’s notice to go into battle for his lord. It was said that he was never seen to smile, yet, it was also said, that if you looked closely, you could often see a twinkle in the old man’s eyes.

But, he was retired now, as retired as any samurai can be. Now he spent much of his time in the beautiful garden of his home in the hills of Kamakura, or writing haiku, and producing beautiful works of shodo and sumi-e that were renowned all over. He also had a small dojo where he taught selected students in the samurai arts as well as in the culture of Japan.

The old samurai had a grandson, Ichiro, whom he loved early. The samurai’s son, Ichiro’s father and also a samurai of some position, was far too busy going about his duties, against the old samurai’s advice and teaching, to pay proper attention to his wife or to see to the proper training and preparation of his son. Therefore, the old samurai chose to take Ishiro under his wing, and sought to provide him with the best training and examples possible.

Ishiro was 8 years old, small for his age; yet, good looking and perhaps even a bit “cute” which is probably not a good thing to say about a future samurai. Ichiro worked very hard on all of his lessons, from swordsmanship, to hand-to-hand combat, to reading, writing, and even mathematics. Whenever studies for the day were over, Ichiro and his friends would do what all young boys do: rough and sometimes dangerous things that tested themselves and each other in terms of their physical ability and courage. While the old samurai was satisfied with Ichiro’s over-all abilities, he knew also that often his grandson lacked confidence and was hesitant or failed to keep up with the other boys. Ichiro was also aware of this.

One day, in summer, one a warm afternoon, as the old samurai sat in his garden “watching the rocks grow” he was interrupted by the presence of his grandson. “I am so sorry to bother you Grandfather,” the boy said. But I must talk to you.” His voice was sad and perhaps even trembled a bit.

“What is it Ichiro? You know that you may ask me anything,” answered the grandfather.

“It is something unworthy of your time I am sure, but I have know one else to ask. I feel so badly because I am not nearly as strong, brave, or courageous as my friends. They all seem to have great courage and I have none, Grandfather. Where can I find courage? How can I find it, get it,” Ichiro asked.

“Oh, so you think you have no courage?” The samurai asked.

“No grandfather, I don’t and I have no idea where to look for it or how to find it,” the boy answered.

Grandfather thought and thought, all the while with a sparkle in his eye and fighting to hold back a smile. “Well, this is indeed a serious matter Ichiro. Tell your mother to bring you here hone-half hour before sunset tomorrow, in your best clothes. Tell her only that it is for a very special ceremony that I will conduct, and nothing more than that. Now, you may go. I will see you tomorrow evening.”

After Ichiro had left, the old samurai went to the kitchen of his household and asked the head cook for small portions of the bitterest herbs he had on hand. Carefully, and with a slight smile on his face, he wrapped each of the herbs carefully in small silk packages and set them aside for the following day.

The next day, at the appointed time, Ichiro arrived at his grandfather’s gate accompanied by his mother. The old samurai’s wife, Midori-san, took the boy from his mother at the front door and said only, “Ichiro will return home shortly. His grandfather wishes only to do tea with him, nothing more.” As the boy and Midori-san walked down the hallway toward the garden, she explained to Ichiro that his grandfather was preparing a very special and secret ceremony, during which he would receive courage and instructed him that he was to say nothing to his grandfather but to observe strict silence and respect. Furthermore, he was never, under any circumstances, under pain of severe punishment, to ever tell anyone of this.

Now both frightened and excited, he entered the garden and walked along the path and over the small footbridge to the small teahouse at the rear of the garden. There his grandfather waited for him. Silently, the boy made a deep bow and then, has he had been trained, took the proper position at the old samurai’s side. The old man only nodded to the boy and began the ceremony, as formal as any tea ceremony you could ever imagine, with the difference that in addition to the traditional macha, the old man made a point of showing the boy each of the “special” herbs as he opened their packages and added them to the “tea.” At the end of the preparation, the old man offered Ichiro the cup, a beautiful cup of many blue and white glazes. The boy accepted the cup and began to take the first sip.“Oh! This is terrible grandfather! So sorry, but I cannot drink this at all. You cannot expect me to drink such a thing! What is it?” Ichiro blurted out.

Calmly, the old samurai turned to his grandson and said, “Well, if it was inside of you, it would be courage. Even just a taste of it has given you the courage to speak to me in such a rude and disrespectful manner. Now, finish it,” he ordered in the sternest fashion he could muster.

Hesitatingly, the boy looked deep into his grandfather’s eyes, then bowed deeply, and with difficult, drank from the cup until it was empty. Then the old samurai took the coup from his grandson and dismissed him, reminding him to never mention any of this to anyone, under any circumstances.

In the following days, Ichiro, despite his small size, began to change, and gradually was able to keep up with his playmates and even to challenge their abilities to keep up with him. The old samurai noted this with great satisfaction.

Then one day, his grandson came to him again. “Grandfather, I think you most deeply for the courage you have given me, but I fear that it is gradually diminishing.”

"Oh, whatever can you mean Ichiro-chan?” the old man asked.

“Well,” answered Ichiro, “Sometimes my friends and I, when we are doing things after class, playing or climbing, or well, doing many things, sometimes they are very dangerous, and I find myself hesitating to do them or not wanting to do them. I am worried that my courage is wearing away. What should I do, Grandfather?”

“Well,” answered the old samurai, again with a sparkle in his eyes and nothing but kindness in his voice, “Perhaps it is not that you have lost any courage at all. Only perhaps, it is the beginning of wisdom.”

© 2006, Hayato Tokugawa