14 Aug “A boatman told it to me” (JORGE & DEMIAN BUCAY)
It is said that Lao Tzu, the greatest master in all of China, once disappeared from the temple where he lived and spoke on a daily basis to the thousands of disciples who would sit in the gardens waiting eagerly for his teachings. For weeks, his oldest disciples searched for him in the surrounding area before sending emissaries to look for him throughout all of China. None of the efforts to find him were successful. No one knew where he had gone or why he had left. No one had seen him.
Months later, a businessman was waiting on a dock for the boat that would take him across the great Min River in Sichuan province. Night was falling when the simple boat reached the shore, and the boatman held out his hand to help the passenger get in. The man paid for the trip with a coin and settled in for the crossing, which would take a few hours. The old boat operator took the money, put it in his pocket, and with a gesture of thanks unmoored them.
The river was serene and the moon, huge and luminous in the sky, invited conversation. Perhaps that’s why the traveler began to share concerns about his family, teenage children, and business ventures; the boatman listened to what the traveler had to say, and the comments he wove into the conversation were so sensible and wise that they surprised the man.
When they reached the port, as the traveler prepared to leave, he handed the boatman another coin for his advice, and it was accepted with humility. It was then that the passenger first saw and recognized the face of the man who had brought him across the river. “It’s you!” he said.
“You’re Lao Tzu … What are you doing here? Half of China is looking for you. Your students are losing hope, but no one is willing to give up your masterful daily teachings.”
“For reasons that have nothing to do with what I desire, I have become too well-known,” said Lao Tzu. “Thousands of people travel from afar to listen to me, ask questions, seek help, and my reputation as a wise and illuminated man has spread to the point where the truth that occasionally comes out of my mouth has become less important than the fact that I’m the one who says it.”
The passenger didn’t grasp the meaning of Lao Tzu’s parting words and countered him: “But, master, we can’t live without you and your wisdom. There are many of us who need your words, your light, your advice.”
Lao Tzu smiled and said, “I am saying the same things as when I was at the temple, and I believe they have the same effect on those who listen. But fortunately, now when someone returns home and tells of what they have learned, instead of saying with an exaggerated air that they heard it from Lao Tzu, they just say, ‘A boatman told it to me’.”
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