The Brave Old World — -the swordsman, willowman, and shoeman
Standing at the bow of the leaping boat, the swordsman remained steadfast above the swirling water. He was so absorbed in the scene along the river, when his beloved sword dropped to the water under the boat, he felt nothing nor heard. The prolonged none-responsive seconds prompted a fellow passager behind him to remind him, “You have dropped your sword to the river, the water is moving fast. You have lost some time, but if you jump now you might still have the chance to find it.”
The swordsman moved, still in an exceptional composure. But instead of jumping into the river, he took out a little knife and cut a mark at the boat's edge. “This is where my sword has fallen,” he murmured.
Utterly confused, more passengers joined to alert him. “What are you doing? Come on, jump into the river and look for your damn sword.”
“Easy. I have the mark,” responded the swordsman, touching the fresh mark at the boat side.
The boat moved along the strong current. But the fellow passengers persisted. “You are leaving your sword behind. You will lose it forever if you don’t jump now,” they almost shouted.
“Don’t worry. The mark will never lose,” the swordsman’s calmness didn’t waver.
No sooner did the boat hit the dock, than the swordsman jumped into the river right over the carved mark. Fumbling in the water for a long time, he came back to the boat empty-handed. Touching the fresh scar at the boat, he appeared utterly bewildered. “I am sure this is where my sword fell. But I can’t find it. How odd!”
He attributed the unexpected loss to his poor knowledge of the local water. About 500 feet away from the dock, sitting under a large willow tree, was a local farmer. The swordsman hired him for the scout which, of course, ended up in vain.
Coming back from the errand, the farmer tended to his own business — sitting under a willow tree and waiting for a leaping rabbit. He was sort of lost how many days he had been sitting there, though the memory of the cause still vivid and hopeful. Before that, he was a hard-working farmer, riveted to the soil around the willow tree every day. One day he was startled by a crashing sound — next to the willow trunk lay a rabbit, neck broken and dead. Obviously, a dashing rabbit killed itself by hitting the willow tree. After a delicious rabbit meal, he was inspired by a new business — waiting for the rabbits hitting the tree again, whether by accident or intent on suicide. He dropped the hoe and came to sit next to the willow tree every day, eagle and firm. But not many rabbits showed up ever since, let alone one hitting the tree. Soon the jokes in the neighborhood hit him before a second rabbit hit the tree. His neighbors called him “the willowman”.
At least, one day he saw a running human on the road. Rush as he was, he wasn’t a prey as much as did he not look reckless or intent on suicidal. ‘Don’t rush, my friend. But what’s made you so hasty?“ shouted the farmer, or the willowman. The long, boring waiting days had increased his interest in everything around the willow tree.
“I am rushing for my shoes,” answered the passerby. “I have planned to buy a pair of shoes. Before l left home this morning, I measured my feet carefully and made a stick with the accurate size. Then I got to the shoe store and picked the shoes I like. When picking the size, I found I’d left the measure stick at home.”
“I ran back home and found the stick. Here it is. Now I must rush to the store before it’s closed,” the last words faded away as the shoeman ran along the road, holding a little stick in hand.
The willowman resumed his business, sitting and waiting. When it was dark, he saw the shoeman walk back, apparently dejected. “Hi, have you got your shoes?”
“No. The shoe shop was already closed. What a harsh day!”
“Why didn’t you measure your feet again at the store in the first place?” The willowman almost couldn’t hold his chuckling.
“Don’t be stupid. I would rather trust the measure stick than my own feet.”
— -Reading these stories, I can’t help but imagine a brave old world where some whimsical behavior of us would never go away. They just stay in different forms at different times.
