The Dreams of Li Po

As the Chinese poet-drinker Li Po gazed up from his boat at the silvery moon, the twinkling stars appeared to him to be singing too. And if that song had words, those words would surely describe the stars' own complete approval of Li Po's little tunes of drunken laughter.

'Ha!' he cried out. 'Look! All the world's stars shimmering in my wine! A cup of stars! Millions of tiny lights, each shining like the moon’s reflection on the lake, glittering on the water!'

And as the boat tossed gently to and fro, Li Po whistled out loud a tune - a tune that seemed to have scurried up to him from under the rushes and out of the reeds unbidden - a tune he couldn't help but sing, that drifted along across the water and flew into his ear like a tiny hummingbird whispering all its secrets.

‘Ha!’ How full and erratic and loud and bursting was the heart that still beat in his breast. 'What a life!', he sighed, smiling. And once again a little song danced out of his grape-stained lips.

As the warm evening air carried aloft its delightful music, Li Po roused himself enough from his reverie to recall the dream he'd had the night before and thus the reason why, in the first place, he had the prescient inkling to row his boat out all alone at dusk into the heart of this old blue lake.

He continued to sing, but now with purpose.

After a while, out of the silvery night, a magnificent kingfisher appeared, all its colours sparkling, caught in a moonbeam. The bird landed on the boat and stood at the poet's feet, gently holding in its bill a firefly so bright and firey that, when Li Po bent down to look closer, his face lit up as if he were sat by the hearth of a fire. After a pause, its tail still bobbing, the kingfisher let go the firefly whereupon it hovered and buzzed around the poet’s smiling head.

Whoosh! A flash of silver and the kingfisher was gone, yet still the firefly hummed in the air, glowing brightly, magically.

Then, it's mind made up, or so it seemed to Li Po, the firefly flew straight into the lake like a tiny golden dart, fizzing deep into the water like brilliant magnesium. Down, down, down it went, leaving behind in its wake a trail of tiny crystal bubbles.

Soon it was gone, and all became calm once again.

Li Po shuffled a little, got up unsteadily, and peered over the edge of the boat.

Silver ripples lapped the hull as he stared into the darkness of the water.

Almost imperceptibly at first, a faint glow appeared to sway and blur deep beneath the surface of the lake. Brighter it became but distant too it remained for it was deep down and far away. While Li Po fixed his gaze on this tiny golden spot below, he scrabbled around in his bag for a hook and a line. Once found, he untangled the line and coiled it in a loose loop around his arm. Attaching a lead weight and the little hook to its end he took aim at the shimmering target deep in the water. Throwing the line from his hand he watched it quickly unravel, the lead weight breaking the surface of the water, slowly, lazily sinking to the bottom.

Li Po sat down and waited. Indeed he waited a long, long time, chugging all the while on his pipe and pouring himself wine from a flask. And still he waited, staring occasionally down at the glow at the bottom of the water. Sometimes it was bright. Sometimes it was dim. And sometimes it all but disappeared. But still he waited, a faint grin on his happy, leathery old face.

Suddenly the line sprung taut!

And a shower of tiny droplets like gemstones fell upon the water.

From the poet's hand to the surface of the lake the fishing line was tense, straight and quivering. Li Po, aroused from his thoughts, pulled hard at the line and drew it up with both hands. After some time - the cuffs of his tunic soaking wet - the whole of the line was onboard. Breathlessly, Li Po examined that which was flapping violently and comically at the end of his hook - a very big, very fat fish.

Li Po wasn't surprised by this at all, though, and wasted no time in removing the hook. Holding the fish he squeezed open its mouth like a purse, and pulled out of its mouth a crumpled piece of parchment paper. No sooner was this done did Li Po let go of the slimy, wriggly fish which flew straight from his hands back into the water.

Oblivious, Li Po hastily donned a battered pair of spectacles and with massive concentration he very carefully unravelled the wet and withered document.

And this is what it said:

Li Po slowly raised his head as a great wonder dawned upon him.

He unhooked his spectacles and the arms that had raised the paper to his weary eyes now fell down again against his sides.

And then he began to howl with laughter.

Li Po was beside himself. The tears ran down his face. He bellowed and guffawed and roared and sobbed and wailed and groaned in absolute joy. In absolute hysterics. It was the funniest thing in the world! Really, it's impossible to describe just how funny it all was. Supporting himself by holding on to the side of the boat to steady his legs, he giggled helplessly. He tried to regain his composure but the more effort he made the more hilarious everything became.

This was indeed the moment of revelation he had long since stopped looking for.

All the striving after everything, all the self-imposed exile and loneliness and the terrible, insatiable thirst to do exactly the right thing and to know and to know and to know! And for what? To what end? For what purpose?

Well now he knew. He couldn't say it with words (he cared naught for words now) but he knew deep in his heart that this life of difficulty, with all its yearning, desire and striving, that all this was good and necessary in order that we learn just one thing - the knack of listening. To listen deep down into the very soul of things. To listen out for life's great cosmic joke. And when the ear is finally trained upon the laughter that rumbles away deep in the bowels of the earth, then all frightening things are frightening no more.

Gone!

Li Po learned this late in life. In fact, he learned this barely moments ago, just as you were reading this! In the very nick of time!

With immeasurable relief, he finally gave in to that which was shaking his soul. And it was as if all souls everywhere were reverberating at the same frequency as his own, a magic conversation with the secrets of the world, the laughter of souls.

He stood up and stared at the moon with tears in his eyes. He poured himself a little wine and raised his cup to the moon. After drinking back the wine he stretched himself and spread his arms out wide and allowed his body to topple heavily from the boat into the water.

Li Po turned upside down and with a sudden splash of sound he fell into the lake face first. There was no struggle and there was no effort and very soon the poet's aged body had disappeared.

Apart from the gentle lapping of water against the swaying boat, a great stillness fell about the night once more.

And then, like a flash of light, the silvery kingfisher returned to perch itself upon the rim of the empty boat, its eyes nervously bright with the moon. Moments later, with a rush of movement up from the water, appeared the brilliant firefly to hover and hum next to the bird's head.

And so the two remained – the firefly and the kingfisher - paying vigil, as the boat rocked and swayed upon the lake, their souls watching life, life watching them. All was safe and all was still. Peaceful. And if the listener had really learned the knack of listening, it was possible to make out the sound of soft, strange music drifting with the mists across the water.

And it was music like no other, like night secrets turned into melody.

A blue winding mist-music that rises out from among the bent rushes and the swaying reeds - that little boundary between this world and the next.