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Summer 1981
I was reminded today of when my son was only eight years old. The memory came flooding back to me when a small boy came into the pet shop. I was cleaning the aquarium, admiring the Koi that swam so effortlessly in the tank. The boy also admired the feathery fins, and remarked about the 'whiskers' the fish had. It is the children who relinquish us from reality and enjoy the little fantasy we adults push away with their questions and reasonings.
We, the monks at the temple, had decided to build a new Koi pond for the children to tend. The fish were the babies of the ones we already had in the meditation garden pond. The children in charge of the new pond were to be less than ten years old, to teach them the value of lesser animals and, perhaps, serenity.
However, that was not the lesson they learned.
After transferring the fish, the children stood around the pond, each admiring a fish they had picked out to be their own. They each chose a name for 'their' fish. Master Khan attempted to teach the children that the animals belonged to no man, that it is our duty to help care for the animals and to let them remain free.
Dennis then asked, "If the fish are free, why do we have them in a pond? Is not the lake better?"
Master Khan was unable to answer the innocent question and left to meditate on the answer. At least, that is what I thought he was doing.
Later that night, Peter came to me with tears in his eyes. Oh, how I miss the way his eyes told of his every emotion. "Father, come quick. Phillip's fish -- something is wrong with it."
"Peter, what did Master Khan tell you today about the fish not belonging to any one person?"
"Please, Father. Come with me."
Knowing that the lecture would not be heard, I followed him. The fish was struggling to swim on its side. I knew that within the hour it would be dead. Several of the boys stood around, including Phillip. "You have tended the fish as instructed?" I asked all of them. They each nodded. Most of the children had tears rolling down their cheeks.
"It will die. I am sorry," I apologized. "We shall bury it in the ornamental garden."
Phillip and Peter went to prepare a grave and later, when the fish had given up its fight, buried it.
The next morning I arose, ready to start with lessons in kung fu. I checked in on Peter, ready to chastise him for sleeping in, but he was not in his room. I went to the new pond. He and several of the children were standing around, again with tears in their eyes. As I approached, I saw another fish had died and Peter was scooping it out of the water. I followed him and the others to the garden, where I noticed there were several holes. Peter placed the dead fish in one of them and gently covered it with earth.
"Peter, what are the other holes for?"
"We thought that since the fish were dying, we might as well go ahead and prepare graves for all of them."
It was rational thinking. Since one died, they all would die. Maybe that was one of the reasons Peter had nightmares. Since his mother died, it only made sense for me to die, as well.
A child's mind is complicated, yet simple.
Peter closed the journal, vaguely remembering the events.
"What happened to the fish, Peter?" Annie asked softly, feeling Peter relax next to her. He had come to stay with her after her bout with the flu. Paul had gone off to a convention and Peter had offered to stay with her.
Peter grinned. "About six more died before Master Khan discovered the water had too much chlorine in it. The rest lived after that."