The Watering Hole: Wednesday, November 30, 2011

The Traveler and the Seed

a modern parable

by

Briseadh na Faire

“If you want to stay in power as long as possible, you must never give the people hope of anything better.”

Those were the father’s last words to his son. The son inherited more wealth than the rest of the people in his kingdom combined. But that still was not enough. He knew he had to keep his people oppressed, taxing what earnings they had to keep them barely above starvation. His soldiers he paid well enough, but they, too, labored under the yoke of knowing at any moment, the son could cast them out of his service, and into the streets to beg and be beaten for begging, just as they had beaten beggars.

Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter. Season after season the son ruled supreme. No one dared cry out against him, for fear of his wrath. His fortunes grew even as his people perished from want of food and ill health. But that did not matter to the son. All that mattered was ruling, and gaining more and more wealth. He was the giver of jobs, the taker of jobs; the giver of life, the taker of life. In his kingdom there was no hope.

He stayed in power with his armies and his nobles, his privileged chosen, whose only quarrels were with each other, as they each sought to increase their holdings and their favor with the son.

The little people he managed easily enough, for they were very easily distracted with the trivial; gossip and innuendo and religious fervor, pitting neighbor against neighbor. They were so preoccupied hating each other they did not consider rising up against their oppressors.

Then, one Spring, a Traveler passed through the kingdom. “I bring news” he said to the townsfolk, “of an uprising in a far off land.”

“What do you mean?” they asked.

“People have taken to the streets…left their jobs, their farms and their schools…and demanded their ruler step aside, and let the people rule.” said the Traveler.

“What? Foolish! How can the people rule? They’ll be killed. What did the ruler do?”  the townspeople all questioned the Traveler at once.

“Some were killed. The ruler called out his guards in force. But…an amazing thing happened” continued the Traveler.

“What?”

“Some of the guards…joined the people.”

A gasp was heard in the crowd.

“Tell me,” said the Traveler, “what hope do you have, right now, of a better life, for a better life for your children?”

The crowd, which had been gathering, grew silent. The unheard groan of oppression weighed down upon them, bending their shoulders. A short distance away, a soldier ran for the king’s palace.

“If you do nothing, what hope will you have?” pressed the Traveler.

“None” a small voice answered.

“And if you rise up?” the Traveler lifted the chin of the young woman who spoke, looking into her dusty blue eyes.

“We can hope for the grave!” a gruff voice spoke out.

“Yes” replied the Traveler, his voice even and penetrating. “The same as now.”

“But we would have hope for our children” the young woman chimed, her voice growing stronger. “Lead us, Traveler” she implored.

Just then an eagle circling far above let out a cry.

The Traveler paused for a while. “It is not for me to lead you. There are those among you who will lead.”

“Who? How will we know?” the crowd asked.

The Traveler reached into his pouch and brought out a small handful of wheat seeds. “If I cast these seeds upon the cobble stones, most will be crushed under foot. Some will find their way to the cracks and survive – for a while. But if I take just one seed and plant it in fertile soil, with water and sunshine, it will grow and thrive, bringing forth more seeds, which in turn will grow and bring forth even more.”

“A seed of hope” said the young woman, softly.

“When the time is right, a leader will come” said the Traveler, looking her in the eyes. He took up his staff and began to walk down the street. The crowd parted from him and broke into smaller groups of twos, threes, fours and fives, murmuring to each other.

Just then, a noisy entourage of soldiers shoved their way to the Traveler. The son stood in their center. “What have you done?” demanded the son.

“I gave them hope” said the Traveler, the sun setting behind him, casting his long shadow on the ruler.

“How dare you! I can have you arrested! Executed!” the son was apoplectic. The townspeople had formed a large circle around the spectacle. Soldiers looked nervously over their shoulders. A dark, rumbling emanated from the crowd as the people seemed to press in on the entourage. The Traveler raised his hand and the sound, and people, stopped.

“Your laws have no power over me” proclaimed the Traveler, “for I have given your people the one thing you cannot execute. I have given them the seed of hope. And that seed will grow, fueled by the very oppression you have dealt.”

“If you want to stay in power as long as possible, you must never give the people hope of anything better.”

Those words burned in the son’s ears, like the roaring of a violent storm. He glared at the Traveler. The setting sun was behind the Traveler’s head now, giving his white hair a golden-red glow.

“Now that your people know the path to hope for a better life for themselves, their children, you cannot long stay in power.” The son knew the Traveler’s words to be true.

“The question for you is: will you cede power peacefully? Or will you seek to kill as many of your own people as possible to forestall the day when they cast you out?” With that, the eagle cried again.

“Seize him!” the son commanded. The soldiers, who had looked up to the eagle’s cry, looked down again, only to be blinded by the setting sun. The Traveler was not to be seen. The soldiers drew closer around the son, and all began to withdraw towards the palace.

The young woman stepped forward from the crowd, a flower in her hand. She approached the lead soldier and handed the flower to him. “You’re one of us, too, you know.” She blew him a kiss, then skipped off into the crowd.

“Now that your people know the path to hope for a better life for themselves, their children, you cannot long stay in power.” The Travelers’ words echoed in the soldier’s ear. He shot a sideward glance at the son, then at the crowd. At that moment, he knew his allegiance now lay with the crowd. He, too, had received hope.

The young woman skipped on in the Spring twilight as crickets and frogs began their evening songs. At the edge of town, she met up with the Traveler again.

“That was a brave thing you did” the Traveler commented.

“Not so brave as you” she chirped. “You gave us the seed of hope. I just watered it a little.” she brushed a wisp of hair off her forehead. “Besides, it’s always good to make new friends.”

The Traveler smiled. You’re just the kind of leader the townspeople will be looking for, he thought, as he bowed in homage to the young woman. She curtseyed, then pirouetted and skipped back to town.

THIS IS OUR OPEN THREAD. YOUR COMMENTS ARE, AS ALWAYS, WELCOME. WHAT SEEDS WILL YOU SOW?