Confucius's mother was 18 when he was born and his father was 70. The old man croaked shortly thereafter and Confucius's mother raised the boy by herself. The legend of Confucius's mother, who may have been Menicus's mother, is mixed up, but here is the version I heard last night:
When Confucius was young, he and his mother lived near a market. The boy started wheeling and dealing and acting like a hawker, so his mother said, "this is no place to raise my son." So she moved to a house near a cemetery. But then the boy started praying and gesticulating and acting like a priest, and she said, "this is no place to raise my son." So she moved to a house near a school. Then the boy started reading, and studying and acting polite, so she said, "this is the place to raise my son."
"Do you get it?" asked my friend Chang.
"Uh, umm, I think so."
"The market is life," he explained, "and the cemetery is death. School is real life. You must first study life and then study death before you study real life."
Saturday, July 7, 2007
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