A Dancing Cook Cutting up an Ox

A cook was cutting up an ox for Lord Wen-Hui. With each blow of his hand, each hoist of his shoulders, each step of his foot, each thrust of his knee, each hiss of cleaved flesh, each howl of the axe, all were in perfect harmony – rhythmical like the dance of the mulberry groves, simultaneous like the chords of Ching-shou.


“Well done!” exclaimed the Lord. “This is truly artfulness.”

“Your servant,” replied the cook “has surrendered to the Tao. This is better than artfulness. When I first began to cut up oxen, I saw before me simply whole ox. After three years of practice, I saw no more whole animal. And now, I work with my mind and not with my eyes. When my senses bid me stop, but my mind urges me on, I fall back upon eternal principles. I follow such openings and cavities as there may be, according to the natural constitution of the animal. I do not try to cut across joints and ligaments, let alone the large bones.

“A good cook changes his axe once a year – because he cuts. An ordinary cook changes it once a month – because he hacks. But I have cut up thousands of oxen in the past nineteen years and the blade of my knife is still as sharp as freshly from the whetstone. In the joints there are always spaces, and since the blade is without thickness, all you need to do is to fit it in each space. Though here the gaps are widened, and the blade finds enough room. It is thus that I have had my axe nineteen years long, as though it came from the whetstone.

“Yet, when I come upon the hard parts, where bones, tendons and ligaments intertwine, I concentrate on those parts, keep my hands steady, move one step at a time, and gently apply my blade until the whole animal falls apart like earth crumbling to the ground. After it is all done, I take out my axe, lift myself up, assess my work, and feel really proud of what I have achieved. I then give my knife a good cleaning and carefully put it away.”

“Bravo!” cried the Lord. “From the words of this cook I have learned how to nurture life.”

If the cook had such fun cutting up oxen, why can’t we all figure out a way to enjoy what we do? It is all about attitudes. We can be either upset about or appreciate the half full of water in the cup. As we step beyond the attitude thing and dive into the details of what we do – observing how the puzzles come together, watching how the elements of the puzzles interact with each other, and figuring out how we can add our magic touches, we will surely come to the realize that our jobs – no matter what they are – are indeed very fascinating, just like that the cook did with his slaughtering job.

How many times have we made new breakthroughs after declaring that we had exhausted every possibility? There are a lot of things we can do for continuous advancement – incremental improvement in accuracy, precision and efficiency through continuous practice, borrowing ideas from other fields, attacking the issues from different angles, combining different ideas together, and creating the ideas that are completely different from the previous ones. All those efforts contribute to confidence building along with improved job performance. And confidence is the foundation of true joy.

It is true that we are facing a tough world and sometimes feel overwhelmed by the obstacles. The common problem is that, if we examine our engagements, we might find that we have been stuck in the battles either not worth fighting or having no hope to win. We’d better to figure out what’s most valuable for our lives and let everything else go. Without the instinct for bloody fight and exploitation, we will likely to be in much better position to follow nature’s course, be in harmony with all around us and, incidentally, achieve our goals.