As the wind whisked across the field from the high rock near the mountain, the little boy named Xiǎo Yú — small fish — sat overlooking the bamboo grove. After some time and some passage of clouds, his wàigōng arrived at the rock and sat down.
“Wàigōng,” he said, “did these lands really belong to our family?”
His wàigōng smiled and said, “These lands belong to our family in the way that anything can belong to anyone. That is to say, it is permanent while people are permanent. But as people fade, their permanence fades.”
Xiǎo Yú said, “Wàigōng, I’m confused. What do you mean?”
His wàigōng said, “This land was here long before there were people here, and this land will be here long after the people have gone from this land. Therefore, we do not own it. We simply look after it.”
The little boy said, “Why do we look after it, Wàigōng?”
His beautiful and wizened wàigōng looked at him and smiled and said, “We look after it because it is a gift for us to look after this land, because this land is the meeting place of all of the forces of the universe.”
Shocked and mystified, the little boy said, “What do you mean, Wàigōng?”
His wàigōng went on to explain that this land is a sacred grove of very, very special trees. They grow up fast, and they grow up strong, and they do so because of this land. His wàigōng stood up on the rock, stretched his right arm out, and pointed with his finger, and then turned in a circle. Only then did Xiǎo Yú realize that the rock they stood on was encircled by a small clearing that then led to what appeared to be an infinitely outstretched grove of trees.
His wàigōng then playfully pointed his finger at Xiǎo Yú’s nose and said, “In the beginning, the sky placed this rock here on this ground.” Then he used his hands to show a great rock falling from the sky. Then his wàigōng pointed to the rock and said, “After which a bolt of lightning came and struck this rock.” Again he used his hands, thrust them together, and then separated them and separated his fingers to indicate an explosion. “After the lightning came the years of rain.” He wiggled his fingers over his head to simulate rain falling all around him. Then his wàigōng swept both arms from right to left, up and down, almost as if dancing. “Then, Xiǎo Yú, the wind came, which brought the seeds. Those seeds planted themselves in this ground and have grown ever since and will grow here evermore.”
Xiǎo Yú looked at his wàigōng, somewhat pleased, but also a little bit scared, and asked, “Will it be my job to be the caretaker of this land, Wàigōng?”
His wàigōng patted him on the head and said, “My boy, you are already the caretaker of this land. All we must do to preserve the balance of these lands is to make sure that we as people do not take more than what we need. Then the elements, the wind, the rain, the land, the heat of the sun will provide us with far more than we could ever hope to use.”
Xiǎo Yú looked at his wàigōng and said, “This seems very simple.”
His wàigōng tutted and said, “Oh, no. You must understand that the will of man is never to use just what he needs, but always to take what he wants. And because he does not know the dimensions of his own greed, that want can grow beyond all fathomable reckoning. Preserving the balance is a mighty task.”
The child looked at his wàigōng and said, “Do you think I will be good enough to preserve the balance?”
His wàigōng, adjusting his cloak to shield himself from the wind, said, “I think in due time you will be more than up to the task of preserving the balance. For now, you just focus your attention on witnessing all the forces of nature at work, examining how they move, and observing how they interact with our human lives. That is the foundation of the preservation of the balance, simply to know what is happening in all directions at all times.”
The small boy looked at his wàigōng and said, “Thank you, Wàigōng. I will make that my job.”
⁂
The condiment station at a major chain coffee store in a bustling downtown shopping mall. The little boy has picked up all of the stirrers, dropped them on the ground, and is observing how they spread out in a radial fashion at his feet. His mother is screaming. “Steven! What are you doing? Look at the mess you’ve made. Oh, no.”
One of the attendants behind the counter says, “Ma’am, it’s okay. This happens more than you would believe. I’ll get someone to clean it up right away. Please don’t even think twice.”
The mother ushers the wordless boy back to his seat, sits him next to his old, wizened, grizzled wàigōng, who says, “Stupid boy. Not even worth a plate of day-old fish. Says nothing, does nothing but make a mess. We can’t take him anywhere.”
The boy’s mother says, “Father, please. He’s just curious, that’s all. He’s just trying to see the world around him.”
The wàigōng lets out a sigh. “$4.75 for ‘hot chocolate’. Huh! I’ve never heard of such a thing. I don’t understand how you people function. When I was a boy, we had no such thing as hot chocolate. When I was a boy, it was always hot. We didn’t want hot things. We wanted to stay cool. This is a disgrace. I don’t think I want to live any longer.”
“Father, you always say that,” his daughter sighs. “But you never do anything about it.”
The young boy, Steven, looking down at the array of sticks and stirrers that are on the ground, sees them form a mystical pattern that seems to take on a glow of light, rise into the air, rush out of the door, and vanish.