A shaking train went by the suburbs of Tokyo in a calm spring afternoon.

One of the wagons was almost empty: there were only a few women, some elderly folks and a young Aikido fighter.

The young man looked absent-mindedly through the window at the monotony of similar houses and bushes covered with dust.

When the train arrived at one station, the doors opened. All of a sudden, a staggering man came in shouting violent words that made no sense, breaking the quietness.

He was a strong man wearing a construction's uniform. He was dirty and also drunk.

Still shouting, he pushed over a woman carrying a baby who fell on an empty seat. Thankfully, nothing happened to the baby.

The furious worker grabbed and then tried to rip off the metal bar in the center of the wagon. It was visible that one of his hands was wounded and bleeding.

The train went on. The passengers were paralyzed with fear. The young man stood up.

The fighter was in excellent shape. He trained for about 8 hours every day for about 3 years.

He enjoyed fighting and thought himself to be good at it. The problem was that his martial skills had never been tested in a real combat. The students were forbidden to fight because Aikido was The Art of Reconciliation.

He whose mind wishes to fight has lost the link with the Universe.

That was the reason why the young man always avoided getting into fights.

However, deeply in his heart he expected the right opportunity in which he could save the innocent destroying the guilty.

The day has come, he thought to himself, there are people in danger and if I don't do something they might end up getting hurt.

The young man stood up. The drunkard saw an opportunity to channel his wrath.

Ah!, he said, a tough guy! You need to learn some good manners!

The young man gave him a scornful look.

His intentions were to finish him off, but he needed to wait until the man stroke first, so he teased him insolently.

That's it! the man shouted. You will regret this!, and got ready to attack.

Before he could move someone yelled: Hey!

Both men looked at an old gentleman occupying one of the seats.

That tiny man was wearing a tidy kimono and was probably on his 70's.

He did not give the young man any attention, but he happily smiled at the worker as if he had an important secret to tell.

Come here! said the old man in a friendly and colloquial tone.

Come talk to me! he waved at him.

The big man obeyed, but roughly asked: Why the hell do I have to talk to you?

The old man went on smiling: What have you been drinking? he asked with an interested look.

Sake, the man mumbled...and it's none of your business!

With tenderness, the old man started to speak about his life, about the affection he had for his wife and the nights they sat on a wooden bench in the garden, side by side.

We stay there looking at the sunset, watching how our cherry tree grows, said the elder.

Little by little the worker started to relax, and then said: Yes! It is good. I like cherries as well...

They are delicious ! the old man agreed smiling, and I'm sure you also have a great wife.

No, said the man, my wife died.

Smoothly, following the train's balance, the big man started to cry: I don't have a wife or a house. I don't even have a job. All I have left is shame!

Tears poured out of the man's eyes. Meanwhile, the young man was there with all his juvenile innocence and his will to make the world a better place to live, feeling all of a sudden the worst man ever.

The train arrived at the station and the young man got out. He turned around for a last look. The worker lay on a seat and set his head on the old man's lap, who calmed him down with tenderness.

As the train pulled away the young man meditated.

What he intended to solve by strength was sorted with a few gentle words.

He then learned, through a life's lesson, the art of conflict solving.

 Spiritist Moment Team, adapted from a short story in Histórias
da alma, histórias do coração, publishing house: Pioneira.
July 13.2009.