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<b> The Celestial General I am standing in the bushes outside a small cottage, peering in the window like some kind of a fool... or criminal. Though I suspect anyone looking at me would guess the former, since my mouth is hanging open waiting to catch random bugs. People say he is the most gifted General in three kingdoms. But that is impossible. The old man sits quietly in his bamboo chair, with his useless legs wrapped against the cold. A young woman dressed all in white gently takes his tea tray from his lap, and wipes the crumbs from the old man's throat. Who is this old man, and how can he possibly fight with those crippled legs? While I watch, the assistant returns bearing a small lapdesk, with inks, maps, and quill. Curiousity gets the better of me, and I knock quietly at the door. It takes only a moment for the assistant to answer, and she seems less than surprised. "What is it now?" she asks, with a brisk tone that makes me feel like a child who's been there pestering her for sweets all day. I clear my throat uncomfortably before replying. "er, I'm sorry to disturb your morning, Miss... it's just that I was told there was a great General here, and I wished to learn what I can from him." The young woman sighs, and it feels as if a lifetime of burdens settles on my shoulders with the sound. "Fine, fine.... come with me, and don't dawdle." She leads me into the sitting room, and places a chair next to the old man - confused, I sit down and wait for the Master's attention. His voice is quiet, like dead leaves brushing against winter branches. I can barely hear him as she starts to murmer. "War is rhythm, motion, harmony. But not always physical... no, not always. War is what Dancing should be." I blink in surprise. I've come for a tactics lesson, but I don't think I'll be getting one today. "A General should take his enemy by the hand like the most skilled of muses, and lead you through the steps with passion and exhileration. He should direct your reactions, turning them to his own music. As he speaks, his hand flows across the map, with exquisite motions - How can such wrinkled, arthritic fingers make such precise notations? "My Enemy is my dance partner.. we have danced together since first I went to war. One must have a respect for his dance partner, don't you think?" He holds the map up so I can get a better look - Aged parchment and quality inks glimmer in the firelight. It is truly a beautiful piece of craftsmanship.... but I don't see what it has to do with tactics. "This map is our dance floor" -he carresses the grain of the parchment gently- "Look how it inspires me to move across it's surface." At last I reply: "Indeed, it is a beautiful map, but I hardly feel like dancing on it." "You are blind, woman. You see only one dimension of War, but War is in all things. It is the music in your soul, and you choose how to release it. Some only react to the music others make. But a skilled tactician makes the music, and forces his enemy to dance to -his- tune. Here, this is one of my greatest victories." He hands me a Leather-bound scroll, made of the same rich parchment on the desk in his lap. I know I must look dubious, but I take the scroll politely and unroll the map. The ink has settled into the parchment leaving a texture all it's own - I find myself tempted to brush my hands across the page to feel the calligraphy, to trace the terrain so skillfuly drawn... but I know that would leave oils from my skin on the page, so I refrain. Instead, I focus my mind, and study the tactical notations. It's a simple battle plan. But the best are. After all, the best plans are only good until the first arrow leaves it's quill. It is simple. And yet genius in it's simplicity. Looking at this map, I begin to understand the value of tactics. One thing is certain, I will return for another lesson tomorrow. <b>.: Shawnee :. | |