A very long time ago, there lived a butcher. One day, as he prepared an ox for dinner, a man walked up and marveled at his skill. He moved with the grace of a dancer, separating hide from flesh, meat from bone and muscle from muscle. He explained that average butchers destroy a knife every month, because they hack. Good butchers use up a knife each year, because they cut. Yet, he had been using the same blade for 19 years and it was still razor sharp, because he worked in harmony with the animal and the world around him. I think of the Taoist butcher whenever I prepare my venison. Wh...