The Tortoise and the Zen Garden
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The Zen Stone free porn video
The Zen Stone
By Ellie Dauber (c) 2002
Having created the Zen Stone as an open universe, I guess I have to write a
story about it.
***
Osaka Prefecture, Summer 1547
The setting sun made long shadows across the courtyard of the school.
Supper was over, and most of the students had returned to their rooms for
meditation -- or just a chance to relax a bit before sleep. The sound of a
flute echoes out from one building and across the courtyard. A few of the
more boisterous -- or less disciplined -- students were at the drinking
house down the road, not far from the school. They were sampling the wares
of the house and lying to themselves and to any who would listen about their
prowess.
A single student remained in the courtyard. Yoshi Tomasura was repeating an
intricate kata, a series of 40 separate movement, some used as many as five
times at different points in the long sequence. It took almost a half hour
to complete. Yoshi was in doing the third of the six repetitions he planned
to go through before he went to bed.
"Try to extend your arms just a bit more during 'Kingfisher Rises to the
Sun.' It will make the transition to 'Grasses Sway in the Eastern Wind'
that much more elegant." The voice was deep and authoritative.
Yoshi stopped in mid sequence and bowed. "Master, I did not hear you come
into the courtyard."
The Master, a tall thin man in a simple blue robe, returned the bow. "If
you had, then _I_ would be the student and you the master." His long
angular face broke into a thoughtful smile. "Although that day may come
soon enough."
Yoshi was stunned. "M-Master, your words do me the greatest of honors." He
bowed again. "One I am not certain that I deserve."
"If I exaggerated, it was only slight. Your moves, technically, are all but
flawless. It may be time, I think, for you to move beyond the mere physical
Art to the inner techniques and philosophies of my Order."
"Master! This is -- I -- do you truly think that I am ready?" The Master
had taught many students in the years Yoshi had been with him, but Yoshi
remembered only one, now a monk in Edo, who had been a student of the Inner
Truths of the Order.
"Whether you are worthy is a question that you -- not I -- shall answer. Go
back to your room and think about what you have learned, what you would wish
to learn, and how you would use that knowledge. In the morning, the answer
shall make itself known."
Yoshi bowed. "Thank you, Master. I will try to be worthy of the honor that
you have given me."
The Master returned the bow. "Take this." He handed Yoshi a small round
stone no bigger than a man's hand. It was a single, solid piece of quartz,
but of two colors, white and smoky black, that formed the traditional
'Yin/Yang' symbol of balance. "Place it by your sleeping mat. It is a sign
that you are being tested, and none will bother you until morning."
Yoshi bowed again. "It will be as you said." He hurried back to his
"room", a screened-off area in the dormitory that was his right as a senior
level student. He placed the stone at the foot of his sleeping mat. He
hung his kimono on a hook and sat down on the mat. The words of the Master,
his understandable praise for Yoshi's skills, ran through the young man's
mind.
After a time, Yoshi's head began to nod. He lay down on the mat and began
to snore softly.
A dream came to Yoshi in the middle of the night, the dream of Maki, a
peasant girl with a moon-shaped face and soft brown eyes. He saw her
stretched out asleep in a corner of her parent's hut. Her soft linen
garment did little to hide her womanly curves. She was far below him in
class, but her beauty was suitable for an evening of pleasure.
Yoshi knew somehow that the girl was dreaming. He could sense her dream as
if it were his own. She was dreaming of him -- no, she was dreaming that
she _was_ him. Yoshi smiled in his sleep, bemused by the odd dream within a
dream.
Dawn. Somewhere, a rooster crowed to welcome the rising sun. Yoshi heard
the sound, but he rolled over in his sleep and continued to dream. Maki,
the peasant girl, heard it as well. She opened her eyes and sat up.
The paper screens that had been Yoshi's "room" now leaned against the wall.
The space they had enclosed was empty. There was no evidence that Yoshi
Tomasura had ever been at the school, no memory of him among his fellow
students.
How could there be? There had never been a Yoshi Tomasura. Even the couple
who had been his parents would swear to that. Yoshi was only the
half-remembered dream of Maki Yamoto, a pretty peasant girl, who smiled at
the fading memory of the dream, as she dutifully prepared breakfast for her
aging parents.
The Master felt Yoshi fade from his own memory. It was a shame; the boy had
been worthy in many ways. His father, however, was a major functionary in
the court of the local baron. This way, the Master would not dishonor
himself by pretending that the man had never had a third son.
Maki Yamoto was married after a time into a local samurai clan. Her beauty
and grace excused the difference in class. She had nine children, and a
great grandson was made a baron for his services to the Shogunate.
The Master died in his sleep in the fullness of years. Many of his
possessions were donated to a local shrine. Others were distributed among
his students. No one noted what became of a small, white and black quartz
token.
***
Tokyo Harbor, November 1945
Sam Haskins hurried up the gangplank that lead to the deck of the U.S.S.
Essex. He stopped just before he stepped onto the deck and saluted the
American flag flying above the bridge. Even a Negro messboy like him was
subject to Navy regulations. Serving dinner to White officers hadn't been
what he had in mind, when he'd signed up in 1942, but, at least, he could
say that he'd served on the Essex. Besides, his battle station was as a
loader for one of the forward guns, so he _had_ seen action, too.
Sam made his way to the storeroom near the galley that served as quarters
for the eight messboys. It was late enough that he wouldn't be needed till
morning. He stowed the packages that he'd brought with him, some last
minute souvenirs, in his footlocker. Then he stripped down to his skivvies
and climbed into his hammock.
The Essex was just getting under way as he fell asleep. The ship would be
in San Diego in a few days. Then it was "separation" from the Navy and a
long train ride back to Georgia. He had a question that he wanted to ask
Esther, the girl whose photo was taped to the wall next to his hammock.
One of the souvenirs in Sam's footlocker was a black and white piece of
quartz, that he'd bought on a whim without really knowing why. The magics
placed in it centuries before became active, reaching into Sam's mind.
Sam was dreaming, not of Esther, but of some nurse there on the Essex with
him. She was a White nurse, which could only mean trouble. More than one
Negro sailor got beaten up when his White shipmates thought he was looking
at a White female. The nurse, Jenny Ryan, was a cute little redhead with
big green eyes and legs like Betty Grable.
Somehow, Sam couldn't shake the dream. He saw her lying on a bunk up in
"officers' country", wearing only a pair of white cotton panties and a
matching bra that strained against her breasts. She was asleep, dreaming,
too, judging by the smile. He could see her dream. She was dreaming of
being with -- no, of being a man. A Negro man; she was dreaming of being
_him_. Sam didn't understand. He shook his head in his sleep, but he
continued the strange dream.
About 4:30, the Essex passed a British frigate sailing into Japanese waters.
The two ships sounded horns by way of greetings. Sam heard the horns.
So did Jenny in his dream. Sam blinked and woke up. He felt his morning
"stiffy," and vaguely remembered that he'd been dreaming about some woman.
"Better not tell Esther," he whispered. "Even if it _was_ Esther he'd been
dreaming about; not if he was dreaming about her in _that_ way. He smiled
as he climbed out of the hammock. It was late enough to dress and get ready
to help with breakfast.
Sam never noticed that the quartz paperweight was gone. It lacked the magic
to transport itself back to Nippon, but there were others on the ship worthy
of being tested. A marine staff sergeant, a lieutenant j.g., a hospitalized
Army corporal, and two other seaman were the brief but unknowing possessors
of the stone. The Essex docked at San Diego with a nursing contingent that
was three women larger than when it had left Japan, even though all three
women had always been there.
Sam Haskins used his G.I. benefits to become a teacher. He wound up
teaching history in the only Negro high school in his home county. He was
active in the civil rights movement and among the first Negroes in his part
of Georgia to be successfully registered and to vote. His son, Sam, Jr., is
a member of the State Legislature.
The End
Author's Closing Notes: The word "Negro" is used for the sake of historical
accuracy. It was the term that Blacks in the period used to describe
themselves. Throughout the story, I tried to use the HISTORICALLY correct
terms.
During World War II, Black soldiers even got into fights for having pin-up
pictures of White movie stars.
This story can be posted to any FREE site. It's written, in part, to show
how I think the Zen Stone works. Not how it works, but how _I_ think it
works.
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