A bearded pilgrim without a pilgrimage was walking down a path when it forked.

He looked down the path to the one side and thought, “who knows, if I take this path I may end up coming to a village that needs a carpenter like me.  I settle down, marry a nice bouncy lass, have a brood of kids, rollick in the harvest festivals in the autumn, grumble about the scarce food with everyone else in the spring… and then when I am old, I will lie in my bed dying and think, was this all, what of the drums and bugles and clash of arms, what happened to the greatness I could have achieved?”

He looked down the path to the other side and thought, “who knows, if I take this path I may end up coming to a town where there is a sergeant taking recruits at the drumhead.  I will enlist, perform prodigies of valor, and due to  my strength and cunning and the casualties of war become an officer and a captain and a colonel.  Then I will throw off the strictures of my corrupt government, seize rule myself with my loyal men at my back, and then turn to the liberation of all the nearby countries till I am crowned emperor on the edge of the endless sea with all the known world at my feet behind me–and then when I am old, I will lie in bed dying and think, was this worth it, I left so much behind, what it is like to tell tales to your apple-cheeked children around the fire while the winter wind howls outside?”

Another man came down the path.  At the fork, he found a bearded pilgrim laying stretched out on the ground, arms stretched out desperately reaching as far as he could, one down each path.

A new train engineer was learning about his duties and his assigned route.

“first,” he was told, ” there’s a long slope down.  You can coast, gathering speed.”

“Next,” he was told, “there is a long flat stretch.  You can coast for a while on the speed from the slope and then you will continue to chug along under your own power.”

“Sounds easy,” the fresh-faced engineer said, ” so what’s the problem?”

“The problem is the switch.  When you come barreling down the slope and are abruptly pulled up by the flats.”

We are driving across some of the flat, open parts of the country so trains are on my mind.  You can see them coming from a long way off.

Hence this parable.

There once was a newly-built train.  At the switching station, it looked out on its first track all the way across the gleaming plain to the distant white city in the far, far horizon.  The train was full of enthusiasm.  “I am going to roll on all the way to that city!”  it said.

An old worn-down train nearby wearily set about tempering the new train’s expectations.  “You have no idea how far that city really is,” the train said.  “Nor how difficult it is.  You feel good now, but wait until you are trying to get your wheels to turn in sand.  Or in swamp, heavens, oh man, swamp.”

“Why would I do that?” the new train said cheerfully.  “I will simply stay on the track.”

The older train was aghast.  “Stay on the tracks!  Are you crazy?  Live a little!”

A goat kid was traipsing along a road when it saw a partridge attending to its domestic affairs in some bushes hard by a pear tree.  The goat kid bustled right up and started asking questions without any preamble.

“Why are you in this bush?

The partridge answered, “because its by the pear tree and I love pears.”

“Are there ripe pears right now?”

“Not yet.  Do you know when the pears get ripe, goat kid?”

“I don’t know, I’m just a goat kid.”

“I don’t know either,  I’m just a partridge.  But I have no other bushes I’d rather be in and these ones are where the pears are.”

It started out with me musing about teaching even young children about budgeting and maybe trade-offs.

Imagine a young mother sitting at a table doing some budgeting by a woodstove.  The clear sunlight of winter streams in through the window.  She’s doing it partly in paper and pencil so her children can see and experience her doing it.  Having them learn about budgeting is important to her.

She gets an idea.

She calls over her little girl.  The child is maybe 3 to 4, maybe even 5.  The mother takes out some wooden blocks of different colors and labels them, including maybe with little drawings.  She uses some long plain blocks to create a square.

“Here,” she said, “let’s play the the Big Person Game.”  The kid is excited.  The mother explains that the square is the money they have to spend each month, the blocks have to fit inside it.  Any blocks that cannot fit they cannot use.  Fitting blocks is something the child does, so she understands.  Then the mother lays down some blocks.  “Here’s paying for the house, here’s a block for the lights and the electricity, here’s a block for the car, here’s the basic food we need, here’s some clothes.”  Then, as the mother designed, she shows the child there is a little space left and shows the child some blocks that could fit into it.  Ice cream, maybe.  Toys.  A trip to the ocean.  Small things that are discretionary where letting the child have some say can do no harm and possibly good.

(more…)

A modern day parable of the refiner’s fire:

If you treat wood so that it partially destroys the inner structure, then subject it to heat, and pressure, it ends up stronger than steel.

Can literally stop bullets.

The greatest sculptor who ever lived began where Michelangelo left off.  He made statues that changed their meaning a hundred times as you walked around it.  He made great, towering works that shifted their content as you walked towards them–the work was not just one sculpture of genius but several, depending on your angle.  He made outdoor pieces whose meaning and beauty shifted with the sun.

That was the first phase of his work. (more…)

Several young architectural students were surveying a grand old building.  Mostly they were criticizing it.  They pointed out various real flaws here and there.  That window was misaligned.  That cornice was damaged.  They then went back to their school to resume drafting cheap McMansions to be built en masse on sandy soil.

But one student stayed behind.  He was starstruck.  “Look how solid those foundations, are!”  he said.  “This building can last forever.  Look how it was built to be easily repaired and even added on to!”

Let’s tell the story of the 11th virgin.

(more…)

A young man had remarkable spiritual experiences and was very happy.  But one morning he woke up and found that he just didn’t believe.  There may have been reasons for it–he thought of some himself–but he eventually decided that if ti was possible for a mood like to come on to you, everything you experienced was just moods, including the spiritual experiences.

(more…)

A passed-out drunk woke up in a field at night.  There was a UFO landed near him and a few aliens gaggling around.  One of them was looking at him.

”Hey!  Hey!” the drunk yelled. “What’s it all for?  Why are you here?”

“Yes,” the alien said.  “We are collectors. ”

The drunk’s expression cleared.  “Oh, hey, collectors.  Art!  I know art.  The Mona Lisa!  You should collect the Mona Lisa.  Hey!”

The alien looked blank. “What is this Mona Lisa?  We collect art creations of great worth.”  He proudly showed the drunk a child’s refrigerator drawing.

“Jesus loves this boy, and the boy loves this art.  Isn’t it wonderful to have something that will last forever?”

The beaver proposed building a dam on  the creek, but the creatures who dwelled on the bank naturally demurred.

The beaver then returned with a new proposal.  He would place sticks and logs in the stream so that if a creature fell in, it might find something to cling to.  This safety measure, he averred, if done properly, might even offer an easy way to cross the waters.

He received their assent.

Unaccountably, after he had installed his safety measure-cum-transport option, the creek flooded.

Oh my, the beaver said.  I will have to add more safety measures, they are needed now more than ever.

Three Saints met.

I am the Prophet, said the first. I give guidance from God.

I am the Bishop, said the second. I am a Judge in Israel and a minister to His flock.

I am just the Nursery Leader, said the third. The Nursery Leader looked downcast.

The Bishop tried to offer some kind of reassurance but the Prophet hushed him.

All I do is . . . the Nursery Leader went on . . . All I do is . . . is personally hold and sing with and teach literal children of God at their earliest and most impressionable stages.

The Nursery Leader brightened.

The Nursery Leader then added, “and I wouldn’t be able to do any of it if it weren’t for the guidance from the Prophet and the calling from the Bishop!”

They all three were very happy together.

A crow on a fence spoke to the bull in the field.

“Your bellow is not beautiful,” said the crow. “You should try to sound more like a nightingale. ” The crow squawked triumphantly at what it evidently considered to be a real zinger.

The bull replied,  “Nightingales sing beautifully, no doubt.  What my herd needs to hear is the bellow of a bull. ”

(more…)

A young man went climbing the mountain to speak to the guru at the mountain top.  On his way up, he met a wiry man in a robe climbing down.

“Did the guru give you wisdom?” the young man asked.

“I am the guru,” the other man said.

“Then why . . .?”

The guru nodded.  “Because I saw another mountain peak over there higher than this one that I’m going to ascend.  Because a voice said to me, ‘you are not the guru at the mountain top.  You are the guru climbing the mountain.’  And because I don’t know if any mountain top can be high enough.”

The guru took his leave and continued on down, but when he  looked back the young man was following him.

“Why are you following me?” Then the guru grinned and the young man grinned.  They both knew why.  They  continued on their way. (more…)