The Three Sages and "I" —Do Not Pour Water Without a Vessel—

I cannot seem to get my studies to stick.

Even when I open my notebook, the wind just flips the pages.
The more I think, "Why can't I remember this?", the more a fog settles in my heart.

It was at that moment.
A small bonfire was burning in the distance.
Three men were there, as if they had stepped across the boundaries of time.

One was barefoot, pointing at the sky.
One had a notebook on his knees, reading something intently.
The other was doing nothing, just lying on the grass.

“Oh, you have the look of someone who has stuffed too much in and is about to spill over,”
said the man who had been pointing at the sky—Diogenes—it was.

“I’m not trying to stuff anything in.
I just... I can't remember it.”
I retorted reflexively.

“Hmm. That means you are pouring water before you even have a vessel.”
“A vessel?”
“Yes. Study only enters once you have a vessel.
The vessel is the ‘form of thought.’ It is philosophy.”

“But they don’t teach us that at school.”

To me, who muttered that, another man—Montaigne—spoke gently.

“Philosophy can be learned anywhere.
Not just at a desk.
In fact, philosophy sprouts from its roots by touching ‘nature.’”

He continued, stroking the grass with his finger.

“Look at the tree. It grows straight toward the sun.
But you see, in the places you cannot see—the roots are spread deep.
If you want to grow the ‘branches’ of study, you must first grow the ‘roots.’”

I looked up at the tree.
Thoreau, who had said nothing beside me, quietly opened his eyes and listened to the wind.

“How do I grow the roots?”
“First, by touching the world,”
Diogenes spoke again.
“The color of the morning glow, the coldness of a stone, the silence behind a person’s words.
Feel them. From there, ask ‘Why?’”

“Why?”
“Why does the tree grow straight? Why am I impatient? Why do I think study is necessary?
This ‘why’ is what will polish your vessel.”

“But that’s a detour. Everyone else is getting good test scores and moving ahead...”

Montaigne laughed.
“There is no need to be impatient. If the branches grow first, they will fall in a storm without roots.”

Thoreau stood up quietly and placed a hand on my shoulder.
His hand was cold, but it had a warmth like that of a deep forest.

“You are not unprepared to learn.
You are in the middle of cultivating the ‘soil’ for learning.
No one can see it, but it is the most important thing.”

That night, as I looked at the starry sky, I thought:
Study was not about stuffing in knowledge.
It must be something that happens on the journey of building the vessel that is ‘me.’”