The Uncarved Stone

One evening, as the tea house lanterns flickered in the breeze, a nobleman arrived, draped in fine silks and adorned with jade ornaments. He stepped inside, his attendants waiting outside, and approached the Daoist master.

“I have spent years refining myself,” the nobleman declared. “I have learned the arts of calligraphy, poetry, and swordplay. I have mastered etiquette and the proper way of speaking. But I hear that the Dao is beyond refinement, beyond all knowledge. How can this be?”

The master poured tea, then pointed to a rough, unpolished stone resting near the doorway. “That stone has never been carved, yet it does not lack shape. It has never been polished, yet it does not lack beauty.”

The nobleman frowned. “But a true gem must be cut and polished before it shines.”

The master took a slow sip of tea. “And when it is cut, something is lost. It is no longer what it was.”

The nobleman traced a finger along the rim of his cup, gazing at the stone. “Are you saying I must abandon all I have learned?”

The master shook his head. “I am saying only this: A tree does not polish its own bark, yet it stands. A river does not carve itself, yet it flows.”

The nobleman sat for a long time in silence. The wind stirred outside, rustling the leaves.

At last, he sighed and removed his jade ornament, setting it on the table. “Tonight, I will sleep beneath the open sky.”

The master nodded, pouring another cup of tea. “Then tonight, you may hear the Dao whisper in the wind.”

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Learn more about Daoism, its philosophy and practice in the book series - Daoist Cultivation.