What is Good and What is Bad?

I thought I'd lighten things up with a little story that appeared as part of my book, Gideon McGee's Dream. Gideon lies at the bottom of a frozen pond after saving his sister. While there his consciousnes leaves his body and he encounters Zacharaias, who takes him on a great adventure in the hopes that it might explain why life has been the way it has been for Gideon. What follows is one of the places Gideon visits. The story was written primarily for teenagers, but I think you'll enjoy it as well.

Gideon and Zacharaias finished their Earth tour of the year 520 BC, and headed for central China and the farm of Wu Li. His was one of several small farms in a fertile river-valley that Wu Li’s family had worked for twenty generations. The emperor allowed them enough food to support themselves, and enough profit for Wu Li to purchase the first horse his family ever owned. At forty years of age, Wu Li was growing old, for in the year 520 BC the average life span rarely exceeded forty-five years. Likewise his horse, a gray mare in her twentieth year, was also growing old. Other than his eighteen-year-old son, who was his only living heir, the gray mare was Wu Li’s most prized possession. His wife died the year before, and in those days wives were possessions.

Zack explained all of this to Gideon as they approached Wu Li’s farm under the glow of a full moon. Despite the moon’s radiance the stars glistened brighter than the sun after leaving the darkness of a noon matinee. His heart ached at the recognition that his parents’ generation and the few preceding it succeeded in spewing enough poison into the atmosphere to change the heavens from the brilliance of a 100-watt bulb to that of a 15-watt night-light. Zacharaias drew him out of his thoughts by directing his attention to a small corral where Wu Li kept his beloved gray mare.

The corral was larger than necessary for one old horse, but Wu Li’s love for the mare overrode the more practical considerations of maintaining a lone horse on the Emperor’s land. The more land devoted to keeping the horse, the less land available for farming. When Wu Li built the corral large enough for ten horses his neighbors told him it was a bad thing to devote so much land to a single horse. Wu Li responded by saying, “Who knows what is good and what is bad?”

The fencing of the corral was weathered and weak. Time and its allies, the weather, the sun, and the insects, joined forces to soften the once strong wood planking. Gideon noticed Wu Li’s horse scratching its withers against a single creaking cross-beam that snapped under the pressure. The bony old mare stood there at first, not knowing what to do with her newly found freedom. Once the taller grasses outside her enclosure caught her attention however, she was quick to leave the familiar confinement of her corral.
“Isn’t there anything we can do, Zack?” Gideon asked, surprised at his willingness to help.
“We are here to observe and to learn. There is nothing we can do.”
Wu Li woke with the morning’s light and was quick to discover his loss. To Gideon’s surprise he seemed unconcerned. By mid-day word of Wu Li’s great loss spread throughout the valley, and his neighbor came offering his condolences. Chou Lo was ten years younger than the graying Wu Li, and decades less wise, for indeed, all in the valley considered Wu Li a sage.
“I’ve come to offer my condolences, Wu Li,” Chou Lo said. “Such a terrible loss. Just terrible.”
Wu Li continued working his field in silence, thinking about Chou Lo’s words before he spoke. “Who knows what is good and what is bad, Chou Lo? Surely I do not.”
Chou Lo scratched his head. Certainly, he thought, Wu Li must be losing his mind, for everyone knows that the loss of a horse is a bad thing. He said good-bye, and walked the mile back to his farm.

Wu Li was grateful to have his strong son by his side, for without the old gray mare he would not have been able to complete the day’s work alone. He might have been able to in his younger days, but certainly not now. The hard day’s work was better than any modern-day sleeping pill, and that night Wu Li and his son slept more soundly than ever before.

As Wu Li rose the next morning from his bamboo mat he heard strange noises coming from the recently vacated corral. He shook his son awake, and out they went to investigate. Any other man would have trumpeted Wu Li’s discovery throughout the valley. His son was not surprised at his father’s reaction upon discovering the return of his beloved mare, along with nine wild young horses.
“They must have followed the old mare home, Father,” the son said excitedly. “What good fortune.”
Wu Li turned slowly to his beaming son. “Who knows what is good and what is bad? Repair the corral, my son. There is much work to be done.”
Again word spread quickly through the fertile valley, this time of Wu Li’s exceptionally good luck. Surely the Gods were pleased with Wu Li, they thought, for only the gods could have bestowed such a boon.

The new horses were useless however, until they were broken and trained. To Wu Li’s son fell this most difficult task, a chore he had no familiarity with. However, having great common sense, inherited from his father, he chose the smallest of the herd of nine to train first. But even a small horse is far stronger than a big man. In no time Wu Li’s son was thrown against the corral fence and landed with such force that his right arm snapped on impact. This was a disaster, for Wu Li would be sorely pressed to keep up the farm until his son’s recovery, a fact not unknown by his neighbor, Chou Lo.
As usual, when such events occur, word spread of the disaster that befell poor Wu Li, like burning prairie grass. His neighbor, Chou Lo, once again came bearing condolences.
“Excuse me for being so bold, Wu Li,” Chou Lo began, “but this is most horrendous. Yes, most horrendous indeed. You are old, and now you have no help with the farm. If you cannot keep up your quota, the Emperor’s tax collector will throw you to the dogs. Yes. This is very bad, very bad indeed.”

Wu Li smiled, and his eyes twinkled knowingly. “Chou Lo,” he said, “I have told you this truth before, yet you insist upon seeing everything as good or bad. I will tell you again that it is all mixed together. Who knows what is good and what is bad?"
Chou Lo shook his head and looked at his neighbor Wu Li as though his brains just exited his body through his ears. “If you need help,” he said, “I can spare you my number-three son. You are my friend even though I think you are crazy sometimes.”
“Thank you, Chou Lo. You are a good friend. I will call on number three son if I can no longer do for myself. You must excuse me now, for there is much work to be done by this old man.”

Chou Lo began his trek home, wondering how there could be any good in the broken arm of Wu Li’s son. The answer came the next day. While Wu Li with his two arms and old body, and his son with his one arm and young body were tending the fields they spied in the distance a cloud of dust. Slowly, at the pace of a walking man, the cloud of dust approached the two laborers. By the time the cloud was within half a mile of Wu Li and his son, they knew it was the Emperor’s army on the march. They also knew the army was looking for conscripts to fill its depleted ranks.

A captain of the guard rode up to them on a black steed, twice the size of the old gray mare. He towered above Wu Li and his son, while his mount stomped its feet and snorted his disdain. “In the name of our glorious emperor you are commanded forthwith to present your sons for service in the army of the realm.” With a disgusted look the captain eyed the old man and his crippled son.
“I have only one son,” Wu Li said, “and he stands here by my side.”

“The army has no use for a one-armed man,” the captain said, spitting at the feet of Wu Li, and turning his attention to the corral and the ten horses. “In your son’s stead the army will take your herd of horses. I will send my men to gather them. Good day.”

As the surly captain was about to ride off he hesitated, remembering tales of a sage that had nine young horses and one old gray mare. Knowing that life in battle was at best tenuous he turned back to the old farmer. “I have a question for you, old man, and if you can answer it to my satisfaction you may keep your old nag.”

Wu Li bowed gracefully before the captain who asked, “before I go into battle with my enemies I wish you to teach me about heaven and hell.”

Wu Li looked up at the captain and spit on the ground. “How dare you, of all people, ask me to teach you about heaven and hell. You are a filthy bully, with blood on your sword. You stink. You make me want to retch on the ground from the smell of you. I, teach you of heaven and hell? Why, I doubt that I could teach a lout like you anything. Now get your body out of my sight!”

The captain was stunned that any man would speak to him in such a fashion, let alone such a small and insignificant peasant. His fury rose to a pitch beyond his control. He was speechless with rage and drew his bloody sword and raised it above his head in preparation to slay the wise old farmer.
As his arms began their descent Wu Li looked up and said softly, “That is hell.”

The sword ceased its downward arch as the captain heard and then understood Wu Li’s meaning. He was overwhelmed at the sacrifice Wu Li was willing to make to show him the meaning of hell, and his heart filled with compassion and gratitude. He was finally at peace.

“And,” Wu Li said, about to finish the teaching, “that is heaven.”
The old gray mare was left in the corral, and Wu Li smiled as the captain sped back to his men, who within a fortnight, would all be killed in a bloody battle. “Who knows what is good and what is bad?” Wu Li said as the captain disappeared over the nearest hill.

Bill Marshall