Far
From Home
by I.M. Acher
by I.M. Acher
Hillel and Shammai were the
greatest Zen Masters of their day.
Students used to come from all over the world to learn from them. Shammai had the higher IQ of the two, and his
academy was more prestigious; Hillel, however, was more open-minded and willing
to educate all who entered his doors.
A student walked into Shammai’s
academy. He asked “Rabbi, how can I find
inner peace?” The master asked the
student to pass him a candlestick holder.
The student passed the master his candlestick holder. The master asked the student to turn
around. The student turned around. The master then forcefully smacked the
student upside his head. “There,” said
the master, “do you feel it now?” The student
walked out of Shammai’s academy and never returned.
The same student stepped into Hillel's academy. He asked him “Rabbi,
how can I find inner peace?” The master asked
him to pass him a candlestick holder—one with a lit candle. The student hesitated, scared that the master
would smack him. The master then said “watch
me very closely.” He then blew out the
candle. “And that,” the master said “is
how you find inner peace. Everything else is overpriced snake oil. Now go in peace.
Jonah
woke up the next morning. Just like every
other morning. It was 10:00AM. He had no job. He had nowhere to go. The leftover pizza in his fridge was
beginning to go stale. He was almost out
of money to buy some more food.
And
yet, the fish-man he dreamed of bade him to go to Ninvus.
I
mean where is Ninvus anyway? Perhaps had
he paid attention during social studies class, he would have remembered.
But
as he turned over, he saw a clean looking slip of paper on his nightstand. It was the one slip of paper that didn’t have
food or beer stains all over it.
The
slip of paper was a boat ticket to Ninvus. He doesn’t know how that ticket got there, or
how he even paid for it. But he figured
he had nothing to lose staying in Nod. Might as well take a vacation in Ninvus.
The fish-man
got the ticket for Jonah. How the ticket
made its way to Jonah’s nightstand is a mystery. After all, the fish-man doesn’t have prehensility. Also, since when do fish-men have money? I guess we are just going to have to suspend
our disbeliefs for this one and assume that the fish-man was capable of some
form of magic that we can’t possibly explain.
The
wharf of East Eden. Some say that Eden
was once Shangri-La (before there even was Shangri-La). If Eden ever was anything close to paradisiacal,
those days were long gone.
Never
would you find a more wretched hive of buggery.
See, Eden was a place where everyone did “the right thing”—or at least
what The Master said the right thing was.
But they never questioned The Master.
They devoutly followed His words.
And the Master did not reciprocate.
He
promised them a good life
He
promised them pleasure
He promised
he’d kill the Leviathan and they’d feast on his flesh
He
promised that one day they’d never have to do work again
He
promised the world, he delivered a goose egg.
This
is why I would never live in Eden. I
would never fit in. I have never met The
Master. I’m not even sure if The Master
is real. But given their blind faith in
The Master, He is very real to them. And
I could never suffer a neighborhood where people don’t think for themselves.
Jonah
arrived at the wharf. He had one ticket
to Ninvus. But he didn’t even want to go
to Ninvus. He didn’t want to be in Eden to
begin with.
He
went to a local bar. But this was Eden,
so the bars did not serve alcohol. Not that
The Master ever literally said not to drink alcohol. But his followers still managed to find ways
to make it verboten.
So he
sat at that bar, sober, pensive, and wanting to get a fix. But nowhere to get a fix in East Eden.
Jonah
just wanted to go home.
The fish-man
should have known that Jonah was not going to go to Ninvus. For a fish-man with a lot of foresight, the
fish-man sure seemed to miss plenty of important details.
Hillel was walking by a river with some
students. He saw a skull floating by.
“See that skull?” the master asked. “That man drowned because he drowned someone
else. And the person he drowned also
drowned someone else And the person who
drowned him will also be drowned.”
Most of the students stroked their
beards and nodded in acquiescence.
One student was not satisfied.
Little Doubting Tommy asked the Master
“and who started the vicious cycle?”
The Patient Master responded “No
one. The cycle is about as old as the
great deluge itself, where many myriads of myriads drowned.”
“But Master,” said Tommy, “a watch
does not wind itself.”
The Master stroked his beard. “Son, that is because you have not seen the
most perfect watch ever made, so perfect it does not need human hands to wind
it, it never needs repair, and it never runs out.”
Doubting Tommy still wasn’t
sold. “Master, where can you find such a
watch?”
The Master shouted “fool, do not
question the wonders of the world. When
you have seen the things I have seen, you may begin to formulate your questions
correctly.”
Doubting Tommy coolly responded “but
sir, have you ever seen such a watch?”
Nonplussed, The Master said “no I have
not. But if you have enough faith, it
just might be real.”
But Doubting Thomas was not
finished. “And when will the cycle end?”
To this, The Master said “it never
will. One day, there will be no one left
to drown. And then, it will be too late.”
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