Master Banzen had invited fellow master Suku to his
domicile for lunch. On the table lay two great stacks of
bowls, each several feet high.
Banzen reached up and took the topmost bowl from his stack.
It was empty save for three grains of rice. He deftly
snapped up each grain with his chopsticks and ate them.
Suku took the topmost bowl from her own stack. In it was
only a single toasted sesame seed. With great difficulty she
caught it between the ends of her chopsticks.
Banzen took another bowl. At the bottom lay a morsel of
orange flesh. “Recently,” he said, “you advised a certain
monk that it was wise to structure even the smallest
application.”
Suku also took another bowl, discovering the tiniest sliver
of cucumber. “I have found that with structure comes clarity
and extensibility.”
“You will be pleased to hear that he is heeding your advice
most eagerly,” said Banzen. “He now divides a hundred-line
throwaway application into many classes.”
“Ah,” said Suku, reaching for the next bowl. It held two
grains of rice. “You believe I counseled him poorly.”
“Injudiciously, perhaps,” said Banzen, struggling to scoop
up a few dots of tobiko. “Any virtue, taken to extremes,
becomes a vice. Incidentally, how is your sushi?”
“Is that what we’re eating?” asked Suku, considering the
tall stack of bowls that still remained.
“I am not entirely certain,” said Banzen, studying a ribbon
of nori at the end of his chopsticks. “I suppose we must go
through all the courses before we can be sure.”
