The Emperor’s Garden: Where Are the Golden Leaves?

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A Zen garden reminds us that fallen leaves and changing seasons are part of its beauty.

There is a Zen story in which a master was teaching the king of Japan the art of gardening. The master trained the king for three years and asked him to create his own garden during this time.

The king worked on the palace garden itself and employed one thousand gardeners to implement everything down to the minutest detail. He brought in the most exotic and colourful plants, created beautiful pathways, ponds, meditation areas and rock sculptures. Everything was swept and cleaned regularly, including dead leaves from the ground and even from the branches.

At the end of three years, the time for the test had come. The king visited the garden a day before the master was to arrive and inspect it. He was satisfied and certain that the master would be very pleased. Everything looked perfect and idyllic, like a picture from a fairy tale.

The next day the master arrived at the garden, accompanied by the king and his gardeners. They waited with bated breath for signs of approval. But the master, normally a man of laughter, had a serious face. His silence was heavy.

The king grew uneasy and began to tremble inside. Would the master fail him in his test? He had worked hard and done everything perfectly. Everything was just right. Finally he asked the master what was the matter.

The master said, “Everything is right, but where are the golden leaves? I do not see any dead leaves, any yellow leaves fluttering in the wind. Without them the garden looks very artificial.”

While removing the dead leaves, the king had never thought that death is also a part of life, not its opposite but its complement. Without it there would be no life. And certainly the master was right. Yes, the garden was beautiful, but it looked as if it were a painting, not real.

The king then understood that beauty is not something one manufactures. Natural beauty is better than beauty created for some purpose. It happens spontaneously, naturally, by itself. You cannot sweep it away.

He realised that it was indeed absurd to disrupt that beauty for the sake of making something beautiful. In fact, only when we disrupt nature does it become ugly.

The king and his gardeners were humbled. They realised that nature by itself is more perfect than anything man can create, and that we should not try to impose something that is not meant to be.

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