|
One day Musashi came to class. He spoke not a word. Stopped all our training. Stood there in the middle of the Great Hall looking at us all.
We were tired. Sweaty. Limbs aching and eyes glazed with exhaustion.
The Master surveyed us all. He pointed to a student and singled him out.
“Here!” he barked and the student hastened to obey.
“Death will come to us all.” Said the Master and we blanched. We were not yet used to his direct addresses or his occasional bitter moods. “What is the body of a rock?” he asked and his eyes burnt fierce.
We all knew the lesson. Body of a rock was resolution. A state of mind we were trying to attain. Fear, recognised, held in control. Senses attuned and extended to their maximum output. Body of a rock was the attitude in mortal combat when things were not going your way. It meant you had decided that the riskiest path was the safest. The one most likely to bring success.
We knew about body of a rock. We knew.
“You know nothing,” The Master could have been reading our thoughts. “You,” he ordered the student standing before him, “kill yourself,” the student wavered, his lips trembled. Then he slowly drew out a dagger. Reversed it. The point pressing upon his heart, just under the ribs. He had a double-handed grip on it. Eyes blank. Breathing now even. He had a clean look in his eyes. What he saw suddenly, made sense. His hands flexed, a tiny movement. The muscles about to contract, drive the tip of the blade home.
The Master was faster. He had been waiting for that, reading him right. He whipped out a backfist, snapped his head to the side as he made contact with the temple, made the student’s legs go limb. The dagger clattered to the floor as the student collapsed unconscious. Alive.
“That,” said the Master, “is the body of a rock.” He left.
We often thought about that moment. Afterwards. In the hushed darkness of our quarters. Discussing what it had meant.
Meaning. We thought we could somehow learn. Meaning. From that. We did of course. Two weeks later we were on the battlefield for real. The Master ahead, cutting a path through bunched, armed figures. Unflinching. Body of a Rock. It was attitude. The way of mind over body. Mind over the moment. It was not about accepting death. We did that each time we entered battle. It was about rejecting it. In Body of a Rock death did not come except as an accident which meant we had made a mistake. We had failed.
The moment of the kill is not about justice. Lust for blood. Revenge. True, we had used all of these at one time or another. We had to. Slingers in battle used whatever would leverage the enemy’s fear. But killing was beyond all that. We killed the same way we made love. The same way we lived. With all our soul. Dispassionately. Completely. Totally.
Not read it yet?
Try The Shade , available as a totally free digital download. |
