Credit: Stuart McLachlan

Jiji-san stood up, steadying himself with the table. I handed him his cane and helped him to the bedroom. Jiji-san's robe fell off as he got into bed. He lay there in his pajamas, frail like rice paper, as I pulled the cover up to his chin. He said, "When you come tomorrow, David, you can tell me about your problem at work."

"Of course, Jiji-san," I said. "Tomorrow we'll do origami together."

My grandfather smiled and closed his eyes. I went to the front room, where I collected my hat and jacket. Yukio said, "I'm sorry we weren't able to help you, David."

"It's all right. I should've known. I'm working with complicated issues right now. I shouldn't have expected Jiji-san to have an instant answer."

"You're used to thinking of your grandfather as enlightened."

"Yes. He's brilliant. He sees everything, all the hidden things no one else can. I thought he could help." I grimaced, remembering his distant look as we sat at the table. "Instead, he just talked about pointing fingers. I don't think he was even listening to me."

"There is a Zen saying – part of a koan. Don't confuse the pointing finger with the Moon."

I paused, my hat halfway on. "What?"

"It's a koan about koans themselves – about enlightenment. A teacher can point at the Moon, but that is not the same as the student seeing the Moon. Many students see the pointing finger and think it is the Moon itself."

I stared at the door, lost in thought. "Thanks, Yukio."

"You are welcome, David. Please come tomorrow. Taro-sama is happier when he sees you."

"I will."

I left the house in low spirits. I wasn't a child, and shouldn't have let my memories mislead me. Jiji-san wasn't all-powerful. He didn't have all the answers.

I caught a taxi to the station, and absentmindedly tipped the cabbie more than I'd meant to. He grinned as I signed the payment slip. I entered the station and scanned my ticket. The AI thanked me as it showed the train schedule.

I was thinking about physics as I waited on the platform – remembering Jiji-san's tutoring. Such a world we live in – so primitive to the Om, yet incomprehensible to a Neanderthal. It's the same world, but it might as well be another planet. When my train arrived, I chose a seat by the window. The Boston lights shone like a star cluster.

As the train sped out of the station, I saw my answer. It was less like a dancing carbon dream, and more like stepping out of the way.