Cook Ding was cutting up a cow for Duke Wenhui. With a touch of his hand a lunge of his shoulder a stamp of his toot a bend of his knee, zip, his knife slithered, never missing a beat, in time to "the dance of the mulberry forest," or the "Jingshou Suite". Lord Wenhui exclaimed "How amazing that your skill has reached such heights!
Cook Ding put down his knife and replied:
"What I love is the Way, which goes beyond skill. When I first butchered cows, I saw nothing but cows. After three years, I never saw it as a whole. At present, I deal with it through my spirit rather than looking at it with my eyes. My perception stops and my spirit runs its course. I rely on the natural patterning striking at the big openings leading into the main cavities. By following what is inherently so I never cut a ligament or tendon, not to mention a bone. A good cook changes his knife once a year, because he cuts. An ordinary cook changes his knife every month, because he hacks. This knife of mine is nineteen years old. It has carved several thousand cows, yet its blade looks like it had just came from the grindstone. There are spaces in the joints and the blade has no thickness. So, when something with no thickness enters something with space, it has plenty of room to move about. This is why after nineteen years it seems fresh from the grindstone.
However, when I come to something complicated, I inspect it closely to prepare myself. I keep my eyes on what I am doing and proceed deliberately, moving my knife imperceptibly. Then, with a stroke, it all comes apart like a clod of earth crumbling. I stand there, my knife in my hand, looking all around, enjoying my success. Then I clean the knife and put it away."
Lord Wenhui said: "Excellent! By listening to Cook Ding I learned how to nurture life."
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