Each morning the master walked to the flower garden in the park and sat in contemplation.

As he sat one morning four young men saw him and approached.

“Hey look at this old man meditating on the flowers,” said the biggest and most aggressive of the four. Then, picking up a stick, he said, “Let’s see him meditate on this!”

Running at the master, he drew back the stick to strike the master on the side of the head. With calm abiding, the master smoothly turned and arose from his kneeling posture. With relaxed eyes he met the young man and guided him to the ground. The young man felt nothing except his body in a pile, and the cool grass on his face.

The master’s countenance was unchanged.

Then a second young man fearfully drew a knife and charged the master. The master turned gracefully and threw his hands up and down and up. The second young man flew feet first into the air and landed on the ground with a “thud,” like a bag of sand dropped from a 3rd floor window.

Undistracted from the moment, the master turned to face the two remaining young men who looked at each other in disbelief and ran off in the other direction.

A week later the four young men came to the park and approached the master again, less boldly this time.

“Master,” pled the first young man. “Please teach us to fight like you fight. We want to be great fighters. We want to be the best fighters.”

The master, in relaxed contemplation, broke ever so slightly into a smile. “Fighters?” he questioned. “We are not fighters.”

Anticipating a joke, the first young man laughed and asked, “If we’re not fighters then what are we?”

The master paused. “We are gardeners,” he replied.

“Gardeners!?” growled the first young man, puzzled and discouraged by the master’s answer.

“Yes, gardeners,” said the master. “We are gardeners in paradise.”

Bill C