24 August.
     In the evening Dan tse resumed his talk about "the flight of a butterfly".
    "I have not explained to you everything about this teaching. After all it is impossible to express everything in words. There are such details which can only be grasped on the subtle, intuitive level. So, time is required to crack this hard nut and to discover what is inside."
   "Don’t be too eager to display your expertise," Dan Tse warned me, "the teaching of a butterfly is highly unusual. The seeming clarity is deceptive. A weak pupil has the disadvantage of understanding the knowledge given to him only on a purely theoretical level. He misses its application. Therefore knowledge not followed through with appropriate action is actually dead knowledge."

I asked him, "What are you leading to?"

He replied, "That knowledge, be it theoretical or practical, always has its opposite side. And the case of  'the flight of a butterfly' reveals this well."

"What is its opposite side? " I asked.

"The seven principles I've related to you thus far aren't all that bears consideration. They are only a part of a more complicated system."

Dan Tse seemed to be talking in circles, so I pressed him for a more direct explanation.

"The fact is," he continued patiently, "if you govern yourself using half-baked principles, society will ultimately reject you. For example, it's foolish to remain imperceptible, just as it's foolish to continually ignore the reactions of another person. An alternative solution is to find the golden mean: to be imperceptible yet simultaneously to be available to anybody, to make oneself conspicuous. Intrinsically not to respond to reactions of other person, but outwardly to empathize, to listen, even if you are not personally interested in his story."

"But that sounds hypocritical to me," I objected.

"Not at all. The person practising 'the flight of a butterfly' acts sincerely, but doesn't waste energy in futile emotional experiences or scruples, as in the case with 'lie and truth', do you remember?"

"Of course. Yet I still don't understand—it's possible to be simultaneously observable and imperceptible?"

"Doesn't a butterfly achieve that? It is she who personifies that principle," Dan Tse convinced me, "watch her flight – it is unnoticeable, elusive because of its peculiarities. Yet, her brightly decorated wings, by contrast, force us to catch sight of her and adore her beauty. That’s why she suddenly appears in our sight, and as suddenly disappears."

"But how do we emulate such behaviour?" I still did not understand.

"We have come to a most important question for a seeker of knowledge. I refer to action a nd non-action."

"What’s that?" I inquired.

"After all, words are here inappropriate,"Dan tse responded thoughtfully, "but for the present there is no way to explain. Nonaction…," Dan Tse suddenly stopped and looked at me, "I won’t give you any definitions. Instead, I’ll explain by way of an example. I’ll tell you a parable, which is necessary to understand not with rational thought, but intuitively, with the help of experience."

"I will try. Though it is difficult for me, "  I admitted.

"On the one hand, the story is simple, but on the other, is very complicated because it has concealed within it an underlying theme," Dan tse noted before proceeding with the tale.

"In one of the monasteries lived a young monk. Nothing distinguished him from the large number of his brothers, except, maybe, his diligence. Since his childhood he began to learn secrets of different crafts, repairs; any job, working from early mornings till late in the night. He could do different things,but the highest level his skill reached in stonecutting and sculpture. He felt happy with such work. Every free minute, but mainly in the night, the monk sat in his cell and began to add a graceful line to a formless stone, cutting, drilling, grinding, polishing every minute detail of his creations.

"As I’ve already said, he worked diligently, so that after several years he accumulated an enormous number of statues, that nearly filled his whole cell. One day, at that monastery a wounded merchant was brought for assistance. He always carried goods to the nearest city, but on the road he was attacked by bandits, who robbed him of his goods and almost killed him.The poor wounded man was discovered by monks who brought him back to the monastery.  The very monk who liked to cut statues cared for the wounded merchant. And in a month the merchant recovered. Overflowing with thanks he decided to compensate the monk for his care. In his life money was of paramount importance and, it is necessary to say, he was lucky – his commerce practically knew no failures.

" 'I’ll pay you well,' he told the monk, 'otherwise I’ll feel myself an ungrateful rascal, unable to truly value myself.'

" 'It is not necessary, what is money to a monk?' his rescuer answered modestly, 'but besides, wouldn’t you do the same for me?'

"The Merchant, seeing that he couldn’t thank his rescuer, was very disappointed. Before leaving, he came to the monk’s cell to say good-bye. The Merchant had yet to visit the monk in his cell, even though he had lived in the monastery a long time during his recovery. He was dumbfounded to see a whole storehouse of splendid stone statuettes. One was better the another. The monk was quite reticent and did not like to boast about his works, considering them to be simply an avocation. So the merchant, thinking the monk was only a local healer, had not suspected his rescuer's true and hidden talent.

" 'This is a real treasure!' the merchant, astonished, picked up a nearby statuette and dusted it off.

" 'I haven't shown anyone my works,' the monk felt embarrassed.

" 'And you were wrong not to! I haven’t seen such fine work in my entire life, even though I often sell beautiful artworks. You are an unparalleled master!' the merchant convinced him sincerely, 'but what do you do with all these statuettes? Do you really hide them here?

" 'Yes,' the monk replied nonchalantly.

" 'And nobody knows about your talent?

" 'I thought of that,' the monk said, confused once more by the attention, 'but came to the conclusion that recognition is not important. After all, I’m a monk, it is impossible for me to seek fame. Once in a while I view my creations and every time I try to do them better, to obtain the skill to bring the stone to life.'

" 'Don’t consider this an insult, but you are naive,' the merchant reproached him, 'you toiled from dusk to dawn, became a great master, but except for tatters you gained nothing. I won’t leave, until I can persuade you to give me several statuettes, not as a gift, but for sale.'

" 'Take almost all, if you think that people will like them,' the monk answered him genially, 'I’ve already said that I don’t need money.'

"No,' the merchant insisted, 'I’ll take the statuettes only on condition that all money earned from their sale I’ll can bring you in gratitude for my treatment.'

"They haggled for a long time, but finally, the monk agreed to the merchant’s terms. They weighed all statuettes on a cart, and the merchant went in the search for good luck at the nearest market. Hardly had he put up for sale several of the statuettes, than an enormous crowd gathered around him, eager to buy. In one day he sold, at the highest prices, the whole cart of statuettes. He returned, with a huge sum of money, to the monastery.

" 'You won't believe me,' he shouted with glee to the monk, 'your statuettes were a great success, you’ve become a rich man.'

" 'I have more,' the monk was inspired, though he had no interest in money, but he liked the acknowledgement, 'you may sell the rest, and I’ll carve more.'

" 'Leave all your other commitments and make the statuettes,' – the merchant couldn’t stop, – 'but if the abbot is displeased, donate part of the money to the monastery, and he will quiet down. Since you have now enough money.

"So little by little, day by day the merchant and the monk set to their task. Now the monk didn’t need to follow the monastery's routines, he even ceased daily prayers, and nobody reproached him – after all, he donated enormous money to the monastery. Day and night he carved and polished the stone, and the merchant was constantly on the road trading in cities, making tremendous profits.

"Soon they abandoned the monastery and settled in a city, having bought a big piece of land with a splendid house. The monk wasn’t disappointed at all that had left the monastery, since he had been there since he was a small boy, brought there by his parents. They had had no money to feed their children and so gave the smallest son to monks, saving him from starvation.

"Now the ex-monk had his workshop, apprentices and journeymen. Their business prospered, since the sought-after statuettes were highly prized. They were considered to bring good luck, and even to cure some diseases.

"The ex-monk got married and had children. He even bought several concubines. High officials of the city were his friends. Money opened all doors to him.

"Years passed. The ex-monk became ever more wealthy. He seemed to attain everything desired in life, and his skill didn’t decrease one bit. He continued to make real masterpieces, not avoiding work as a simple master, though less and less time was spent in his workshop, for he was constantly concerned with other matters: meeting important people, attending dinner-parties, hosting banquets, enduring boring and foolish conversations, supervising his household, and more.

"And our rich man got bored. He suddenly remembered his youth, when he selflessly worked in the monastery, completely immersing himself in his avocation. He at once understood that the work did not bring him the usual joy as before. Now, there was no excitement, no absorption, with which he embellished and adorned each creation. Now he worked not for himself, but to fill orders. Yet everything he did had a great success, since everybody wanted to buy his products.

"He locked himself in the workshop and, alleging an urgent and expensive order, did not come out for several days. He tried to comprehend his life. He wanted to return to his inner state of being lost in his work. He felt that he had forgotten how to experience the most important part of his spirit– the longing for perfection.

"Having collect a little meal and a bit of cloth, our hero bid farewell to his family, explaining that he left on business. First he wanted to return to the monastery, but there they would hardly forgive the renegade for his sinful life that he led over these last years. Besides that, the members of his family would easily find him in the monastery.

"So the monk sought refuge in the mountains. He wanted solitude and in mountains he would have a ready supply of material for his cherished avocation. Of course, he would have to lead impoverished existence, but that did not scare him, after all since his childhood he was accustomed to be thankful for small mercies.

"So, our hero settled in mountains. Once again he returned to his lost spirit, tranquility, a sensation of wholeness, when with trembling hand he took a piece of a stone and began to carve into it the outlines of a new statuette.

"Though his eyes had lost their keen sight, his hands nonetheless knew their calling to perfection. He, with bated breath, nearly having forgot about the chill and the hunger, was cutting one statuette, a second, a third, and suddenly stopped.

" 'What am I doing?' he asked himself, 'once again I begin to accumulate my statuettes, until a new wheeler-dealer appears and offers me money for them? Oh, no, this won’t be so! But what should I do with them then?'

"The monk took the new statuette and slowly approached an abyss. Before him stretched a beautiful valley, covered with morning mist.

" 'Yes! ' he exclaimed gladly and, outstretching his hands, released the statuette, listening for the sound of the fallen stone, but did not hear it. With great pleasure he did the same with the second and with the rest of the statuettes, watching as they disappeared somewhere down in the hazy blue mists.

" 'Good heavens, what happiness! 'the monk couldn’t contain his joy, 'why wasn’t I able to understand this sooner?'

"Since that day he carved his statuettes, perfecting his skill. It is possible to say that he had never endeavored so, as now. And at once, after finishing his work, he approached the abyss and tossed his masterpieces down into the chasm.

"So the master spent the rest of his life, though he had never previously felt such joy, as in these last years, " Dan tse ended his story.

"I am amazed by this parable," I broke the silence, "I seemed to me that I lived through the life of the monk.

"Your feelings tell you, what is action and nonaction.

"Maybe, I’ve understood," I whispered.

"Purpose without purpose, action in inaction, knowledge in silence…"

The sun has disappeared beneath the horizon. Twilight. I felt a heat beside me from my seated teacher. Silent, his stony stare fixed forward, he had become petrified,  as if transformed into one of the monk's statuettes.

I was too shocked by what I had lived through today… I would give everything in my life to be just a minute more in my teacher's company and to hear his tale. Yet at the same time I understood that, as miserable, as imperfect as I am in contrast to him, I may not even have a right to inherit such wisdom as what he shared with me.

I stood up quietly and ambled down the path.

Dan tse still sat motionless at the edge of the bottomless abyss…

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