When he arrived on Japan’s shores in the late 16th century, John Blackthorne, protagonist of Shogun, was a prisoner of war. Now, having gained the favor of the local lord, he’s got his own house, replete with food, swords, and even a small staff.
Despite speaking very little Japanese, Blackthorne takes to Uejiro, his gardener. One day, Uejiro erects a large slab of black slate in the zen part of Blackthorne’s yard. Placed right amid the grey dry rocks, the slab doesn’t really serve a purpose, but Uejiro says: “Without a good rock, a garden is just a place of growing.”
Whether he fully understands Uejiro’s sentiment or not, Blackthorne agrees and happily goes about his day. When he returns home, everyone in town seems upset. People are crying in the street, and the staff at his house is eerily quiet. “What happened?” Blackthorne asks.
Fuji, his maid, responds shakily after a big gulp: “Uejiro is dead.” John’s jaw drops to the floor, and that’s where it stays as Fuji explains his gardener ultimately died over only a handful of John’s words, spoken casually yet terribly lost in translation. In the end, for Uejiro, it was between breaking his house lord’s rules or continuing to endure a situation that upset the whole village—namely a rotting animal corpse on John’s premises.
While John won’t regain his composure any time soon, his staff keeps trying to assuage him. “Don’t worry,” they say. “Uejiro was sick anyway. He volunteered. He died for a great cause.” Will John ever understand? Unlikely. But to Uejiro, his choice made perfect sense.
If the animal had kept on rotting, besides the stench, a dangerous illness could have spread. And if the villager’s unrest had kept festering, they might soon have turned on his master. For Uejiro, the day he decided to commit a deed punishable by death was simply the day he became a rock in John’s garden—for without one, it would have remained only a place of growing.
Growth is a means, not an end. Unchecked, plants, money, habits, they all sprawl into undesirable directions. Be they mere design elements or centerpieces, rocks—still, immovable foundations—anchor our being, our activities, even life itself.
Foster your gardens as best as you are able. But remember: Without a good rock, they’ll do nothing but grow—and the places you tend to are meant to be much more than just vegetation.