Back at the village, I found the guy who promised me a mule. He gave me black coffee, flavored with cloves, and thick enough that I drank it with a soup spoon. It was free of charge, as was the zen talk about elphants and tigers that he threw in for kicks. His kicks, not mine.
All I wanted was transportation, a beast of burden whose back I could lay a crop across if it got ornery. Something to carry my gear, my food, and my small tent. Was that too much to ask? I wasn't asking to be carried myself by the mule, just my stuff.
However, it turns out that while I thought I was getting a four legged critter related to horses and probably opposums (if you have ever come across one of those in the crawlspace under your house, you know exactly what I'm talking about), what the guy was selling me was a bit less substiantial, heck, a bit less tangible, than that. I _knew_ I should have read the fine print on that contract.
In frank terms, that shyster sold me something that I already had, just couldn't find at the time.
How much gear do I really have? Paper, pens, ink, knives to keep the pens sharp. How much food do I really have? Dried fruit, meat, some odd dwarf bread that I hope I never have to try. My tent rolls up into a package that doesn't increase the weight on my backpack by more than half a pound.
Do I really need something external? Or do I need to internalize the fact that it's my work, and my desire, and my will-to-do?
...At least the coffee was good...
2 comments:
Mmmm coffee. All writers must keep coffee (or hot chocolate or sunkist) in their journey pack.
So in other words, he sold you a "darn the logic!" moment? We all need someone to do that for us. Every now and then. Just to haul things back into perspective and focus. Of course, caffeine is also good for focus. In non-coma-sized doses.
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