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ROBINSON THE YOUNG DISCIPLE
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Months or years have passed and the robes of the novice have been thrown away. Others, boys like he was years ago, have come into the temple as apprentices behind him and now Robinson is no longer the lone student as he was for Kang's first demonstration but is instead one of a group of seven disciples working with the grand masters. Such, he now knows, are the ways of the temple....there is a slow gathering over the years of prospective novices, then nothing for a long time until all of them qualify for training, and then again the search for the one applicant out of thousands who may become an apprentice. The temple will undertake no more than the number it can train....and it will begin the training for none except those who have already shown themselves to be worthy. Half of the education, Robinson now realizes, is in the task of labor before the instruction begins. It is hard that this must be this way for there is much cost to the lessons learned....but there could be no other. The discipline is hard, the religion complex and a true understanding would take several lifetimes. He will never be more than a novice in some profound way, Robinson thinks. But neither---and they would be the first to say this---would Grand Master Kang, Grand Master Kim, and Grand Master Gu. All of the ways must begin with vast humility. So he will learn what he can and do what he can, and know that all of life except for the mystery of death itself must be lived in a state of incompletion.
Grand Master Zum of the Dragon system sits in a huge, bare room surrounded by disciples, throwing ornate brass stars at a target. Eyes closed, he throws the darts with enormous force and great skill. Almost all of them hit the target in the dead center. After a time, Grand Master Gu, who is lecturing, must halt the demonstration to allow Robinson to remove darts from the target; and give Grand Master Zum more area.
Grand Master Zum's eyes are closed. When he is not throwing darts and stars he is meditating. Indeed the targeting seems to be part of the meditation itself, so complete is the blending of the two. His motions flow from rest to throw imperceptibly, more quickly than Robinson can see.
"He is practicing," Grand Master Gu says. "To hit a target in this manner is to show inner strength."
Zum comes out of meditation and throws five darts in the space of no more than four seconds. The disciples watch quietly as all of the darts hit the target in the center.
"There are two kinds of strength," Gu says. "The outer strength is obvious. Everyone has it in varying degrees. But to delight in one's outer strength is lunacy."
Robinson nods. He understands what Gu is saying. Indeed, in his own new meditations, he has become aware, to the slow central decline of his body, that life contains its own corruption and death, and that it is approached by all at varying rates. He no longer thinks that he is immortal.
"Lunacy indeed," Gu is saying, "because the outer strength fades with age, succumbs to sickness, and is enveloped at last by the wings of death. But there is something else, a quality which can be controlled and is within our means as the outer strength is not. And this is the inner strength, what we call the ki."
Slowly, Zum arises from meditation, bows to the disciples, picks up the scattered darts and stars, places them in a pouch, and leaves the room. This is traditional with the grand masters; their way is neither prepared for them nor removed after they have gone. As do the disciples, the novices, and the apprentices, they must partake of their own effects, and be entirely responsible for them. Now at the door, he bows once more ceremonially and is gone.
"Everyone possesses this inner strength," Gu says in summation, "from the best to the least this quality is within reach. But it is infinitely more difficult to develop because it is elusive because it works in ways contrary to that which strength seems to do. It was not power that enabled Zum to strike the target, but skill. And that skill comes from the searching inward."
There are other lessons and other skills to acquire. One day Grand Master Kang brings him alone to a narrow corridor of the temple; he watches wonderingly, as Grand Master Choi unrolls a long carpet of rice paper before him. Robinson looks at the delicate, unmarked paper, and as Grand Master Choi steps aside, Kang explains.
"The temple is a place of immense wisdom and power. It exists beyond the boundaries of time, untouched by the passing regimes that govern our world. But, we must remember that even though the temple is timeless, it still needs to coexist with the world around it. There are times when we must be discreet in our comings and goings, concealing our actions from those who believe they hold authority over us. Throughout history, countless regimes have risen and fallen. They may impose their rules upon us temporarily, but their power is fleeting. The temple stands strong and eternal amidst these changes.
"Our forebears have left us a legacy of resilience and survival," Kang says. "They faced times of immense difficulty and stress, just like we do now. In those trying moments, they discovered a hidden corridor - a path to freedom from those who sought to oppress us. To ensure our flight was successful, we walked this path with utmost secrecy lest anyone outside these walls hear even a whisper of us. This rice paper holds more than meets the eye. It is not just a simple carpet; it carries with it the weight of history and the wisdom of those who came before us. The ancients understood that life is cyclical, that what has occurred in the past will inevitably repeat itself in one form or another. We have faced challenges and threats from our adversaries. We have endured wars, conflicts, and struggles to protect what we hold dear. And in our wisdom, we devised ways to prepare ourselves for such eventualities."
"Yes," Robinson says, but he does not really understand and after just a moment the need for deception passes from him and he says, "But I do not quite understand, grand master. Tell me what the rice paper is truly for."
Kang smiles as if pleased that Robinson has been able to admit to him his lack of understanding. A younger Robinson, the Robinson of some weeks or minutes ago might not have done this. "It's all about mastering the art of stealth and control," Kang says softly. "Imagine walking on delicate rice paper, up and down the corridor without making a single sound. It's not just about being light on your feet; it's about being in complete harmony with your surroundings.
"Every step you take must be deliberate and precise--- as if you're gliding effortlessly through the air. The key is to distribute your weight evenly, ensuring that no pressure is exerted on the rice paper beneath your feet. It requires immense force and discipline.
"Now, why is this important? Because when you move silently like a shadow, undetectable by any lurking danger or enemy, you become an unstoppable force. Your steps become whispers in the wind, leaving no trace of your presence behind."
Robinson stares. "That's impossible," he says. "The very imprint of the feet..."
"Observe," Kang says, and, removing his clogs, steps out onto the rice paper. He walks away from Robinson towards the end of the corridor. He returns to Robinson from the end of the corridor. He stands beside him and then puts on his clogs.
There is not a mark on the rice paper!
"You too will do this someday," Kang says.
Robinson shakes his head.312Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTlQRSy31ML
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He stands in the courtyard on a colder day, slants of light working their way in and out of the clouds, listening to Grand Master Min. Of all the grand masters Min is the most accessible. If Kim is the kindest, Kang the most dignified and knowledgeable, and Gu the most pedantic....then Min is the one with whom the disciples think they might be able to gather to talk as equals, if the protocol of the temple would permit this. Indeed, Min, at times, seems regretful that it does not.
"Listen closely, young ones," Min begins, his voice carrying a sense of intrigue. "In this world that we live in, there is a force greater than any man-made power. It is the way of nature, an intricate web that connects all living beings. Perceiving the way of nature means understanding that we are all part of something much larger than ourselves. It means recognizing the delicate balance that exists between every creature and every element of this world. You see, my young friends, when you truly comprehend this connection and embrace it with an open heart and mind, you become one with the universe, unlocking the infinite possibilities that lie within."
He removes his robes carefully, places them to one side, slung across a wall. Dressed just in trunks, he beckons towards Loon Woo, the disciple before Robinson.
"Come," he says to this disciple. "Attack me."
As he would not have months ago, the boy knows what to do. He charges at Min, full speed, Min reaches out a hand, still talking. "Let me share with you a valuable lesson about facing challenges in life. You see, just like waves crashing upon the shore, obstacles may come our way unexpectedly. But remember this: you do not always have to confront them head-on. Instead, sometimes it's wiser to find another path and avoid them altogether."
At the point of contact, Min steps aside gracefully, turns to take Loon Woo by the pit of the collarbone, and then, using the force of the boy's rush itself, turns his wrist and sends the disciple into the air. He lands many yards away, unhurt but gasping, and then pivots to listen with the others to Min who continues speaking as if nothing had happened.....which, Robinson thinks, in terms of the Aikido that Min is teaching, is really the case, after all.
"Only one needs to understand the power of redirection, young ones," Min is saying. "You see...." He pauses, and gestures toward Robinson, next on line. Robinson, unhesitatingly, runs full speed at Min. "Trying to stop a force head-on can be a daunting task, often leading to frustration and exhaustion. But redirecting it?" he hears Min say, "Ah, that is where true wisdom lies." Min says.
Before him, in one blinding motion, Min steps aside, sweeps an arm through the air and Robinson finds himself catapulted into the air. One instant of terror and then he is lying next to Loon Woo with no sensation of pain whatsoever. Min had not only blocked the advance, he had prepared the safest line of fall.
"When I say there are many ways to avert the physical actions of men," Min says, and now he beckons towards the remaining disciples as a group. "I mean that we can often find solutions that don't involve resorting to force or aggression." One by one, then the last two together, they run at him. Like a man stretching slightly to pick leaves from a high tree, Min pivots, reaches above his head, and sends the disciples scattering. All of them land within a few feet of Robinson but none of them atop any of the others.
"And," Min says, almost with an air of satisfaction. His proficiency has pleased him; he cannot, like the rest of the masters, utterly deny the delight which his own skill gives him.... evidence of humanity that Robinson finds moving and which, he suspects, Master Min does also, "These are the lessons that will shape you into a true hero, my young friend. You see, locating and protecting your ki is just the beginning of your journey towards greatness. It is the foundation upon which you will build your strength and resilience. But there are other qualities that must be cultivated within you, qualities that will guide you through life's challenges and make you a beacon of hope for others," Min says, his voice falling into the rhythms of litany, eyes half-closed. 'Every living being has its purpose, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant. It is our duty to protect and cherish all forms of life, for they are irreplaceable treasures. Instead of causing harm or destruction, let us learn the ways to preserve. When faced with a choice between destruction and preservation, always choose the latter. Seek harmony with nature and strive to leave a positive impact on the world around you. Sometimes, avoiding a harmful action altogether is the best course of action. If you can prevent harm by simply stepping back or finding an alternative path, then do so."
Robinson listens, as he has listened before, and when he has locked the words into his heart, says, "Grand Master, what then is the best way to deal with force?"
Min bows, showing his appreciation for the question. "As we prize peace and quiet above victory," he says, "it is crucial to understand that there is always a simple and preferred method to handle any mode of force directed towards us."
"And what is that, sir?" says another disciple.
"When your safety is paramount," Grand Master Min says ceremoniously, "it will be time for you to run away."312Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1vJCmoIje1
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With Kim, Robinson practices stick fighting. Bong Sul is intricate and stylized, but obviously deadly and usable in combat. Robinson holds the polished, three-foot oak staff in his right hand, probing for some entry into Kim's defense but the old blind man is not vulnerable; Robinson cannot penetrate his defenses. He thrusts again and again, faster and faster, calling upon his own developing ki, looking for that quickening point of entry but the old man knows too well how to protect himself. At last, exhausted, Robinson reproduces his efforts, strikes wildly in frustration....and Kim's stick comes through cleanly; and taps him on the chin. Robinson shouts in fury and then as Kim begins to smile he finds that he cannot sustain rage---not against himself, not against this old man---and so he begins to laugh. Kim laughs with him, a warm, rich sound which might, Robinson thinks, be that of a father with son rather than the grand master with a disciple, and then tosses his stick away. He motions for Robinson to touch him with his own and thus end the contest. Robinson does so, tapping the old man lightly on the ribs, and then disposing of his own stick. He finds that Kim's arm is on his shoulder now and they are walking through the garden, the hidden, elaborate garden of the monastery in which the roses of all colors bloom but only for the eyes of the grand masters and disciples. They walk down a short path and then stand before a bed of yellow roses in the sun. "Don't be concerned with bong sul, my dear boy," Kim says. "You see, being blind has its advantages. It forces one to develop extraordinary powers of defense that ordinary disciples could never comprehend. You possess incredible potential, Dragonfly. I have observed your skills and instincts closely. I daresay you could outmatch any ordinary disciple in their discipline. And who knows? Perhaps even challenge one or two of the masters themselves."
"You are too kind," Robinson says.
"I must admit, I am not too kind by nature. But even I cannot deny your remarkable development. You have proven yourself to be a true disciple, Dragonfly. You have come so close to reaching the pinnacle of mastery yourself. Your progress has been nothing short of impressive. I must inform you that your stay here," Kim says and reaches over, takes a flower, sniffs at it, and then holds it, " within these confines, shall not endure for much longer. Fear not, for your time here is drawing to a close."
"I have learned many things, old man."
"Your journey has taught you discipline and bestowed upon you a multitude of new abilities. But amidst all these newfound strengths, there is one crucial lesson I must impart to you - the life of a priest is a simple one. In the pursuit of greatness and personal growth, it is easy to lose sight of the importance of simplicity. Ambition can cloud our judgment and lead us astray from our true purpose. A priest's life demands humility, selflessness, and an unwavering commitment to serving others."
"Have you no ambition, Grand Master Kim?" Robinson asks. He has never asked a grand master such a personal question before but he feels no embarrassment nor does Kim seem to resent the question. He considers it for some time, twirling the flower between his fingers, his blind eyes turned more inward than ever before. "One," he says.
"What is that, old man?"
"Five years from now," Kim says slowly, "it is my fervent wish to embark on a pilgrimage to a place called Haeundae-ma-eul. It is a village nestled amidst rolling hills and serene landscapes. But what makes it truly remarkable is its deep reverence for priests – those who are believed to be conduits to the divine. And lo and behold, Dragonfly, within the magnificent Sunrise Pavilion, lies the grand spectacle known as the Sunlight Blessing Festival!"
"When will that be?"
"In the vast expanse of time, when the year 2407 dawns upon us," Kim says, his voice low. He tosses the flower gently to the ground, and folds his hands behind him, "on that fateful day of the third month, if by some miraculous twist of fate I am still gracing this mortal coil, I must confess my utmost desire to be present in that very moment. Oh, how my heart yearns for it!"
"That is not such a great ambition," Robinson says with a smile. "I cannot think that you will be judged so harshly, by the masters or by the ancients."
"It may not be the most virtuous of aspirations," Kim says with a little sigh, "but one cannot deny the allure of ambition. Even I must admit that ambition holds its own peculiar charm."
"Yes, it does."
"Pray tell, is there a soul in this vast world who can claim to be utterly untainted by imperfections?" Kim says and puts his hand on Robinson's shoulder again. He allows it to rest there. "Alas, we are all but mere mortals, burdened with our own unique set of flaws and follies." They walk through the garden together for hours but there is no sense of time. "Even I, your humble teacher, am not immune to such human frailties." Only the different shape of the light above the garden is an indication that the time has now come for private meditation.312Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhU2xKzK8EJ
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Robinson attempts the rice paper once more. He has passed all of the tests to be a grand master except for this one. Also, he realizes as one about to become a grand master that there is no such thing; there are only varying degrees of disciples. Even Grand Master Kang is but a novitiate within the temple; no lifetime or ten of them can encompass the ancients' wisdom. Nevertheless, by any standard which the grand masters of the temple have promulgated, Robinson has achieved virtually the status of completion. Only the rice paper remains.
He has tried it several times; most recently only a few days ago. At that time he did better than he ever had before but still, when he had completed his precarious journey down the corridor, there had been the delicate imprints of his feet upon the paper, just the suggestion of the outline of toe and heel which revealed to all the path of his flight. There would be no sure escape into or from the temple if he were to stain the rice paper and one who could not make that journey safely could not be a grand master. So Robinson tries yet again, divesting himself of his robes just as Min had in demonstrating Aikido, girding himself through the passage of the corridor.
At the first touch of toe to paper he understands everything. He understands why he had not been able to traverse the paper before and why this time he'll have no trouble. The paper is merely a reflection of the amount of ki within the walker at the time of transversal. If the ki is strong, then the spirit will elevate; the walker will literally lose contact with the transparency of rice paper, and be welded by ki to the stones below. He will be walking not on paper but stones then, his body at peace and at rest with that small interposition of paper. Of course, Robinson smiles. He should have seen all this before. But he sees it now.
Quickly, carefully, he moves down the corridor. It is as he has done in his dreams so many times, his feet not connecting with the rice paper but gliding on through. The difference is that in his dreams he has been walking above the paper but now he sees that he must bring his imprints down through. Quickly, foot to stone, he works his way through the corridor and then he reaches the end.
Turning, he surveys the unblemished strip of paper. Not a tear, not even a wrinkle.....A faint smile flickers across his face, and he walks away toward the altar to meditate.
Kneeling before the altar, Robinson is filled with deep contentment. The temple that took him in as a frightened, lonely 13-year-old has protected him, taught him and been father and mother to him for many years. And if its lessons have been hard, then passing its tests has been the more meaningful.
For a moment he thinks of his parents. His mother's early death has left him with only dim, isolated memories of a gentle, sweet-voice woman whose hanbok rustled as she moved, and his father----What was his father? Was he a tall man, a giant with a giant's shouting laugh? Anyway, what would they make of him now, himself a grown man who would soon be a Hwarangdo priest? They must've had plans for him. If they had remained in America, his father's country, what would his life have been there? Would he have known his father?
Robinson knows a little about America. Its western goldfields have been attracting Asian men who have hoped to return home rich. Yet the ships that carry them to America have not brought back many who had found their fortunes. Rather, their holds often contain the coffins of those whose last wish is being honored: burial in their native soil. Although they do not want to settle the raw new land, they go for the chance to improve their lot. San Francisco, Robinson understands, has a sizeable Asiatic population now.
What kind of person would he have been, if he had grown up in America? A Westerner? Or would he have learned from a homesick mother to yearn for the cultured, ancient land that had given her birth?
A man's life is written before his birth, and such questions have no answers. Robinson, still kneeling before the altar, empties his mind for meditation.
Aware that someone has entered behind him, he turns. It is Grand Master Kang; Robinson rises and goes over to him. Silently Kang opens his hand and shows Robinson the pebble in it. The ageless master and the young disciple search one another's eyes for a moment: affection, respect, pride, and a kind of sorrow show there.
This is the final test.
In a gesture so swift it is nearly imperceptible, Robinson's hand moves to Kang's.
The pebble fits into his palm as if it had always been there. He grasps it as he grasps his own other hand. He holds it to his side and then he brings that closed hand straight up against his robes.
Kang unfurls his empty palm.
The two of them look at the palm in the flickering light of the incense. Robinson knows what Kang is about to say but the knowledge is less anticipation than pain. Yet that too can be surmounted for if he rejects what he will hear now then all that has happened until now has been pointless, misdirected.....and he cannot mock what he has learned. He has become what he's learned. He holds that knowledge to him with grave and solemn joy.
"Farewell," Kang says.
Slowly a great retreats into the ceiling. There is a clang as the retraction is completed, and then Robinson looks into the passageway beyond. It is a corridor he's never seen before, and it is like looking into the unknown future.
Head bowed, he moves forward between the enormous statues that line the corridor. This is the end and the beginning. This is what his life has been leading toward, what he has been working for he can feel no exultation, just the impending grief for leaving, and a kind of fear. Is he really worthy to be a priest, he wonders.
At the entrance to the tunnel, he halts. Lined on either side are his teachers, the six grand masters he has been with for so long. They have folded back the sleeves of their robes; their arms are stretched out to show the marks. On the right forearm is the sign of the tiger; on each left, the sign of the dragon is drawn into the skin.
Robinson looks at them, and beyond them to the end of the tunnel where there is a chamber, a hallowed space devoted to the ancient practices of the Hwarango.312Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBGYe5qaUhv
Lowering their arms, the grand masters turn to face Robinson. Knowing it is the time, that he must leave them and take his place in the outside world, he bows deeply to them all. Silently they return his bow, then turn to leave.
Blind Grand Master Kim is the last to leave, and in a rush of love Robinson says to him, "Goodbye, old man, my grand master."
Kim pauses. "Tell me what you hear," he says gently.
It seems such a short time ago that Kim had first asked him that question. "I hear the dragonfly," Robinson answers and is rewarded by Kim's smile. Then Kim, too, leaves.
Robinson watches him for a minute, following the other grand masters up the statue-lined corridor to the grilled door. As it slides shut behind the grand masters, Robinson looks away from it to the tunnel's other exit---the door that is blocked by the chamber.
As he enters this place, a tranquil yet mysterious atmosphere envelops him. The room, dimly lit by flickering candles, casts shadows that seem to dance across the walls adorned with intricate tapestries depicting legendary warriors. The air carries the faint scent of incense, a fragrant offering to the spirits that lingered in the space.
In the center of the chamber, a low wooden table serves as the altar of Robinson's transformative ritual. On its polished surface, the instruments he is expected to use are meticulously arranged----a collection of tools that harken back to ancient times. Wooden handles affixed with sharp needles lie in purposeful disarray, each instrument a conduit for Robinson's connection to Taek Won Do. The handles show the wear of use, bearing witness to the countless stories etched into the flesh of those who came before him. Adjacent to the instruments, small ceramic jars containing the inks await their moment of transformation. The ink jars, their surfaces adorned with ornate patterns, hold pigments derived from natural sources---deep blacks, vibrant reds, and earthy browns. The hues are a testament to the organic nature of the process, connecting Robinson to the earth and the history ingrained in every drop of ink. The jars, lined up in a sacred sequence, seem to resonate with the energy of the symbols they hold within, awaiting the priest's touch to bring them to life.
As Robinson approaches the table, the ambient light flickering against the golden tones of the chamber reveals the intricate designs adorning the walls---a visual tapestry telling the tales of Hwarangdo warriors who had undergone similar rituals in centuries past. The chamber, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, awaits Robinson's initiation into the ancient art, an intimate communion between the present and the enduring legacy of the Hwarangdo. Seated in a state of focused meditation, Robinson begins the meticulous process of selecting the symbol of the dragon for his right arm. The needle's sharp point meets his skin, and the ink seeps into the epidermis as a manifestation of his commitment to the martial path. With each puncture, the ancient symbols come to life, transforming his arm into a canvas of warrior ethos and spiritual resilience. Across the hallowed chamber, the flickering light casts shadows on Robinson's face as he shifts his attention to his left arm. The sign of the tiger. The rhythmic sound of the needle piercing his skin echoes through the chamber, each stroke an intimate dance between pain and purpose. As the tattoo progresses, Robinson's determination mirrors the stoic nature of the tiger he emblazoned upon his flesh.
The process is not without its share of discomfort; the pain is a visceral reminder of the commitment required to bear the sacred symbols. With each completed stroke, Robinson embraces the agony as an integral part of his journey—a journey that intertwines the spiritual with the physical, uniting the symbols of dragon and tiger on his skin as a testament to his unwavering dedication to the Hwarangdo path.312Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡG4LoZZXjTs
The door swings open, letting in a dazzling shaft of light. Robinson turns toward the door, his arms raised. The dragon and tiger are now coiled on his arms, symbols of his commitment, resilience, and the enduring legacy of the Hwarangdo. Beyond the door, the sun is glittering on fresh, unmarked snow. He walks through it, then falls forward into it, the cold pressing into the pain of his tattoos, easing it away.
After a moment he rises and moves off, leaving his monastery life behind. 312Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQrzQnho3BR
