An “Unworthy” Master

Translated from the original French text by Grand Master Nam Anh, 1999

After ten years apart, I finally met Lục Bình Đạo Nhân again. Though already past a hundred years of age — one hundred and nine — the Grand Master had not changed in the slightest, his hair still worn in the Taoist topknot, now bleached white by the passage of time. In one hand he held an old pipe, carved from the shoulder bone of an ill-fated bandit who had crossed paths with the Grand Master some eighty years prior. In the other hand was his Iron Bamboo staff — twisted and gnarled, its joints warped and knotted — with an enormous gourd hanging from its tip. The Grand Master gave the Iron Bamboo staff a gentle shake, and the rattling of rings fashioned from human bones — worn on his two bony wrists — rang out once more. The Grand Master’s legendary exploits brought to mind the heroic tales of a wandering knight from the early part of the century, who had roamed alone along the Vietnamese-Chinese border, striking terror into the hearts of bandits, outlaws, and corrupt officials alike.

For many days in a row, Master and student were absorbed in conversation deep into the night — until the fire in the hearth had burned to ash and the wine in the gourd had run dry. The Grand Master sat there before me — the image of an aged Taoist sage with a childlike smile and eyes that always seemed to peer straight through to the very depths of one’s soul. The Grand Master spoke in a deep and warm voice that roused me from my reverie:

— My child, with the skill and knowledge you have cultivated, tell me what you have achieved in the West. But first, answer these questions of mine:

— Do you still transmit teachings to your disciples without explanation?

— No, Master, I do not. On the contrary — I have spent far more breath going around in circles trying to explain things to them.

In the midst of pouring tea from an earthenware pot, the Grand Master suddenly paused.

— And do you still curse and scold them harshly?

— No, Master. Now I must always offer praise in order to encourage them.

The Grand Master’s thick, snow-white eyebrows drew together until they nearly met, his gaze deep and penetrating:

— And do you still give them a slap or a kick when they do something wrong?

— I would not dare, Master! That method is no longer applicable here!

The Grand Master let out a long sigh, his gaze drifting far into the distance:

— Then you have become an “Unworthy” Master. Who knows when the West will ever produce someone capable of reaching the level of a true Grand Master…

Grand Master Nam Anh