The First and the Last

I lived a distance from school a journey I made four times a day. I wandered slowly down in the morning wishing I was going elsewhere, I ran at great speed there and back at lunchtime and wandered slowly home at night. The journey home I took the long path through the field, even then I had a love of nature born from my Sunday walks with my father.


One day I was followed by one of the school bullies, he was threatening me with all sorts of threats if I did not do what he wanted. I was trembling in my shoes, what was I going to do? I could run, but I knew that would be useless. Without thinking I turned and threw my fist in his direction. It connected with his face causing a cut to his lip and causing his nose to bleed. The next morning the bully was not in the line of pupils waiting to go into school. The teacher came out and called my name telling me I was to go and see the head teacher. There in his room was the bully and his mother. The head teacher said to the mother, “Do you see what I mean about the difference in size?” nevertheless I was given a lecture about fighting. A lecture I really did not need because I had already made up my mind that what had happened would never ever occur again.

There is the wonderful story of the soldier and the Zen Master. The soldier came to ask if there really was a paradise and a hell. The master asked, “Who are you?” The soldier with great pride said, “I am a samurai.”

“You a soldier,” said the master, “look at you, who would ever want you to guard his gate? You look more like a beggar than a soldier.” The soldier grew very angry and drew his sword. “Ah you have a sword,” said the master, “I am sure it is so dull it is of no use.”

The soldier raised the sword to strike. The master said, “Here open the doors to hell.” The soldier thought for a moment and put his sword in its sheath. “Here open the doors to paradise.” said the master.

Whether we live our life as if a living hell or a paradise full of friends and love is a matter of the choices we make.

I guess if I had boasted of beating the school bully I might have had a few more punches to throw. But here I am all those years later still remembering the one and only punch I have ever thrown.

This post is linked to my other blog where I discuss the artwork used:- Alpha-Omega