The Farm, the Wilderness, and the Beautiful City
Smart by anyone's standards and strong by most, the young lad thought he'd find a better use for his talents than the family farm. As is often the case, he set out for the city.
Not just any city would do. He'd heard of a beautiful city whose smile would fill his soul, whose touch would inspire his dreams, whose breath would take his own away. Trusting that this ethereal place was the proper milieu for his own good judgment and drive, he set out.
Knowing the journey would be long and hard, he prepared well. He packed efficiently, found the best maps, and ate a hearty breakfast of whole grains and strong tea before stepping across his parents' threshold.
Long and hard it was indeed. But his strong back and stronger mind were more than a match for the challenges of road and wilderness.
Five years passed.
Surely, you think, as did he, that five years was time enough to reach that fair land. Faulty maps and hardships in the land somehow made his progress seem like that dream state where feet move, but don't move us.
One day he remembered that beautiful city, and realized that while she was worth a five-day journey, even a five-week journey, that a five-year journey without sight of turret or light wasn't his original bid.
In that moment came the realization that he no longer cared about that city which had been naught but a dream. His reality was the hard work of a road-weary traveler.
New eyes in a long-bowed head saw nothing but wilderness.
Had he really spent a measurable portion of his life and energy on a journey whose only result was to take him away from his place, without giving him a new one?
And the wilderness was silent.
What do you think? Agree? Disagree? It's not a conversation until you say something. Go ahead. Speak up.
5 Responses to The Farm, the Wilderness, and the Beautiful City
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Good questions. To the last, all I can say is that every end is a new beginning. A better beginning? Who knows.
The wilderness is primarily "not farm", "not beautiful city", and "not chosen."
The journey and the wilderness have to be seen to be known, and I think this guy has had his shoulder to the wheel so long that this is the first time he's even looked around.
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Tom, Tom, Tom!
We're "to read this" in whatever way is meaningful, today, to us!
It may very well be meaningful in a different way, tomorrow - much like Kahlil Gibran's many stories are...No need to psycho-analyze the messenger...
Thanks for sharing this Joel!
Bright Blessings and Happy Friday, y'all!
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Dear Tom ~
20 hours later, I see that *I* may have been beating on *you* for doing one of the 'things' that I do a lot, too - looking for 'patterns' and 'connections' and 'insights' inalmostevery interaction ~
I apologize for the Whack above. My point still stands, though... :)
Um, are we to read this parable as reflective of a certain state of weariness in the writer? I think I want to know if there's still solace in the journey and whether the wilderness was yet beautiful, or just wilderness.
Or should we just read this post sideways, or maybe backwards, as "All Along the Watchtower" allegedly goes, and the journey has really just begun?