Dreamworks- Kung Fu Panda, "The Legend of the White Crane"
The Story of the Goose and the Sawn
Climbing the steps that led to the Jade Palace, Mr. Ping, a small walking stick in hand, could only look at the enthusiastic giddiness that his son possessed as he made his ascent to the gate and smile. He knew that this was the beginning of a much larger story, one that did not likely include him; and it pained him to think that in the span of 765 steps, from the base to the summit at the gates, that he would lose everything he had come to know. Waddling as carefully as he could, if only to preserve what memories he would have, Mr. Ping began to think, and as he thought he began to worry.
"Po" Mr. Ping began, raising his voice a bit, for Po was a few steps in front of him, "Are you sure about this?"
Po nodded, "Yeah" he answered excitedly, "its goanna be great! I'll be learning from the Masters themselves. Tigress' fists, Monkey's staff of righteousness, Mantis's puncturing wound, Viper's tail slash! All of their signatures. I might even get to meet Master Shifu, this is great!"
Mr. Ping nodded carefully, measuring Po and trying to read him; he wanted to be sure that this is what he wanted. When Crane first came to him Mr. Ping thought nothing of it, taking the bird's offer as a mere visit, it was only after did he realize that he was offering Po a chance to learn kung-fu and become the very thing that Mr. Ping swore he never would be.
"This can only bring trouble" Mr. Ping said to himself, not really caring if Po heard him or not, for the time had long since passed that Po listened to his grievances when it came to kung-fu, "Kung-fu is for certain types of people. Risk-takers. Not noodle makers and their sons, especially not pandas. The day that Po becomes a kung-fu master is the day that I become a soothsayer."
Po began dancing up the stairs as if he had just won a prize for over-enthusiasm, having unhealthy obsessions, and unrealistic goals and was ignorant in that he possessed all of these things and many more that would make even Mr. Ping, who also had some knowledge of basic of kung-fu history, living in the city as well as being a former collector, seem competent.
"Po" Mr. Ping said, starting over, nervousness and fear settling in, "Just remember, if it doesn't work out you always have a place. I know it's not what you want and I'm sorry, I did my best, I just hope that you don't-"
Mr. Ping was cut off with a massive bear hug, Po having listened for a few seconds and taking in the meaning of his father's words.
"Don't worry" Po replied, "It's not like I'm going away forever. It's just one day, one session that's all. It's not like they're going to recruit me or anything."
Mr. Ping nodded, he still had his doubts of course, he did not want to air them in and leave on bad terms; but he also made no effort in hiding his discontent. Breaking away from the embrace, the goose ushered Po forward and began to walk beside him, after a few moments of silence, Mr. Ping stared at his son, his eyes hopeful and full of pride.
"You know when I first opened my noodle shop I had wanted to go into the tofu business" Mr. Ping declared, "But noodles were cheaper and easy to make."
Po chuckled to himself, for he had heard this story countless times before.
"Yeah I know" Po exclaimed, "You opened the shop, started making the noodles and then when people started coming in you didn't want to change anything because you thought that if you did they would be unhappy."
Mr. Ping smiled, laughed and shook his head, remembering the days when the line was out the door and around the block; all for cheap noodles.
"You know me too well" Mr. Ping admitted, "But there is another reason why I never went into the tofu business. At the time it seemed rather silly, maybe it still is, but there was once a time when I was young, and foolish, and arrogant and stupid, that I was in love."
Po stood beside himself, it was difficult to believe that his father, who had known to be a bit of an eccentric, as well as laughably clumsy and a general goof when he wanted to be, had once been in love. The idea was completely foreign to him, if only because he had not had a similar experience, being sheltered and naïve when it came to such matters.
"What was she like?" Po asked, half curious, but mostly humoring his father, who seemed hell bent on having the conversation.
Mr. Ping shrugged nonchalantly, partially giving his answer and not really giving it at the same time. Sighing and searching for a place to begin, Mr. Ping stopped and casually sat down on the steps, bidding Po do the same; he did so, after which the goose twiddled his feathers for a moment and swayed his feet as if he were a child, his legs being particularly short, as well as an attempt, albeit a desperate attempt, at childish humor.
"It was a long time ago you see" Mr. Ping began as he looked over the city, noticing the lush green hills and the blooming trees, "Well before you were born. I just come into the city after spending some time in the west. My apprenticeship was complete, my grandfather having sent me away to study the art of noodle-making and other cuisines. It was not a day after I returned that I saw the most beautiful creature in all the world."
Po rolled his eyes, he could only guess where the story was going and immediately denounced anything that Mr. Ping had to say, if only because he had heard it in countless other stories before.
"Let me guess" Po interjected, "Love at first sight right? Come on Dad, that's an old scene, it's been done."
Mr. Ping laughed and shook his head, for Po could not have been further from the truth, in fact, so far was he from it that it was almost insulting.
"Life doesn't work that way" Mr. Ping corrected, "No, it was much harder. You see, swans and geese aren't really compatible, true there are some similarities, but the differences are many and great."
Po raised his eyebrows and huffed, "What a minute?" Po continued, "She was a swan? Are you telling me-"
Mr. Ping shrugged again and shook his head pitifully, answering Po's question before he even finished it.
"Like I said" Mr. Ping defended, "I was young and stupid. We didn't have a lot in common at first to tell you the truth. In fact, in the beginning we couldn't stand each other. She would want to go on these adventures: to the jungles, the lakes, the mountains, and see things no one else had seen before. I wanted to stay in the city. I had seen enough for the world, it was jarring; I needed something stable."
Po scratched his head, for now the story wasn't making anything in the way of sense, it was contradictory and partially annoying, there was no action to speak of, nothing to keep him interested for any length of time; yet, if only because he wanted to understand, and in part to be nice to his father, Po humored him further and pried.
"So what did you do?" he asked, "How can you love someone and not get along? That doesn't make any sense."
Mr. Ping casually waved, signaling for Po to stand; after which he continued up the steps, waddling as so to save time.
"What do you think I did?" the goose said rhetorically, "I went with her."
Before Po could retort, Mr. Ping turned and immediately gave an answer, if only to speed up the process and possibly, the panda's understanding.
"Love can make you do things you never thought possible, even things that scare you."
Po sighed, on a personal level he hated it when his father started giving advice, it made him seem as if he were inferior in some way, as if there was always another lesson, always another thing to consider or an obstacle to overcome. The only thing that Po wanted to do, more than anything else in the world, was kung-fu, even just a little bit would have satisfied his appetite, yet, here he was, listening to his father talk about old flames on the steps of the palace. Close, and yet so far from where he wanted to be.
"What's your point Dad?" Po said anxiously, "That love is the greatest power we can have? That fear is an illusion and the only that we have to fear is our own insecurity?"
Mr. Ping wanted to slap Po as hard as he could, for even though he had spoken the truth, or at least part of it, he had done it with so arrogance and disrespect that it negated every single word, burying it with sarcasm and frustration. Instead of this however, Mr. Ping, heeding the words of his long dead father, kept his composure and continued his story, hoping that by the end of it, Po would understand.
"Once, we had come to a waterfall. This was after weeks and weeks of excursions and escapades, we had come to know each other. We knew each other's family histories: she came from a long line of artisans, from bakers to blacksmiths; we knew what foods we liked, what we didn't like, our favorite poems and places to relax. We had become fast friends. Yet, there was always something more, underneath the surface. It was by that waterfall, surrounded by trees, lily pads and mayflies that we began courtship."
Mr. Ping stopped for a moment, a small tear was in his eye; it was not a sad tear, but a happy one, full of memory and hope, the kind that one dares to let fall. Smiling as he felt it run down his cheek, Mr. Ping began to laugh inexplicably, it was soft and gentle, but constant.
"She died soon after. One day she just got sick and never recovered. Oh, she would have loved to meet you Po. You have her spirit."
Po, who had been lagging behind for the last few minutes, still within earshot, was confused at Mr. Ping's behavior; for he was speaking of someone who had died, someone he had loved, and laughing as if it were the happiest thing in the entire world.
"Why is that funny?" Po asked as he caught up, "She's dead. How can you be laughing about that?"
Mr. Ping shook his head in denial and gently waved him off, for Po was misinterpreting him entirely.
"You misunderstand" Mr. Ping clarified, slowly calming himself to prevent further confusion, "I was crushed. I didn't eat for almost seven days, practically starved myself to death. It was only after that I came to realize in those few moments that we had, we experienced everything."
The goose turned to Po and placed his wing on the panda's shoulder, trying to connect. Po, in turn, noticed his eyes and how bright they seemed, almost as if the universe had taken the night sky and had placed all the stars within them. It was a strange analogy, but still Po thought about it, and because of this, recognized the gravity of the conversation and the weight that Mr. Ping's words carried, and so he listened, both with his ears and with his heart.