Pebbles in my Shoes

Pebbles in my shoes.

I scratched lightly at his woven rattan door.
I felt rather than heard his acceptance, and opened the fragile screen.
Quickly I sat upon the dirt floor waiting, my eyes on the old man in the dim recesses of his hut.

How could such a great and famous man live here? I wondered.

Shao Lin, a people’s emperor living the last of life among us; the poor, the dispossessed – the meanest of the people who dug among the refuse of the richer and the richest of our nation.

Shao Lin, who played football with the boys; played with dolls with our sisters.
Drank tea with our mothers and sipped small spirits with our fathers.

Shao Lin who always smiled and, sometimes laughed – in great gushes of emotion which spilled into us and drew us in.

Shao Lin, who conversed with priests on temple steps.

Shao Lin who walked barefoot from the corridors of power to us.
And begged humbly for admittance to our mean and poor existence.

Shao Lin who waited patiently for me to speak my worries.
I could feel him feeling me, settling me so I could speak.

“Shao Lin, I am troubled,” I blurted, embarrassed to silence.
I waited, staring at the dirt floor between us. Wishing to say, but having no words to use.

“Cheng, you have pebbles in your shoes.” Shao Lin stated softly.
I glanced at my bare feet, wondering.

“Shao Lin, how can I have pebbles in my shoes?
I have no shoes.”

“Cheng, you are growing to be a man, you are putting on the shoes of life.
You will collect many pebbles; some will be smooth and round and will cause you only small discomfort.
Others will be sharp and rough and will pain you greatly.”

He leaned toward me, touching my arm, “Do the boys tease you because of your height?”

I shook my head, smiling.

“Oh no, we solved that a long time ago. They accept I am much shorter than they, now they look me in the eye.” I grinned, remembering the times which were sometimes hard, the times which were sure joy.

“Cheng, you took sharp, tiny pebbles and smoothed them, do you see?
It was a hard trial for you, and I watched.”

Shao Lin smoothed his long, thin whiskers as he thought before he spoke again.
He reached into a corner, pulling out a tiny clay pipe and a small drawstring bag, proceeding to stuff the pipe with the leaves from the bag.
I watched him make his pipe.
It seemed like a ritual, a ceremonial filling of the pipe.
I watched the small, measured movements of his fingers.
It seemed they spoke to the air, the earth and to me.
When he finally lit the pipe, drawing in the smoke, holding, then releasing a fine stream of smoke to the ceiling,
I realised I had been holding my breath and only breathing out and in to the music of his hands.

Suddenly Shao Lin said, “You are becoming a man, I see it in your eyes and in your body.
Such a body as yours should not hold you back from your dreams; your spirit is your guide and your mentor, listen to your spirit within.”

Shao Lin leaned again toward me, his eyes fixed to mine, and I looked into his face, expecting nothing, but I found humour, compassion and understanding.

“Shao Lin, I haven’t told you my troubles, though I feel you know them; I am grateful.”
He nodded, but waved with his hand for me to stay,

“Cheng, say to me how you feel.” I thought for a while, attempting to make a wise reply.
But I couldn’t.

“Shao Lin, for me it is different, I cannot play the games that boys and girls play.
The flirting and dances of life they do.
I am attracted to the dance, but I cannot dance.

"There are already pebbles in my shoes because of this, but I think I can make them round so they don’t hurt me.”

Shao Lin smiled, “Cheng, one day you will be a great man, getting many pebbles in his shoes.
One day, you will take off those shoes and throw them away.
One day you will walk lightly upon the land as you do now.”

Shao Lin rose with difficulty, and I rose to face him.
He bowed to me, deeply. It touched my soul.

I returned the bow.

Outside, I again remembered I had not told him of my trouble.

It was just the problem of a child and was gone.