totally fourteen masters in the history of China who have reached the divine level of mastery in their particular fields of creativity. They are: Du Kang of wine, Confucius of Classics, Sima Qian of history, Du Fu of poetry, Zhang Zhong Jing of medicine, Guan Yu of martial arts, Wang Xi Zhi of calligraphy; Zhang Xu of the 'kuang-cao' or wild cursive script, Wu Dao-zi of painting, Lu Yu of tea ceremony, Sun Wu of the war art, Zhang Liang of strategy, Zhang Heng of carpentry and applied science, and Sun Si Miao of pharmaceutics. If you want to find a deity of swordsmanship, the master No.1, certainly, is General Pei Min who completely deserves his honourable title. According to "The History of Tang-period Arts," when his mother passed away, Pei Min addressed a request to the famously known artist Wu Dao-zi to paint the walls in the Tian-gong Temple to mark his mother's salvation. Wu Dao-zi said: "I have not painted for long, and if I have to draw for General Pei, he has first to perform his swordplay I could be inspired. . ." Upon hearing this, in no time Pei Min drew his sword and rounded to the left and to the right, like a galloping fine horse, absolutely unstoppable; all the space around was filled up with his vortex motion and his sword cutting the air into pieces. Then, all of a sudden, he threw his sword upright into the air, a whole hundred feet high and, as though a lightning stroke, the sword dropped down from that precipitous height straight into the general's sheath he held in his outstretched arm. Flop! The swordplay routine was finished with such a skilful feint. All onlookers who presented there in many were shocked by such an amazing move. Wu Dao-zi was so deeply moved that a momentum of inspiration immediately burst in his mind about the design of the painting. That was like a true revelation which fell on him from above.
When the story reached Wang Wei's ears, another greatest poet of Tang, he wrote a dedication to the general, from which we know that Pei Min was also an excellent archer who, as the legend runs, was famously known due to his fighting against the numerous tigers crawled all around the area of ancient Beijing. One day, it has been recorded, he shot thirty-one of the fiercest beasts. Wang Wei's poem goes like this:
Dedication to General Pei Min
By Wang Wei (699-761)
He wears at his waist
The treasured blade--
The Seven Star Sword,
The glitter of the Dipper.
His arm is armed with
A richly decorated bow
To win in all the battles
He has been involved into.
They say his sword
Is to pierce Heaven's roof
Concealed from eyes
Beyond the cloudy skies.
From the very beginning
The world has got it straight
That the heavens bring up
The warlord of a great valour.
The Moon Pool Selected Verses
By Alexander Goldstein
1
Stillness of Water
As is said, 'Men do not look into
The running waters as a mirror
But into still water' --
It is only the still water that can
Arrest the men's heed
And keep them in contemplation
Of their true selves.
Of things which are what they are
By the influence of Mother Earth,
It is only the pine tree and cypress
Which are the best instances --
In winter as in summer vividly green.
Of those which are what they are
By the influence of Lord Heaven,
The most striking examples
Are certainly the sun and the moon --
Fortunate in thus maintaining
Their constant brightness and so,
As to illuminate the lives of all beings.
As a verification of the power
Of the original endowment,
When it has been preserved,
Take the result of fearlessness --
How the heroic spirit of each fighter
Has been thrown into victorious action.
2
The Worldly Wholeness
Most people, following their thought,
Once seeing an egg, look out for a cock
Which is to be hatched from it;
When seeing a gun, in no time
They look out for a duck
That is to be brought down by it,
For being roasted with relish.
But how could anyone,
Standing by the side of the sun
And moon, hold under one's arm
All space and all time at once?
Such a tough question only means
That a wise man and worthy leader
Keeps his mouth shut and puts aside
All queries that are uncertain and
Quite hard for understanding.
Making all his inferior capacities
United with him, he honours thus
The worldly wholeness he lives in.
While men in general bustle about and toil,
He seems stupid and to know nothing of life.
He blends ten thousand ages together
In the sole concept of time; a myriad things
All use to pursue their spontaneous routes
And they all are before his eyes as running so.
3
Tea Drinking Impact
Some like to drink strong tea,
Like aghada herb,
But some like drinking weak tea --
A sort of evening drink
Made from the cypress needles
Or pine nuts; and some prefer
To drink just pure spring water
Also called 'the spring bubbles.'
Strong tea is like the scorching sun
In summertime and loud thunder
Out of a clear blue sky;
Weak tea is like the autumn moon,
Full in size but hidden behind the clouds.
As for the spring water, it is no sun,
No moon and no rain to be neither night
Nor day but clarity and brightness of mind.
Strong tea stimulates and excites people,
Weak tea quenches their thirst,
While pure water is to replenish the body
With enough liquid, and that's it.
In fact, most people are busy and prefer
Drinking strong tea to counteract
Their exhaustion from toil --
They dare not to fall asleep or indulge
In a roaming or scattered thoughts.
And only some drink weak or diluted tea
To relax their body and mind --
It gives them opportunity for idleness
And sighting the reality before their eyes.
Those who only drink water are really few.
4
My Rose Garden
Roses in my garden
Are so much rose,
And violets there
Are no less violet.
The moon's disk
Is like a silver dollar,
Whereas the sun
Is never on the wane.
Light breeze is soft,
But storm lasts never long;
This 3-D space, oh yes,
Is my temporal home!
5
Its Majesty Time
Everyone is honoured to be familiarly acquainted
With Its Majesty Time and the way It reigns
In the world since Adam was a little kid.
There is in It pure sincerity and fervent desire,
But, actually, It does nothing, whether it be
In the slow way or in rapid, having no body's shape.
It can be served but not made a bid for sympathy.
It may be handed down by the teacher,
But may not be received by his pupils;
It may be apprehended by mind,
But It cannot be seen so far.
It has Its root and ground of existence in Itself;
Before there were Heaven and Earth,
There It was, securely existing for Itself.
From It came all the mysterious existence
Of the gods and spirits; It produced Heaven,
It produced Earth, and yet could not
Be regarded higher; It was below all space
And yet could not be considered deeper.
It was produced before the world and yet
Could not be examined to have existed long.
And yet cannot be considered old.
Creator got It and by It adjusted the entire universe;
Cognition got It and by It penetrated to the mystery
Of the maternity of the primary matter;
Silence got It and from all great age has made
No eccentric movement; the sun and moon got It
And from the ancient past have not intermitted
Their bright shining; the Hostess of West got It
And by It became Mistress of Mt. Ulugh Muztagh.
The King of Clouds got It and by It enjoyed himself
As Ruler of the World Ocean; the Lord on High got It
And by It ascended beyond the seventh heaven;
The King of Night got It and by It dwelt in the Dark Palace;
The Host of North got It and by It was set on the North Star;
The Chief of Light got It and by It had his central seat
In the South Palace of Brightness. This is how
All developed, follow its customary routine.
No one knows Its beginning; nobody knows Its end.
From of old one who followed It could live for long.
Thus the sage kings got It and by It became in a trice
The worthy rulers of the world. And those of them
Who mounted to the Eastern region of the Galaxy,
Where, riding on Sagittarius and Scorpio, and lashing
The fire steeds of their thunderous chariots, they took
Their place among the other stars and constellations
Unveiled for ages and all generations by Its Majesty Time.
6
My Last Memory
My last remembrance --
What will it be?
The vernal heat of the sun,
The nightingale's song in July,
A landscape bathed
In the midfall moonlight,
Ashberries fallen down
To the frost ground? . .
7
The Core of Serenity
O how boundless is the state of serenity!
How transparent is the moon's reflection
Shot in the ripples of the water wisdom!
At such an instant, what else need we get?
Since the truth infinitely discovers itself
As a solid clod of mud on the dusty roadside,
Neither