di Antonio Napoli
It was said that a great sword master, after years of battle, had abandoned the art of combat to devote himself solely to reading. The rumor reached the ears of an old disciple of his, who, believing him softened by inactivity, challenged him to a duel with the arrogant certainty of victory.
When they stood face to face in the master’s garden, he gripped his sword with the ease of one who turns a page and moved it with the grace of a hand catching petals scattered by the wind.
The challenger attacked with fury, but every strike was deflected with disarming simplicity. In the span of a breath, he found himself disarmed, on the ground.
The master gazed at him for a moment, then sheathed his sword and turned away.
“Why didn’t you kill me?” asked the former disciple, his voice trembling with shame.
The master paused at the threshold of his home. “Because in all the books I have read, I have not found a single good reason to kill a man. But I have found countless reasons to put the sword at the service of life.”
“Then you condemn me to live with the disgrace of defeat.”
The master turned slightly, his smile both indulgent and admonitory. “I did not defeat you. Your arrogance did. But remember: today’s defeat may be the premise of tomorrow’s victory. And today’s victory is never a certainty for the future. Nothing is. Every duel depends on a thousand factors: the sharpness of the blade, the quality of sleep, the health of the foot, the direction of the wind, the knowledge of the terrain. Even the most refined skill fades without memory, and the greatest ability is useless if not aligned with the mind. If one day you fight again, do so with a balanced mind.”
The man lowered his gaze. “Master, help me understand what a balanced mind is. Until today, I believed I possessed one.”
The old warrior did not answer immediately. He stepped inside, followed by his former disciple, and took a wooden spinning top. With a measured gesture, he set it spinning on the smooth table, as polished as a palm leaf. The top danced with perfect grace, unwavering. Then, just as it was about to fall off the edge, the master prolonged its rotation in a surprising way.
“Watch,” he finally said. “A balanced mind is like this top. It spins steadily, even on the edge of a blade.”
The former disciple watched the small wooden vortex for a long time, and in his heart, he felt an ancient rigidity break.