love fable: The Cook Carving an Ox
Once upon a time, there was a cook named Ding who was especially skilled at carving oxen. King Hui of Liang, having heard of his skill, invited him to carve an ox for him.
When Cook Ding started carving the ox, every place his hand touched, every place his shoulder leaned, every place his foot stepped, and every place his knee pressed, all emitted harmonious sounds, like the gentle patter of rain or the rustling of leaves. With a swift thrust of his knife, a sharp sound followed, and the flesh separated from the bone. All the sounds and movements were as rhythmic as a musical performance, his posture graceful like the ancient dance of “Sanglin”; the sounds pleasing like the ancient melody of “Xianchi.”
Seeing this, King Hui of Liang clapped his hands in admiration and exclaimed, “Ah, wonderful! Wonderful! How can such skill reach such a marvelous level?!”
Cook Ding set down his knife and replied, “I understand the principles of carving an ox, which goes beyond just mastering the basic skills. When I first started carving oxen, all I saw was a whole ox, not knowing where to begin. After three years, I completely understood the structure of the ox’s body, and what appeared before me was no longer a whole ox. I knew exactly where to make the incisions. Now, when I carve an ox, I don’t need to look with my eyes; I rely on my spirit to connect with the ox. The functions of my sensory organs are no longer needed, and my spirit takes over.”
Seeing King Hui of Liang’s puzzled expression, Cook Ding continued, “When dismembering an ox, I follow the natural physiological structure of the ox. I insert the knife into the gaps between the muscles and bones, moving through the spaces within the joints. All my actions follow the natural structure of the ox. Where the knife passes, it doesn’t touch even the ligaments and tendons, let alone the major bones.
A good cook changes his knife once a year because they use the knife to cut meat; ordinary cooks change their knives every month because they hack at the bones. My knife has been in use for nineteen years, having carved thousands of oxen, yet its edge is as sharp as if it had just been honed. You see, there are spaces between the joints of the ox, and the knife blade is so thin it has almost no thickness. Inserting such a blade into the joint spaces provides ample room to move.
Even after nineteen years, my knife is still this sharp. Despite this, I never become complacent. Whenever I encounter complex interlocking bones, I slow my movements and proceed with caution. When the ox suddenly falls apart, like a clump of earth crumbling to the ground, I stand with my knife, look around, feeling at ease and satisfied. Then, I clean the knife, and carefully put it away.”
Upon hearing this, King Hui of Liang said, “Marvelous! Hearing your words, I have gained profound insights into the principles of nurturing life!”
Thank you for reading! ” Sitestorys “
