Once upon a time, perhaps in Japan, or perhaps in another land, there was a certain Master of the Sword whose skill was so great that he seemed to be invincible. He kept a large dojo, with many students, who were, of course, in awe of him, and he did his best to teach them mastery of the body and the mind through the way of the warrior.

One day a stranger came to the door of the dojo, declaring that he had come to challenge the Master. This was not unusual–a master of martial arts expects challenges. What was strange, though, was the challenger himself: an old man, bent with age, who walked with uncertain steps and who did not even carry a sword. “Grandfather,” said the student who met him at the door, “are you sure? Perhaps you would like to challenge one of the students, first.”

“No, no,” said the old man, “I have come to challenge the Master of the Dojo.”

And since it would have been discourteous to turn him away, the student brought him before the Master.

The Master stood very still and studied the old man, perhaps trying to deduce what was behind this request. Then he said, “Give him a sword.” Immediately, one of the students stepped forward and respectfully laid a sword before the old man. The Master stood with his weapon ready, in profound, charged silence, waiting for the old man to begin his attack.

But the old man did not touch the sword. He only looked at it thoughtfully for a moment, and then, glancing up at the Master, said, “This brings to mind the accident that befell the sword maker of White Tiger Mountain when he wished to make his final masterpiece as a gift for the Dragon King of the Seventh Kingdom. Perhaps you know the tale? The sword maker, whose name was Lu, had lived for forty years in seclusion, enduring many hardships, abstaining from wine and even tea as he perfected his craft, and his swords had become legendary for having living spirit in them…”

The old man’s voice had something of the rustle of bamboo in the wind as he recounted the story of the sword maker, and something of the murmur of a small stream on a warm summer day. The students standing around the perimeter of the dojo, listening, had no idea how long he talked – but at last they became aware of silence. And when the old man stopped, the students saw something they had never seen before. With great humility, the sword master lowered his weapon, and placed it before the old man as a sign of defeat.

“Do you not understand?” the Master said to the astonished students. “Have I not told you again and again: ‘Be present! Who departs from the moment will be defeated!’ And this man took me far away from the present. His skill is greater than mine.”