Three parables: The Parable of the Stolen Muse, How the Runner Got Lost, and Is It Possible to Swim the Pacific Ocean?
Hey, folks! Here are snippets, in the form of parables, from Witch Hunt and Deviants Too that I thought you might like (all three copyright 2007 Richmond West):
The Parable of the Stolen Muse
Once, in the ancient world of Chronos, there lived a poor shepherd boy. He barely had a penny to his name, but he cared not for such things. Often he would pass a river, a beautiful, flowing river. Whenever he was thirsty, he would drink from it. And the water was so refreshing, so pure. It replenished him in ways beyond imagination.
One day, as he passed the river, he reached into his pocket, and realized he had but three pennies left. But he cared not for such things.
This river, this beautiful river, deserves these more than I, the poor waif thought on a whim. And so he tossed his three pennies into the river. He had nothing left in his pocket. And he went on his merry way. Foolish, perhaps, but happy.
Another day, as the poor waif passed the river, he saw a beautiful woman bathing. He felt guilty for looking at her naked body, but he could not help himself. He was mesmerized, enthralled…she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Enticed beyond imagination, he tried to get closer.
But a twig snapped.
In deep shame, the poor boy closed his eyes, hoping somehow to disappear. He was sure the woman would be angry. And so he thought about just running away.
But when he opened his eyes, he saw that she was smiling at him. Her eyes were as blue as the river, as if they were part of the river.
“Hello, shepherd boy,” the dazzlingly beautiful woman said. “Did I see you the other day, throwing your last three pennies away? Some would say that was rather foolish.”
“Well, I, uh…I didn’t care. I don’t care much for money,” the shepherd boy said.
“I am the Goddess of the River,” she said. “Thank you for the pennies. That was very sweet. I’d like to give you something in return. Here, let me slip this into your pocket. There. You may go now.” The woman dove into the river and disappeared, and the embarrassed waif went on his merry way.
Several days passed, and then the poor boy went into town one day. He saw a poor beggar woman, holding a cup and asking for handouts. The poor boy glanced into the cup, and saw that the poor woman had but three pennies to her name.
“It will be cold tonight,” the poor boy said, “but I have a warm stack of hay under some shelter – you can sleep there if you like.”
“Thank you,” the poor woman said. And so the boy took her home.
When she disrobed, the boy realized she was a woman of stunning beauty. Enchanted, enthralled, his heart beat very fast.
“I would like to date you, poor shepherd boy,” the beautiful woman said.
The boy loved the sound of that. He had never seen anyone so beautiful. But alas, his heart was clouded with doubt.
“Beautiful maiden, I would never be able to keep you. No one would ever believe we belonged together. Surely someone will steal you away from me, for you have such awesome beauty, and I am but a poor shepherd boy.”
“That may be so,” the dazzling woman said with a smile. “But you’re my shepherd boy. Just make sure, as we walk together, that you tell everyone you know about me. And every once in a while, check your pockets.” And then she winked.
As the beautiful woman held the poor boy’s hand, they walked around town together. As he had been instructed, he told all his friends, and even some strangers, about his new love.
Alas, as the poor boy feared, this striking woman of great beauty began to attract the attention of numerous men. He would see them watching her. Soon he realized he would never be able to keep her.
As expected, one night some men in hoods came and stole her away. The boy watched in sorrow as they took her, knowing he was powerless to stop them. For some odd reason, though, the woman was smiling. In fact, the poor boy thought he saw the woman wink at him. But after she was carried away, the poor waif thought he had just imagined the wink.
In fact, in the days ahead, several men came by and told the poor boy that he was just imagining things. “Surely you are not right in the head,” they would say. “Maybe you need medicine.” And on some days, the poor boy would believe them.
Soon, in great sorrow, the poor boy could hardly sleep. He wandered around looking destitute. This caught the attention of several people, who worried that the boy wasn’t sleeping.
One day a stranger saw the boy.
“Are you not getting enough sleep?” the stranger asked.
“No, I guess not,” the boy replied.
“Well, just remember: always check your pockets. You never know when there might be three pennies there.”
The boy was stunned – he had forgotten about his pocket. And so he dug around for three pennies.
But there were no pennies there.
He did notice, however, a slip of paper, with an address on it. Curious, the boy searched around, and finally found the address. It was an old, abandoned shack, on the outskirts of nowhere.
The boy knocked on the shack door.
“Come in,” a female voice said.
The poor boy entered, and was overjoyed! There she was, the love of his life! Right before his eyes!
“Oh, Sodol-kai, you wise fool. I am your Muse. You were always my favorite. There was never a doubt! And I will always love you.”
She held out her arms.
Sodol-kai fell into them, and soon cried himself to sleep.
How the Runner Got Lost
Once, a young runner began a marathon with a veritable host of competitors. But they were all faster. But the poor boy, he just loved running. So he jogged at his own pace, aware of the others around him.
But one day, he closed his eyes and just kept jogging. He jogged and he jogged and he jogged. Occasionally he would pop open his eyes, just to see where he was. He noticed the hills beneath his feet, he noticed the streams and the living waters, he avoided Oil Slicks, and he would sometimes notice the mountains. The mountains would tell him stories, stories of kings and empires, and treacheries past.
And then the runner was tired, and paused to catch his breath. But then, to his anguish, he noticed that no one was with him. He was alone, lost in the woods. So very alone.
He found his way to a human settlement, but they thought he was nuts. He tried to speak to them, but they could not comprehend.
This is so simple, he thought. I’m just trying to tell them that I got lost. Why is this such a difficult concept to grasp?
But then the runner realized that he was dirty, stinky, and unshaven.
Perhaps this was why they did not understand them.
Is It Possible to Swim the Pacific Ocean?
A Song of Sodol-kai
One day a fantastic swimmer noticed that other swimmers received fine medals and awards for swimming the English channel. They would brag in front of the television cameras about the fine swimming schools they went to, in order to achieve their great feats.
And so the fantastic swimmer, secretly trained by a former Olympic swimmer, decided he would swim the English channel, considered quite a daunting feat by the swimmers of his day. But he would do it at night, when no one was looking.
Despite how arduous the task was said to be, he found it rather easy. He barely broke a sweat.
And so he wanted a new challenge. He looked at the globe. This time he decided to swim from Greenland to Iceland. It was a little chilly, but frankly, it was not that difficult a task.
And so then he eyed the distance between Brazil and Africa. And one day he tried it…in secret.
It made him somewhat tired, but…he made it!
He then remembered a famous line from an Eastern text: The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.
The swimmer pondered the identity of the Olympic swimmer who had trained him and sent him, and he began to realize who it was – actually, it was someone quite well known in this world, but whose feats were often co-opted by greedy, and unfortunately less capable, swimmers.
The fantastic swimmer thought about trying to swim the entire Atlantic next, but then decided against that. He wanted an even bigger challenge, nay, the biggest. And so then he asked himself: what is the greatest distance? He looked at his globe again.
The swimmer began to eye the Pacific Ocean.
From the Panama Canal to China? He reflected on this task. Surely he would need help. Perhaps a boat could shadow him. At night, when he needed to rest, the boat could drop anchor, and he could climb aboard and sleep. The next day, refreshed, he could swim from the same point again. The boat would have to be well-stocked with provisions, he reflected. Surely he would need much help. His friends would all have to help him.
But he already had planned the line he would use when he reached China. When the news reporters and cameras showed up, microphones sticking in his face, he would say with a wink and a wicked smile: “You know what the secret beauty of it all is? I never really learned how to swim.”
