Tales of the Taoist Immortals (eBook)

Introduction WhenI was growing upinHong Kong, my grandmother told me many stories about the Taoist immortals. We'dsitcross-leggedon her bed together and while she sewed, she would tell me how Iron Crutch Li(T'ieh-kuai Li) got his name, how Fan Li and Hsi Shih helped the king of Yuehdefeat the kingdom of Wu, and how Mah Ku saved the people of her town byimitating the crowing of roosters. Theimmortals are very much a part of my culture. The Chinese people's belief inimmortals goes back to the ancient times of prehistory and legend, centuriesbefore Taoism became a philosophy and a spiritual tradition. Chinese childrenin traditional families grew up listening to stories of the immortals, and Iwas no exception. Even before I had heard of Taoism and practiced itsteachings, I was familiar with the exploits of the immortals. Mygrandmother was not the only person who told me these tales, there were alsoregular storytelling sessions on the radio. I remember one program especiallywell: it aired in the late afternoon, and itfeaturedactors who not only had an endless repertoire of stories but could alsoimpersonate the voices of women, men, and children. I looked forward to everyshow and rarely missed one. It was from these on-air storytellers that Ilearned about Lu Tung-pin's pillow and his dream, Chen Hsi-yi's game of chesswith the Sung emperor, and Fei Chang-fang's friendship with the man in the gourd. WhenI was a child, the stories of Taoist immortals were also dramatized in opera.Before Hong Kong became a bustling city crowded with skyscrapers and shoppingcenters, Chinese opera troupes performed frequently in the streets. Onthe day before a performance, a street, usually one near a marketplace, wouldbe closed. Workers would build the stage, set up rows of benches, and erectlittle tents where the performers could rest between acts. Large scaffoldsdecorated with flowers and banners would be placed around the stage and theseating area, and written on the banners were the names of the principalsingers. Whenever a troupe visited my neighborhood, our entire household—,myparents, my grandmother, myself, and the servants—,would go to theperformances. I still have vivid memories of those shows, they were the onlyoccasions when I was allowed to stay up late. The operas didn't begin untildark, and, on a summer night in Hong Kong, that usually meant nine. InChinese opera, the performers were not only singers but also acrobats andmartial artists. The stories of the immortals—,Chang Tao-ling's battle with thelords of evil, Chu Yuan-chang's (the founder of the Ming dynasty) treacherousbetrayal of his friends, Kiang Tzu-ya using his magic to defeat the evilemperor—,came alive as the performers sang, whirled, sparred, and somersaultedaround the stage. Then,there are the legends as told by the professional storytellers in Banyan TreePark. When I was younger, the park was located along a stretch of waterfrontnear a typhoon shelter. Every night the park, which consists of an area arounda huge banyan tree, would be crowded with food vendors, gamblers, storytellers,acrobats, and martial artists displaying their skills. I distinctly rememberone burly man walking around with a sign that read 'Eagle clawexpert—,will accept challenges from any style.' As a teenager, I was notallowed to go to the park alone. I was told there were pickpockets, kidnappers,and all sorts of mean people hanging out in that section of town at night. Onlywhen my older cousins visited was I permitted to go to the park with them. BanyanTree Park is known as the Storytellers' Park for good reason:...