RETELLING

Landscape. 19th Century. Painting by Kano Tomonobu.

Once, long ago in feudal Japan, a conflict erupted between two wealthy estates. Among the army of the winning side, one samurai fought more fiercely than all the others. He was a large, powerful man, a merciless combatant who fought with blind obedience for his feudal lord. In fact, he had served so well that when he returned home, he was awarded his own fiefdom to protect and enjoy. 

The samurai was proud to have a home, as he had traveled for many years in service to his lord. In the samurai’s travels, he had witnessed many incredible events, heard many fascinating stories, and learned of many strange ideas. On his last expedition, he had heard something very intriguing about the true nature of the Yomi—the underworld where men reside after death. He had heard that the Yomi was actually two underworlds, one for souls that would be rewarded, the other for souls that would be punished. One Yomi was called heaven, the other was called hell. 

The fierce samurai wanted to know more about these places. As a first act in his new fiefdom, he went to the shrine to visit the head priest. When he arrived he demanded answers in the only way he knew how. He threw open the door and barked at the priest, “I have been awarded this fiefdom from our feudal lord! I demand knowledge, priest!” 

The priest was meditating on the floor, his eyes lightly closed. “What knowledge do you seek, Bushi-sama?”

The Samurai stood, towering over the priest, “I have heard of two Yomis, priest. Tell me, now, what is heaven and hell?”

The priest didn’t move for a long while. Eventually, he opened one eye, as if to inspect the samurai. “Why should I freely give my knowledge to such a simple-minded brute?” he muttered, closing his eye again.

“Do you wish for death?!” the samurai bellowed, reaching for his longsword. 

“I wish to not waste my life teaching the unteachable. You are barely an animal. A dog who knows only how to follow commands. A killing machine, no more intelligent than the lifeless katana in your hand.”

The samurai had never been spoken to in this way. He felt a hot rage rise to his face. He felt his muscles clench with contempt. He pulled his longsword from its sheath and raised it into the air. He was consumed with hatred for the priest, not just because of his disrespect, but because of what the priest was now forcing upon him. Because of the priest's stupidity: more death, more blood, more cries of agony. More of that sickly sweet smell of a warm belly torn open, more life spilled out at the samurai’s feet. He hated the priest for his body’s own frailty, for every body’s frailty, so skillfully woven and so effortlessly shredded apart. His hatred quickly swelled until his muscles ached and his teeth clenched and his breath stopped.

Then, in one swift motion, the priest silently opened his eyes and raised his right hand, his palm gently facing the samurai. Looking directly at the samurai for the first time, the priest searched the samurai’s eyes with curiosity. And in his gaze, the samurai froze, his sword above his head.

“This, Bushi-sama, is hell.” The priest spoke quietly, tenderly. 

The samurai understood. Looking into the priest's generous eyes, the stinging heat drained from the samurai's face, his shoulders loosened their painful clench, the blood flowed back to his toes and fingertips. The unfathomable weight of obligation rose from the samurai’s back. His honor, that bloodthirsty lush that could ignore no slight, retreated unharmed. The samurai’s terrible duty would be temporarily delayed. The samurai would not have to kill, not today. The priest before him—by what felt like a miracle—would live. They would both live. They would share life.

 Seeing this transformation in the Samurai, the priest took a deep inhale, feeling his own relief perhaps. The samurai slowly dropped his sword and they both let out a long, slow, quivering exhalation. The priest raised his other hand. “And this, Bushi-sama,” he said with smiling eyes, “is heaven.”  

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References:

Tomonobu, Kano. Landscape. 19th Century, Philadelphia Museum of Art, Philadelphia. https://philamuseum.org/collection/object/46157. Accessed 29 October 2023.

Media: 

Consider accompanying your reading with this selection from the extended edition of Brian Eno's 1983 ambient masterpiece, Apollo: