High in the mountains of a distant land there once lived a man so
incredibly old that his life no longer had any plot. He was so old
that his very name had faded from the memories of all those around
him, and he was known only as "The Wise One." He spent his later
days hearing and commenting on people's problems and sitting among a
dozen or two disciples who waited patiently to hear all that was
asked of him and all that he spoke. Sometimes an entire day would
pass when not a syllable opened his lips; whether this was from a
temporary lack of strength or simply because he had nothing to say,
no one knew.
While his reputation among his disciples and a few others was that
he possessed amazing wisdom and insight, many people thought him to
be an idle and incoherent fool because, they said, he never provided
a practical solution to the problem he was asked about. Instead he
would ask a simplistic question or tell a story whose point was so
obscure that many left his presence shaking their heads.
Some said that in his youth he had earned and spent large quantities
of money, only to turn from what he saw as a life of vanity to the
pursuit of wisdom. Others said that had that been true, he was
proved all the more fool for giving up the good life for a life of
hardship that was of little use to anyone. Thus, for every person
who called him The Wise One with reverence, twenty pronounced his
name with irony.
Of the stories still not erased by the hand of time, consider these
and judge the man as you will:
* * *
One day a man, clearly troubled by the cares of life, came to The
Wise One and spoke thusly:
"My son, to whom I had entrusted my farm, last week stole my best
cows, sold them in the market, and spent the money in wild and
shameful living. Now he says he is sorry and will repay me. What
should I do?"
"Tell me," replied the old man, "when you drop your bar of soap
while bathing, what do you do?"
"I pick it up, of course," the man answered, with some irritation.
"And now tell me, which is of more value, a bar of soap or a
human soul?"
While the questioner left not at all certain about what to do, one
of The Wise One's disciples, who had been deeply affected by this
exchange, rose and said, "Excuse me, O Wise One, but I must go and
reconcile myself to a man I have wrongly ceased to love."
"Yes, my daughter," is all The Wise One said.
* * *
Another time a young couple came to The Wise One to settle a great
argument. The old man listened seemingly more politely than
attentively as each gave a lengthy explanation of the dispute.
Finally the two looked to The Wise One for his decision, both of
them more confident than ever of being right. The Wise One reached
over to a vase sitting nearby and pulled out a rose. "Shall I hit
you with the bloom or with the stem?" he asked the couple.
"What are you talking about?" asked the young woman.
"It is written in the Book of Worn Out Sayings that 'in the rose
garden of life he who plucks thorns for his partner's bed is a fool.'"
"I don't understand," said the young man.
"Those who sell flowers put them in a pan of colored water and the
flowers take on the color of the water," concluded The Wise One. The
couple left confused and without resolving their dispute, but they
did seem to agree that their trip to The Wise One was worthless.
* * *
On one occasion two men came to The Wise One on the same day. The
first was a young man unsure about which road to take as he stepped
out into the world. "I have considered my career choices," he said,
"and I don't know whether to become a poet or a merchant."
The second man had just married a wife and was about to buy a house
for them to live in. "I have investigated many houses carefully,"
he said, "and have found two that would be suitable. The first
house is nearly new and well designed but damp inside, while the
second is light and airy but older and not so well designed. I
don't know which to choose."
"Your problems are one," said The Wise One, as he picked up a honey
comb and squeezed it until the honey was drained out into a bowl.
"You both must choose between the wax and the honey."
"My gosh," said one of The Wise One's disciples, leaping to his
feet, "I'm about to marry the wrong girl." And with that, he ran
off into the distance.
The two men looked at each other, searching each other's face for a
glimmer of understanding, which neither found.
* * *
One spring a richly dressed young man came to The Wise One and spoke
these words:
"I have come from a far kingdom where I have just ascended the
throne. My father ruled long and was old when he died, and now I am
remodeling his castle. The many books of his great library are in
the way of my new banquet hall, and I desire to rid myself of so
much old paper. But I do not wish to throw out every book. I want
to keep some for the sake of his precious memory. Thus, I have come
to you for a principle of selection. Which books should I keep and
which should I burn?"
"Go to the ancient source of rock in your kingdom, from which your
cities have been built," answered The Wise One, "and build a pile of
stones until you can stand on it and see over the edge of the
quarry. Then remove the contemptible stones."
With a look of deep thoughtfulness on his brow, the young ruler left
the presence of The Wise One and returned to his kingdom. It is not
recorded whether this advice was put into effect or whether it
helped the young ruler with his decision.
* * *
There are many other stories about The Wise One, just as there are
many other people with their own stories. But these shall suffice
to show how one old man exhausted the meager remnant of his days on
earth. Whether his life was spent well or ill perhaps even he
himself did not know.