So this odd bald fellow (as opposed to “oddly bald” or “baldingly odd”) was sitting at the check-in table at the beginning of yesterday’s lunchtime 8 Minute Ripple. His knowledge of culinary terminology in the vein of “Calzone” and “Stromboli” not only unexpectedly came in handy, it also lent a great deal of clarity as to why he was sporting such girth around his midsection.
Things became puzzling, though, when he stood up and began to ramble at the group about tree pulp, printing ink, and a full glass versus an empty glass.
Thank goodness he had enough wit to be brief and quickly turn the proceedings over to Steve Harper!
Well, dear gentle readers all, if you were to query the odd bald fellow as to where all that gobbledygook about a full glass versus an empty glass came from, he would have no recourse but to confess that he is unable to remember where he read the original story that sparked his lunchtime flights of fancy.
But, credit must be bestowed where credit is due. To that end, here follows that story that inspired the odd bald fellow…
~ * ~
A wealthy man sat back and reflected upon his personal empire. He had not only surpassed all the other merchants in his village, he had become the richest man in the entire district.
He wanted for nothing, and for all intents and purposes, there was not a single material good he did not already have, or could not easily acquire with a mere wink and a nod (and as we all know, “A Nod is As Good As a Wink to a Blind Horse”).
Therefore, the matter that now plagued him was to determine what his next conquest should be.
He realized it should be knowledge. Certainly he already had all the knowledge he needed to be a successful merchant. Now though, he would pursue knowledge about everything else. He set about hiring the best tutors and collecting the best reading material, which his coin could very easily buy.
In time, the merchant reached another plateau. It was all on account of overhearing one of his elderly tenant farmers mutter “what is all this expensive knowledge worth without wisdom.”
The merchant was so struck by this observation, he actually forgot to be furious with the old man’s insolence much less remember to demand that his head be separated from his shoulders.
Wisdom. Now where was one to purchase wisdom? No answer to that question seemed to be forthcoming.
Deciding that going for a ride would help his thinking, the merchant made his way over to his stables. As he entered, he overheard his horse-master commenting to a stable boy that he greatly admired the wisdom of the monks in the temple at the top of the hill. They did so much meditating surely they knew, and comprehended, every single note of the very song of the celestial spheres themselves. What greater wisdom could there be than that?
Once again, the merchant was so struck by what he had heard, he completely forgot to behave in his usual manner.
Immediately turning on his heel, the merchant rapidly waddled his way to his chambers. Upon the arrival of the bellowed-for scribe, he began to dictate a letter.
The next morning, a servant was sent to deliver the letter, which begged permission for an audience, to the head monk at the temple on the top of the hill. Half past midday, the servant returned with the head monk’s reply: the merchant was welcome to come join him for tea on the following day.
There was not a more eager soul alive that next day as the merchant rode to the temple at the top of the hill. Upon his arrival, with little fanfare, he was ushered in directly to see the head monk.
Once the merchant had bowed and then seated himself, the head monk spoke.
“Now, my son, tell me why you asked to see me today.”
“Oh great master, please let me be your student. I have worked and studied so very hard. In fact, I am quite accomplished! I have…” and thus the merchant launched into an oratory on all the finer points of his intellectual prowess. That is, he spoke until he saw something that brought him to a stammering halt, something that left him gawking and staring.
“M-m-master! What are you doing?”
After filling a cup with tea for himself, the head monk had begun to fill a cup for the merchant; yet, he had not ceased pouring. Before the merchant’s eyes, the tea flowed over the lip of the cup, over the rim of the tea tray, onto the surface of the low table, and splashed onto the floor, creating rivulets that were now heading straight towards his feet.
The head monk spoke:
“You are like this cup; so full that there is no space for anything new.”
# # #
Things became puzzling, though, when he stood up and began to ramble at the group about tree pulp, printing ink, and a full glass versus an empty glass.
Thank goodness he had enough wit to be brief and quickly turn the proceedings over to Steve Harper!
Well, dear gentle readers all, if you were to query the odd bald fellow as to where all that gobbledygook about a full glass versus an empty glass came from, he would have no recourse but to confess that he is unable to remember where he read the original story that sparked his lunchtime flights of fancy.
But, credit must be bestowed where credit is due. To that end, here follows that story that inspired the odd bald fellow…
~ * ~
A wealthy man sat back and reflected upon his personal empire. He had not only surpassed all the other merchants in his village, he had become the richest man in the entire district.
He wanted for nothing, and for all intents and purposes, there was not a single material good he did not already have, or could not easily acquire with a mere wink and a nod (and as we all know, “A Nod is As Good As a Wink to a Blind Horse”).
Therefore, the matter that now plagued him was to determine what his next conquest should be.
He realized it should be knowledge. Certainly he already had all the knowledge he needed to be a successful merchant. Now though, he would pursue knowledge about everything else. He set about hiring the best tutors and collecting the best reading material, which his coin could very easily buy.
In time, the merchant reached another plateau. It was all on account of overhearing one of his elderly tenant farmers mutter “what is all this expensive knowledge worth without wisdom.”
The merchant was so struck by this observation, he actually forgot to be furious with the old man’s insolence much less remember to demand that his head be separated from his shoulders.
Wisdom. Now where was one to purchase wisdom? No answer to that question seemed to be forthcoming.
Deciding that going for a ride would help his thinking, the merchant made his way over to his stables. As he entered, he overheard his horse-master commenting to a stable boy that he greatly admired the wisdom of the monks in the temple at the top of the hill. They did so much meditating surely they knew, and comprehended, every single note of the very song of the celestial spheres themselves. What greater wisdom could there be than that?
Once again, the merchant was so struck by what he had heard, he completely forgot to behave in his usual manner.
Immediately turning on his heel, the merchant rapidly waddled his way to his chambers. Upon the arrival of the bellowed-for scribe, he began to dictate a letter.
The next morning, a servant was sent to deliver the letter, which begged permission for an audience, to the head monk at the temple on the top of the hill. Half past midday, the servant returned with the head monk’s reply: the merchant was welcome to come join him for tea on the following day.
There was not a more eager soul alive that next day as the merchant rode to the temple at the top of the hill. Upon his arrival, with little fanfare, he was ushered in directly to see the head monk.
Once the merchant had bowed and then seated himself, the head monk spoke.
“Now, my son, tell me why you asked to see me today.”
“Oh great master, please let me be your student. I have worked and studied so very hard. In fact, I am quite accomplished! I have…” and thus the merchant launched into an oratory on all the finer points of his intellectual prowess. That is, he spoke until he saw something that brought him to a stammering halt, something that left him gawking and staring.
“M-m-master! What are you doing?”
After filling a cup with tea for himself, the head monk had begun to fill a cup for the merchant; yet, he had not ceased pouring. Before the merchant’s eyes, the tea flowed over the lip of the cup, over the rim of the tea tray, onto the surface of the low table, and splashed onto the floor, creating rivulets that were now heading straight towards his feet.
The head monk spoke:
“You are like this cup; so full that there is no space for anything new.”
# # #
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