Once
upon a time in the heart of the western kingdom lay a beautiful garden.
And there in the cool of the day the master of the garden went for a walk.
Of all the dwellers of the garden, the most beautiful and most beloved was a
gracious and noble Bamboo. Year after year, Bamboo grew yet more
beautiful and gracious. He was conscious of his master's love and
watchful delight, yet he was modest and in all things gentle.
One day, the master drew near to look at his Bamboo with eyes of curious expectancy. And Bamboo in a passion of love bowed his great head to the ground in joyful greeting. The master spoke:
"Bamboo,
I would use you."
Bamboo flung his head to the sky. The day of days has been growing hour by hour, the day in which he would find his completion and destiny! His voice came low:
"Master,
I am ready, use me as you want."
"Bamboo," the master's voice was grave. "I would be obliged to take you and cut you down."
A
trembling of great horror shook Bamboo. "Cut… me… down? Me whom
you, master, have made the most beautiful in all your garden? To cut me down,
ah, not that, not that. Use me for your joy, oh master, but cut me not down."
"Beloved Bamboo," the master's voice grew graver still. "If I do not cut you down, then I cannot use you."
There
came a whisper. "Master, if you cannot use me unless you cut me down,
then do your will and cut."
"Bamboo,
beloved Bamboo, I would cut your leaves and branches from you also."
"Master,
spare me. Cut me down and lay my beauty in the dust, but would you
take from me my leaves and branches also?"
"Bamboo, alas! If I do not cut them away, I cannot use you." The sun hid her face.
Bamboo
said: "Master, cut away."
"Bamboo,
I would divide you in two and cut your heart, for if I do not cut so, I
can't use you."
"Master, master, then cut and divide."
So
the master of the garden took Bamboo and cut him down and hacked off his
branches and stripped off his leaves and divided him in two and cut out his
heart and lifting him gently, carried him to where there was a spring of
fresh sparkling water in the midst of the master's dry fields. Then
putting down one end of broken bamboo into the spring and the other end into
the water channel in his field, the master laid down his beloved Bamboo.
The
spring sang welcome. The clear sparkling water raced joyously down the
channel of Bamboo's torn body into the waiting fields. Then the rice
was planted and the days went by. The shoots grew. The harvest came.
In that day was Bamboo once so glorious in his stately beauty, yet more
glorious in his humility. In his brokenness he became a channel of
abundant life.
