becki digregorio - seven worthies of the bamboo grove
"The Seven Sages of the Bamboo Grove"; a group of seven Taoist scholars and artists who lived in China during the 3rd century C.E., the most important of them being the poet and musician Hsi K'ang (224-263 C.E.). His companions were Juan Chi (210-263) and his nephew Juan Hsien, both of whom were also poets and musicians; Liu Ling (221-300), a great lover of wine; and Hsiang Hsiu, Wang Jung, and Shan Tao. The seven gathered in a bamboo grove near Hsi K'ang's house to practice pure conversation (ch'ing-t'an). They sought harmony with the universe and oneness with the Tao by drinking wine. Their ideal consisted in following their impulses and acting spontaneously. Their outstanding collective characteristic was their sensitivity to the beauties of nature.Hsi K'ang was born into a wealthy family and brought up in accordance with Confucian principles but felt strongly drawn toward Taoism. He practiced the technique, "nourishing the life principle" (yang-hsing). After extensive travels, during which he made the acquaintance of immortals (hsien), he and his wife settled in what is now Ho-nan and gathered a group of friends. A collection of anecdotes that conveys an idea of their life style is extant.
The two Juans were known for drinking wine from a large bowl, which they would occasionally share with the neighbors' pigs. Of Juan Hsien it is related that as a host, he offended against all principles of etiquette by leaving his guests and riding after his eloping mistress.
Liu Ling is said to have traveled in the company of a servant who always carried a bottle of wine and a spade so that he could instantly supply his master with drink or bury him without delay, if worst came to worst. Liu Ling would normally wear no clothes at home. To a somewhat dumbfounded Confucian visitor he explained that he considered the whole universe his home, and his room his trousers. He then asked the visitor what business he had in his trousers."
Lying alone in this dark bamboo grove, Playing on my flute, continually whistling, In this dark wood where no one comes, The bright moon comes to shine on me.