Hakuin looked around the garden with approval. The roji, or garden path, had been perfected by the legendary Sen-no Rikyu who also set up the first independent tea house in Japan. The path was meant to represent the first stage of meditation as the soul leaves behind the mundane world. To Rikyu, the roji was summed up in the lines: I look beyond; Flowers are not, Nor tinted leaves. On the sea beach A solitary cottage stands In the waning light Of an autumn eve. However, as innocuous as such a sentiment may be, it did not go uncontested. Another teahouse authority, Kobori-Enshiu, firmly held that the path was better described as: A cluster of summer trees A bit of the sea, A pale evening moon. The two men never came to blows over it, but Hakuin imagined it must have been a close thing. For his part, he favoured Kobori-Enshiu’s poem: fewer lines. And when it came to symbology, Hakuin, as a long-time practitioner of Zen, had little use for it. There was no question, however that the garden was beautiful. It was in a garden such as this, on an autumn afternoon, that Rikyu had been teaching his son, Shoan, the techniques and skills necessary to the creation and upkeep of a roji. Shoan spent a long time watering and sweeping the garden path and finally came to his father for approval. “Not clean enough,” said Rikyu. Shoan went back to work. Upon finishing, he returned to his father whose only comment was. “Not clean enough.” Once more Shoan swept, watered and cleaned. Once more his father’s only comment was, “Not clean enough.” "Father,” he cried, “there is nothing more to be done. The steps have been washed for the third time, the stone lanterns and the trees are well sprinkled with water. The moss and lichens are shining with a fresh verdure; not a twig, not a leaf have I left on the ground." Rikyu walked over to the tree standing next to the path and gave it a vigorous shake. Red and gold leaves spilled onto the ground below it. “Now it’s clean,” he said. Hakuin’s party was now about to enter the tea house as he pondered the message of the famous story. I’d have punched Rikyu in the face, he thought. “Isn’t the garden lovely?” someone asked him. Hakuin turned to the speaker. “Imagine you are walking through the path of a garden and come across a large pile of leaves. Under this pile is a man. He has no arms and no legs. Now tell me, how do you address him?” Nobody spoke. “Russell,” said Hakuin and stooped to enter the building.