By Bruce Farrow on February 2, 2015
The traveller continued his journey. He had travelled for many moons and covered a vast amount of territory in search of the thing that he had lost and was now missing from his life. He knew what it was like but now it was gone.
He had promised himself that no matter how far he had to travel he would journey to the end of the earth to reclaim it. Through hot and cold territories, through harsh and dangerous lands and no matter who he encountered, whether friendly or warlike, he would continue. Ceasing the journey was not an option, he had now dedicated his life to finding that thing again, that special thing that would make his life complete.
As he travelled, he passed through beautiful lands, yet he looked straight ahead. He knew that there were, indeed, things of beauty all around him yet they did not distract him from his endless march. He came across many people and, when he shared the story of his journey, they gave him food and wine and encouraged him. They admired his focus and determination and, in some ways, hoped some of it would rub off on them. They offered help but the traveller always declined. This was a journey he had to make himself.
Occasionally he came across warring tribes who spent all their time fighting anyone who came close to them. The traveller always laughed at their stupidity and pointed out to them how they were wasting their lives by fighting over things that didn’t concern them. They always wanted to fight him but the traveller was strong and focussed and one by one he knocked them aside leaving them lying in his footprints.
His journey continued and as he travelled, his mind would ponder that thing that he had lost. His mind was full of it and he remonstrated with himself for allowing it to get away, yet he always knew that he would find it one day. What would that moment be like when he was once again whole? Would it be more special than even his active imagination could dream? Would it feel the same, or even better?
The anticipation kept him going as he travelled through lands that were strange to him. New people, new vistas, new smells and tastes to stimulate his senses and still he walked on. His mind always on the goal that would make him complete. He considered whether it was his life’s purpose and decided that it was. He would never give up until he had found it again.
One day he came to the land of Mūrkhatākō, which translated means stupidity! All the people in this land were like ostriches and would bury their heads in the sand at any sign of a problem. He had been here before and, because there were so many of them, he decided that he would have to fight them. Of course they ran off and buried their heads in the sand but the traveller caught them, one by one and tied them to trees so they had to face their problems. He would sit with them and laugh at their idiocy and slowly they began to realise the problems that they had caused for themselves. Slowly they became aware that they had indeed lived up to the name of the country in which they lived.
The traveller moved on. He knew he was getting closer to his goal. He could sense it and sometimes he felt it was just the other side of the hill yet it wasn’t, yet. Inexorably though, he moved closer to it.
Then one day, he came to a river. It was a wide river and there, sitting beside the river was a fisherman. The traveller sat with the fisherman and told him his story and his quest and the fisherman nodded wisely.
“That what you seek is in the land beyond the one on the other side of the river – but you have a problem. The land standing between you and your quest is full of the nastiest tribesman you can ever imagine. They do not care about anyone apart from themselves and do not welcome anyone into their territory. Yet you have to travel through their country to get to where you are going.”
The traveller thought long and hard. He was well aware that the universe had a way of testing people to see if they really wanted what they said they did. He knew that many people set their intention on a goal but didn’t have the determination to follow it through. The question was “did he want it badly enough to fight the warring tribesman?” The answer came to him immediately and with no doubts whatsoever – “Yes!”
But then the traveller hung his head. How could he fight all these people by himself? He was so tired. There was no-one to help him and he shared this concern with the wise fisherman who said.
“You have travelled through many lands and met many people who have admired your quest and your determination. You took nothing from them but left them with hope. Those people would help you.”
The traveller hadn’t thought of that although he wondered why these people would help him. After all this was about his purpose and not theirs. Anyway, it was worth a shot.
So he sent out word to all the lands through which he had travelled, to all the people, he had met and told them of his problem. He didn’t expect anything to happen really but it gave him time to ponder the next step.
Then one morning as the sun rose, he saw on the hilltops behind him, a figure. That figure became several figures, and then more figures and more and more and more until the whole of the hills behind him were swarming with people cheering and waving their swords!
He ran over to a man who appeared to be the leader “who are all these warriors?” he said. The leader replied “these are people from the lands that you passed through, people you spoke to and people who you inspired. They are here to do what you ask. They are your army.”
The traveller could not believe it! All these people were here to help him with his purpose? He was humbled and very grateful and thanked the universe.
The next morning the army gathered on the banks of the river and boarded rafts to cross it.
The warring tribesman on the other side saw this vast army coming their way and, took one look at the determination and hostility on display . . . and ran! They were essentially cowards and were used to fighting people weaker than them and were not going to hang around and get slaughtered by this enraged army!
The army escorted the traveller through the bad-lands and no-one dared to lay a finger on them because it would have meant certain death. This was one angry army!
The army left the traveller when they reached the promised land – the land where the traveller knew his journey would end – the place he would find that thing that he had lost and that would make his life complete once again.
As he walked off into the sunset, the army cheered and thanked him for showing them about life.
The traveller knew he was nearly at his journey’s end . . . his search was almost over.