Unexpected Encounter

 

It was a long time ago, I was young, I was out travelling like some students do, discovering the world and all that.

It was in the mountains. Mount Everest I think, or was it the Pair O'knees? No ... Ben Nevis, that was the name of the hotel keeper. Or the mountain ... or ...

Anyway, I met this hermit. A man who lives alone in the middle of nowhere eating berries and locusts ... or is it licorice? Something beginning with L anyway. Linguine? No that's not it.

He was naked in a barrel. He called me and said, "Wisdom is acquired and not found!"

I nodded and said nothing. I was tired so I sat down on the ground whilst he dried himself up and wrapped his scrawny skeletal body in a toga type outfit. Maybe it was in Italy ... do they have mountains in Italy?

He said, "Imagine, young man, you are walking on a beach and you see footprints. One set of feet, the left ones, are bare, whilst the others, the right, distinctly show that the foot is wearing a sandal. What would you deduce from that?"

"I guess the person has lost one of his sandals," I replied.

"No necessarily so, my not-so-wise friend" he smiled, "it could be that the person has just found a sandal, not lost one!"

I nodded again and said nothing.

"Let us say," continued the toga-wearing hermit, "that later on you find a sandal; what would you deduce from that?"

"I guess it is the sandal that the wearer lost," I said.

"Again, not necessarily so," he chuckled, "it could be that the walker got fed up limping with one bare foot and one with a sandal, so he threw the sandal he found away!"  

After a few moments' silence he spoke again.

"We often deduce things from limited information," he said, "and our deductions are based on our attitude to life. You said the man had lost a sandal; I said he had found one. You were negative in your deduction. You assumed the sandal was the one that was lost, I said it was the one he had found and he threw it away."

I smiled. He had a point. I was somewhat negative in my thinking; but life tends to make you so sometimes.

He continued, "A man in the sea is always wet. A wet man on the beach was not necessarily in the sea!"

Another good point, I thought. It could be raining, or he got wet by some other way.

"A river never flows up the mountain," he added after a pause.

I decided it was time to go. I got up, smiled and waved him goodbye. 

"Remember," he said as he waved back, "the dogs in the desert run much faster because the trees are further apart!"

And the moral of this story:

If you ever walk your dog in the desert never use one of those extendable/retractable leads. They'll never be long enough.

Hermit Heritage

 

Once upon a time, a long long time ago, up in the mountains, beyond the thick impenetrable forest, far away from civilisation, lived a hermit in a cave. 

No one had really seen him. It was just word of mouth. People said to each other he existed and so the  legend grew that there was a hermit up there in the mountains.

One day an anthropologist decided to find out for himself. He set off for the long journey through the forest, up the mountain, until finally he found the cave. And he did it all without a satellite navigation system.

When he reached the cave, the third one from the right, the hermit came out to meet him. He looked very old. Older than the hills, as they say. But then, no one knew how old the hills were because they had moved away long ago. They lived in the first cave from the right.

The anthropologist's first question, rather indelicately, was, "how old are you?"

"Oh ... I ceased to count when I reached ninety!" was the hermit's reply in perfect English. (No matter where you go these days there's always someone who speaks English).

"What is the secret of long life?" asked the visitor.

"Avoiding stupid questions from fatheads like you," was the hermit's answer.

Then, after a period of silence, the hermit continued gently. "I was not always this age, you know," he said, "there was a time when I was younger. But these days there aren't many young people in their nineties. They all seem to be younger than ninety, somehow!"

"Are you saying age is relative?" asked the anthropologist hoping to get a quotable quote.

"Everything is relative," replied the hermit, "what is relative to one man is not to another. These days it seems everyone is intent on wealth and possessions. It's the modern Theory of Relativity. The richer you are the more relatives will attend your funeral!"

"That's sad!" muttered the visitor sitting down on the ground.

"Take my situation, for instance," continued the hermit, "I have no money, no possessions, no furniture or luxury goods, no latest fashionable clothing, or anything like that. I live in an empty cave and eat berries, and fruits and I'm satisfied with my own company. Yet your civilisation is different. People spend their lives running round in circles like a dog chasing its tail. From early childhood you're competitive to study harder, play harder, work harder, get a better job, find a great spouse, have a wonderful family, strive to provide for them and for all their needs, see them grow up and hope they turn out well and don't make the wrong decisions, push them to succeed, and before you know it they are grown up with their own families and you're there on the sidelines wondering where has all your live gone so quickly!"

"But that's the cycle of life!" said the anthropologist.

"I don't have a cycle," replied the hermit, "I told you. I have no possessions. No cycle, no car, yacht or any of the other accoutrements of success which modern society commands. Like a fully fitted luxury kitchen, air-conditioning, swimming pool and so on."

"You seem very well informed considering you've spent all your life living here alone in this cave, and I'm your first ever visitor," said the anthropologist, "where do you get all your information from?"

"From my TV!" replied the hermit.

The Meaning Of Life

When I was young and I lived in London I got interested in all sorts of esoteric things and theories; like: are we the only ones in the universe? At what time do trees arrive in the forest? Why some tomato ketchup always gets stuck at the bottom of the bottle? The last one always foxed me. Adding water to the bottle does not solve the problem but only washes the bottle out.

I used to visit libraries and spend a lot of time searching for the answers to all those questions that were whizzing round in my mind, like a circle in a spiral, like a wheel within a wheel, never ending or beginning, on an ever spinning reel, like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind.

I hate plagiarism, don't you? I long for a world without plagiarism. You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one. I hope someday you'll join us, and the world will have no plagiarism whatsoever.

Anyway, as I was saying. I was young and got interested in all sorts of world problems, like the meaning of life. Then I read in the papers that a hermit type character was visiting London to talk about such things like the brotherhood of man, living peacefully and simply with few possessions, minimalism, happiness through simplicity rather than wealth, the meaning of life, and the composition of tomato ketchup in relation to its speed of travel out of a bottle.

I was suddenly attracted to this man and the wisdom and knowledge he had to impart to society. Here was a man living life the way he preached it. In poverty and simplicity sharing what little he had in wisdom with his fellow beings.  

So I visited him at his posh hotel in the luxurious part of London where all the wealthy tourists go. Unfortunately, as I got in I caught my ear in the revolving door. The door kept going round and I found myself in the street again with a bleeding ear. I tried again, but this time going backwards through the door. Sadly, I caught my other ear and got thrown out again.

There's a lesson to be learnt here, I thought. Although I could not work out what it was.

Eventually, I was led to the penthouse suite of the hotel where the hermit man lived in isolation and utter poverty. He was eating a humble meal of shell-fish rather than sumptuous food you would expect to find in such a hotel. He had a plate of oysters, and another of moules marinières, whatever they are. Also lobster thermidor with real thermidors in them.

He spoke quietly in short little sayings rather than in conversation.

I asked him, "What is the meaning of life?"

He replied, "Life is a bowl of cherries. Some ripe, some still to ripe, whilst others are rotten and mouldy!"

"I don't like cherries," I replied.

"All right," he continued softly sipping some liquid with bubbles from a crystal glass, "Life is a basket of bananas. Some are yellow and ready to eat, others are green and would give you tummy ache, but they are all bent."   

"What advice would you give a young man like me?" I asked.

He smiled and said, "If you walk in someone else's shoes for a mile or two you will be accused of stealing them!"

"Anything else?" 

"A man who has been swimming will be wet when he gets out of the water."

I did not understand the meaning of that. So I asked him. He continued.

"It is not good having such an open mind that your brains fall out of it!"

"That's deep!" I smiled.

"Depth is comparative to one's perception," he responded. 

It seemed that every time I asked him something he answered in these riddle type replies, leaving you to find any hidden meaning you wish from what he said. 

So I attempted another question. "The world is in turmoil right now, " I said, "what advice would you give today's generation from someone as learned and wise as yourself?"  

"Too many oysters give you the runs," he answered as he rushed to the bathroom.

The interview was stopped abruptly. His helpers and minders saw me out. I never got to find out why tomato ketchup gets stuck at the bottom of the bottle when it is nearly empty.

Any ideas?