I’ve logged more experience than most with simplicity and the complexity you discover inside simplicity, minimalism and asocial behavior, endurance and landscape.
Here is the truth: I think some deep wisdom inside me (a) sensed the stress, (b) was terrified for me, and (c) gave me something new and hard to focus on in order to prevent me from lapsing into a despair coma — and also to keep me from having a jelly jar of wine in my hand.
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Thomas Wiloch is the author of Tales of Lord Shantih (Unicorn Press) and Night Rain (Runaway Spoon Press). He lives in Canton, Michigan.
A seeker approached Lord Shantih with a question. “My Lord,” he said, “what special task do wise men perform in honor of the gods?” Lord Shantih struck him with his staff. “A wise man,” he shouted, “performs all his tasks in honor of the gods!”
“I can no more stop the wind than I can stop my unwanted thoughts,” he explained. “So I let them blow through me, and I carry on with my work.”
Once the Lord Shantih was asked to write down his teachings. He took a sheet of paper and covered one side with ink until it was a solid black. The other side he left clean.
A seeker once approached the Lord Shantih to ask a question. But Lord Shantih was repairing his sandal strap, which had come loose.
At the Monastery of the Sacred Night the priests perform the ancient worship of sleep. By secret methods they fashion their dreams into a kind of prayer to the gods, and in this way they offer praise on levels which to ordinary men remain hidden.
The interpretation of the holy teachings has long been the sole activity of the monks of the Gaesheen Valley. They read ceaselessly the sacred scrolls and ponder to themselves the precise meanings to be gained from them.
One day the Lord Shantih threw a coin down a wishing well. He wished for another coin. Later, as he walked upon the road, he found a coin.
When the Lord Shantih was a child he played in the forests of the country of Mas, where forests and mountains and swift-moving rivers are found in abundance.
The Lord Shantih found himself at the Temple of Rahla where the statues of the gods are kept. Pilgrims journey from distant lands to touch these statues, believing that one touch will cure them of their ills.
One day the Lord Shantih was approached by an aged beggar who carried a staff.