"In God's good time," I said, "the shipment will arrive. The matter is
purely ephemeral, after all. If you will attune yourself--"
He rang off.
I turned over the papers on my desk. Looked at with the unclouded eye of
a mystic, how mundane and unnecessary all these pettifogging
transactions seemed. Two kegs of salt halibut for the Cameron Stores,
proofs of the weekly ad. for the _Fishmongers' Journal_, a telegram from
the Uptown Fish Morgue, new tires needed for one of the delivery
trucks--how could I jeopardize my faculty of meditation by worrying over
these trifles? I leaned back in my chair and devoted myself to
meditation. After all, the harassing domination of material things can
easily be thrown off by a resolute soul. I was full of infinite peace. I
seemed to see the future as an ever-widening vista of sublime visions.
My soul was thrilled with a universal love of humanity.
The buzzer on my desk sounded. That meant that the boss wanted to see
me.
Now, it has always seemed to me that to put one's self at the beck and
call of another man is essentially degrading. In the long perspective
of eternity, was his soul any more majestic than mine? In this luminous
new vision of my importance as a fragment of immortal mind, could I,
should I, bow to the force of impertinent trivialities?