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A Master's Lesson

"Look forward; focus on the tip of your snout. Relax the shoulders, tuck them back. Now march forward, try not to bring your knee up so high. Just enough to barley leave the ground without scraping it. Keep your ears up and to the side. Try another step, stop. Widen your stance. Point your hind paws directly forward, alright march. Relax you can do this, stop watching your feet and focus on the tip of your snout...good. Alright breathe, from the top, doing much better, keep that tail in check. Remember follow the rhythm; keep it steady with your steps. That's it; you're doing it, alright now pivot."

With a thud the tomes master had placed atop my head came crashing down. With a heavy sigh of frustration I scratched my head.

"Hey, you did wonderfully. It takes time to break these old habits."

"But we've been doing this for weeks now, the others cubs have already moved on!"

"There's no point dwelling on what others have done and what you have yet to do. With a little bit of time all things will one day come to pass. Now come, stand, we start again." Standing I let him once again stack the heavy tomes upon my head.

It was weeks till master deemed me to have suitable form, and even longer still for the pain of walking so differently to go away. So many nights I woke up sore, wishing that tomorrow would bring relief, but it only brought more training. However, as time went on, the pain slowly subsided, and my sleep became much more peaceful. Still the daily routine worked me to the bone.

First was to the mess hall, to the kitchen where all cubs learned how to prepare and cook the sanctuary food. Taking turns each day doing a different chore. I never much cared for the Almorian diet of fish, rice, and milk, though I suppose that's to be expected from a canine living with a bunch of felines.

Once we had eaten our fill it was out to the training fields, to practice our forms. For weeks I had to ender simply walking about, but for the past few months I've been allowed to learn and practice with the others. Which quickly turned into its own curse, I had worked so hard to join the others, but I was still behind, often making a fool of myself and failing to do the simplest of stretches. Many of which the other cubs had learned long ago.

I like to think the other students gave me space because of my sloppy technique, but part of me always felt they resented me. I always slowed down training and often needed longer to finish whatever stretch was assigned.

Next was lessons, you'd think I'd stand a chance with a bunch of fur balls, but I knew little about the ways of the world, and had trouble with philosophy. I didn't understand why we'd be asked to reflect and meditate so much. I still tried to understand, often thinking about the strange topics we were asked to reflect on. When asked what I thought on the matter, most students would giggle or tease me based upon my answer, but never master.

He'd simply smile and nod, once and a while saying I had an interesting view on the world and that he'd reflect on my answer which meant more time just sitting there thinking. At that point most of the other cubs where just sleeping, I didn't blame them, sitting there for that long was uncomfortable at best.

Then came my favorite part of the day, dummy practice, where we were allowed to practice the more interesting parts. Sometimes we were paired and other times we were lead through small training routines, but mostly we were allowed to practice however we wanted. I'd quickly do my stretches often being told by the masters to redo them in my haste. Before being allowed to cut lose.

Most students practice a form, or made efforts to perfect a technique. Not me, I used it to get all the frustration and anger out. I'd often pelt the wood with ravage strikes, clawing at the bark, anything to make the embedded pain go away. When I first did this, I got a lot of strange looks from the other students, so much so that night I feared I'd be punished by master when he called me into his chambers.

He didn't though; we just had tea with milk...of course. He asked me a few questions; simple things, how I was doing, what I was feeling and he just listened and nodded very rarely saying anything. Except one time when I was really frustrated, I can't remember why I was so mad, but I remember how he made me forget. He just hugged me, without a word, he held me close and...took the pain.

From there was personal time, each of us took to a hobby. All except me, I just chose to practice my form and techniques and at the time, the elders seemed happy with this. Over the years this was my life. I'd wake up, and repeated this, with very little variation until it came to the day of graduation.

At this point not only had I caught up to the other students, in many ways I surpassed them. My form was smooth and flowing, my body was fit and tough, and my mind was sharp and open. I was ready for anything. That day started off perfectly.

The morning routine we had all the masters watching us as we practiced, many of which complemented how much I had grown and said I was an example to the younger cubs who spent the day watching us as we had those who came before us. Each of us then went off with our own master and they asked us about what we thought it meant to be alive and other such questions. I got some bemused chuckles out of the elder I was paired with; however, he said I had a wonderful view, all be it strange.

Then came the final challenge, we were to demonstrate our abilities to their fullest to our chosen master. I knew of only one, and I poured my heart into my performance. I focused on the tip of my snout, kept my shoulders relaxed and back, my tail in rhythm with each step.

I dug into the ground, the soft soil beneath my pads as I drew back my arms, with ease I thrust them forward, my hind legs quick to follow. I pivoted in place, keeping myself centered, as I pushed against invisible foes, working my wrist, effortlessly pushing the wind itself, as I swayed from stance to stance like water. Where one ended another began, interrupting one, only to seamlessly start another, forming my own endless routine.

I was flawless, I was perfect, I was...failed. With a regrettable sore tone, my master failed me. In my ignorance I flew into a rage, how could he scorn me, it was because I was a dog, a mutt and outsider, that had to be it. I was perfect, better than some masters, and the old man just nodded like always as if this was just another outburst. It gnawed at me as he passed this off as some other meaningless moment, like all my hard work was a joke.

I broke down, and I ran, I just ran until my legs wouldn't carry me anymore and when they couldn't anymore I sat down and meditated, trying to let go of the painful feelings. To forgive myself for being so foolish in front of the masters and what I could of done wrong that I was failed. It would not be for six years before I return to the Sanctuary. I still did not know what I had done to fail, nor did I expect to be welcomed back so openly. To my surprise, I was ushered back in, like a lost lamb. They feed me, and tended to my many wounds. I managed to work up the courage to ask about my master. The room hushed, and I knew something was wrong. Tao had grown very ill in my absence.

Once again I ran, I ran to my father's room. Nearly knocking over several members both young and old, threw open his door to see him sitting up, his fine tea set out, sipping on it peacefully. He looked at me with wonder, then a soft smile as he nodded, and asked me to come in. I closed the door and went quietly inside.

He asked never did ask why I left, nor did he show anger that I had. I told him how I had become an adventure, traveling the land with other oddities like myself. I told him or Trish the Fire Dancer, Malcom the Grand, and of the misadventures we had. I talked about all that I had learned and seen, of the world outside the sanctuary. We laughed, we laughed for hours. Then he told me about his time, the promising young students that had come up séance my departure.

It was my turn to listen, as I sat and heard the troubles of the Sanctuary, his fears and hopes. How he wished he had more time. He was so happy to have me home and I was glad to be home. I stayed for the next couple of weeks, filling in for our master. At first I found it awkward, I was teaching with those who had actually graduated, and I had yet to. They never resented me, nor did they question my reappearance, they all were just happy to have me home. Still, a questioned burned in me, and I had to ask.

"Tao, why did I fail?"

"I failed you,"

"But," he simple raised his paw to silence me.

"I failed to teach you the most important of lessons."

"But you didn't, I must have misstep or or"

"Don't be daft, you were perfect all those years ago. You even had spirit."

"Then why?"

"The sign of a master is not that he has master all that he has learned, but that he has master how to learn." I look on at him with a confused expression.

"The greatest lesson a master can bestow upon his student is how to grow, how to learn for himself. There comes a time where the student surpasses that master and there is nothing left to teach. It is vital at this point that the student has knowns how to think for themselves, to grow great then themselves. That day, you didn't fail, I had failed you. "

He took a moment to poor some tea as he collected his thoughts and let me reflect on what he had said, "I thought you needed personal time to work up to the other children so I never questioned your use of personal time." "Graduation, when I saw you, I saw myself. You moved so perfectly, you reflected the order, and order that has been dying for years. We have tradition and our ways, but the world is an every changing place. The young replace the old, as we depart from this world. So to should the order, I had failed to teach. Only more proof the old ways don't always work. Yet it seems your time away has shown you, what I could not. For that I'll be eternally grateful to those friends of yours." Nothing more was said that night, we sat in silence as we sip his tea, with milk of course.

Three months had come and gone when I finally went to father's room to find that he had past silently in the night. I had said a small prey before getting the priest. The order was quite, very quiet the next few days, as the Tao's funeral was held and the Elders debated who shall be his successor.

It didn't come to much of a shock to me when I was named head master of the Sanctuary. Somehow I knew that he had planned this all along. I took up the mantle and reflected upon his words, I had changed, and though father had believed he failed me in truth, he made me stronger. One day I will pass on as well, my teaching may prove to be folly, but one lesson I hope is never forgotten is how to learn.