The Arc of The Stars (a short story)

The Arc of the Stars

There was once a Taoist wizard who was said to know the Arc of the Stars.

People traveled from distant villages to seek his teachings.

Some wished to learn immortality.

Some wished to learn power.

Others wished to learn the secrets of Heaven.

The old Taoist wizard accepted them all as students.

Each morning before dawn, they gathered in the courtyard to receive instruction.

And every morning they found the old man doing the same thing.

He stood quietly.

Then he bent his knees slightly and slowly bounced.

Down.

Up.

Down.

Up.

Down.

Like a reed swaying in shallow water.

The students watched patiently at first.

Then impatiently.

Weeks became months.

Months became years.

Still the old man stood in the courtyard, gently rising and sinking with the dawning sun.

Finally one student could no longer contain his frustration.

"Master," he said, "when will you teach us the Arc of the Stars?"

The old man smiled.

"I am teaching it."

The student looked around.

There were no stars.

Only dirt.

Only grass.

Only the old wizard slowly bouncing in the morning mist.

"This?" asked the student.

"This is standing and bouncing."

The wizard shook his head.

"No."

He bent his knees once more, even slower this time.

Down.

Up.

Down.

Up.

Down.

"This is listening."

The student sighed.

The old man motioned him forward.

"Place your hand upon my shoulder."

The student obeyed.

The wizard relaxed.

His body settled.

The student's eyes widened.

Something rose beneath his hand, though the old wizard hadn't moved.

Not a muscular push.

Not a sudden movement.

It just felt as though a pressure had entered the old man's body from below.

A fullness.

A quiet strength.

As if the earth itself had become part of him.

The wizard smiled.

"What did you feel?"

The student searched for words.

"It felt like something came up."

The old man smiled.

"Good."

The old man pointed to the ground.

"Where do you think that came from?"

The student responded quickly,

"From you."

The wizard laughed.

"No."

Then he pointed once more to the earth beneath their feet.

"It came from there."

The students exchanged puzzled looks.

The wizard bent his knees again.

Down.

Up.

Down.

Up.

Down.

"When I push downward," he said, "the Earth pushes equally upwards."

One student laughed.

"Everyone knows that."

The old man nodded.

"With their minds, perhaps."

He sank slightly.

"But very few know that truth with their bodies."

Again he settled.

Again he rose.

"The harder something presses downward, the harder the Earth answers."

The students nodded.

This was simple.

Everyone knew this.

Yet the wizard continued.

"Do not think about it."

He pointed to their feet.

"Feel it."

So they practiced.

Days became weeks.

Weeks became months.

The students bent their knees and slowly bounced.

They tried to find the force the wizard described.

They strained.

They tightened their muscles.

They forced their posture into rigid perfection.

Yet none of them felt anything.

One morning the wizard approached a student who was sweating from effort and asked,

"Why are you working so hard?"

The student replied, 

"I am trying to feel the Earth."

The old man smiled.

"The Earth is not hiding."

Then he gently tapped the student's shoulders.

"Relax."

He touched the chest.

"At ease."

The hips.

"Soften."

The knees.

"Calm."

The student exhaled.

His weight settled.

For the first time he stopped trying to create something.

For the first time he simply stood and almost imperceptibly slowly bounced.

Down.

Up.

Down.

Up.

Down.

And there it was.

Faint at first.

A subtle pressure beneath the feet.

A returning force.

A response.

Not imagined.

Not mystical.

Simply present.

The Earth answering a law of nature.

The student's eyes widened.

The wizard nodded.

"Ah, you found it."

The student smiled.

"It feels like the ground is helping me."

The old man laughed.

"It always was."

Years passed.

The students grew skilled.

Their movements became calm.

Their bodies became connected.

Their strength seemed effortless.

Travelers began to visit the school.

They spoke of the students' unusual abilities.

Some said they possessed secret energy.

Others claimed they knew ancient magic.

The wizard merely smiled and returned to his practice. An old man slowly bouncing with the dawn. 

Down.

Up.

Down.

Up.

Down.

One evening, after many years, the student who had first questioned the master approached him again.

The two sat beneath a sky full of stars.

"Master," he said, "there is something I still do not understand."

The old man waited.

"What does any of this have to do with the Arc of the Stars?"

The wizard pointed toward the ground.

"What is pushing back?"

"The Earth."

"And what gives the Earth its weight?"

The student thought for a moment.

The wizard pointed upward.

To the moon.

To the planets.

To the countless stars scattered across the darkness.

"The Heavens?  The Earth is not separate from them."

The student remained silent.

"The Earth is pulled upon by the Moon."

"And the Earth pulls upon the Moon."

"The Sun holds them both."

"The Stars hold the Sun."

The wizard smiled.

"These things are close to the Tao, they take the lowly station. The heavens bow and bend to each other. Everything touches everything else."

The student looked upward.

Then downward.

Then upward again.

Slowly, understanding began to dawn.

The old man pressed his bare foot into the soil.

"When you learn to feel the Earth pushing back, you have begun to feel the touch of the stars."

The night became very quiet.

For a long time neither of them spoke.

Finally the student stood.

He bent his knees softly.

Down.

Up.

Down.

Up.

Down.

For the first time he felt the ground beneath him.

For the first time he felt the sky above him.

And for the first time he realized they were part of the same conversation.