![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I had the pleasure of hearing an interesting story today, that I will share with those reading this journal now to the best of my ability.
Once, a long time ago, a warrior was quietly eating his supper in a small inn. As he ate, four flies circled him, buzzing around his head and food, but the master calmly ignored them and continued eating his rice.
In the midst of his meal, three warriors who served no master entered the inn and sat near him. These men looked at the man as he ate and grew envious, for hanging at his side were two magnificent swords. So exquisitely crafted were they, these fine swords, that they represented a small fortune. A look of intense satisfaction came over the faces of the masterless warriors as they observed this, for the owner of these fine weapons seemed to be alone and defenseless against all three of them.
As the lone warrior continued to eat, the three men began to loudly mock him. They hoped to provoke him into a duel with them by forcing him to defend his honor. In this way they planned to kill him and take his fine swords. But the man remained unmoved by their words and continued eating, seeming to take no notice of them at all.
This angered the three warriors and their words grew more hateful. The most acrid curses they could imagine were hurled at the warrior. They insulted his ancestry, his skills, and his appearance. Crude remarks were made about his relationship with women... and men. Every attempt possible was made to provoke the lone warrior into a fight in defense of his honor. And it was at this point that the warrior stopped eating.
Slowly he raised his eyes to the flies circling his head and watched them for a moment as they buzzed around his face. Then, without warning, he lifted his hand and struck. Four quick, precise snaps of his chopsticks were made, catching each fly from the air. Then, the man delicately put down his utensils. Through all this he never so much as glanced at the boors insulting him. A heavy silence followed his actions.
Looking at each other, the three masterless warriors realized that before them was a man of formidable skill. If this man had the focus to catch flies on the wing so effortlessly, there was no way they could hope to match him in battle. Frightened, the men rose and fled from the inn, leaving the lone warrior in peace at last.
In the version of this story that I had the pleasure to hear, the name of this warrior was said to have been Miyamoto Musashi.
I hope that I have told this story as it was meant to be told, and that those reading this entry find value in the telling.
Once, a long time ago, a warrior was quietly eating his supper in a small inn. As he ate, four flies circled him, buzzing around his head and food, but the master calmly ignored them and continued eating his rice.
In the midst of his meal, three warriors who served no master entered the inn and sat near him. These men looked at the man as he ate and grew envious, for hanging at his side were two magnificent swords. So exquisitely crafted were they, these fine swords, that they represented a small fortune. A look of intense satisfaction came over the faces of the masterless warriors as they observed this, for the owner of these fine weapons seemed to be alone and defenseless against all three of them.
As the lone warrior continued to eat, the three men began to loudly mock him. They hoped to provoke him into a duel with them by forcing him to defend his honor. In this way they planned to kill him and take his fine swords. But the man remained unmoved by their words and continued eating, seeming to take no notice of them at all.
This angered the three warriors and their words grew more hateful. The most acrid curses they could imagine were hurled at the warrior. They insulted his ancestry, his skills, and his appearance. Crude remarks were made about his relationship with women... and men. Every attempt possible was made to provoke the lone warrior into a fight in defense of his honor. And it was at this point that the warrior stopped eating.
Slowly he raised his eyes to the flies circling his head and watched them for a moment as they buzzed around his face. Then, without warning, he lifted his hand and struck. Four quick, precise snaps of his chopsticks were made, catching each fly from the air. Then, the man delicately put down his utensils. Through all this he never so much as glanced at the boors insulting him. A heavy silence followed his actions.
Looking at each other, the three masterless warriors realized that before them was a man of formidable skill. If this man had the focus to catch flies on the wing so effortlessly, there was no way they could hope to match him in battle. Frightened, the men rose and fled from the inn, leaving the lone warrior in peace at last.
In the version of this story that I had the pleasure to hear, the name of this warrior was said to have been Miyamoto Musashi.
I hope that I have told this story as it was meant to be told, and that those reading this entry find value in the telling.
