The Sound of Falling Petals
High in the mountains, where the cherry blossoms bloomed like clouds of soft pink, a wandering swordsman sought the Daoist sage. The swordsman was famed for his skill, yet his heart was restless, his mind troubled.
He found the sage sitting beneath a great cherry tree, watching petals drift silently to the ground. Bowing deeply, the swordsman spoke. “Master, I have spent years honing my swordsmanship, yet I feel something is missing. My strikes are swift, my blade is precise, but in the heat of combat, I hesitate. How can I achieve true mastery?”
The sage smiled and gestured to the falling petals. “Listen,” he said.
The swordsman closed his eyes. At first, he heard only the wind. Then, he noticed the soft sound of petals touching the earth—light, effortless, without resistance.
The sage spoke, “The cherry blossom does not cling to the branch, nor does it resist the wind. When the time comes, it falls, without hesitation, without regret. Your hesitation comes from clinging—clinging to victory, to control, to fear of failure. The blade moves best when it moves as the falling petal—without thought, without force, in harmony with what is.”
The swordsman opened his eyes, watching the petals dance in the air. At that moment, he understood. True mastery was not in the force of his strike, but in the effortless flow of action, unburdened by doubt.
He bowed to the sage and left, his steps lighter, his sword an extension of the wind.
Daoist School Zhen Dao Pai
