Your happiness then?
Or maybe your self confidence? We aren't picky.
On a hill, near a village, lived a hermit who had dedicated his life to the study of
bunraku performance. He knew that often the village had celebrations wherein the youths would occasionally try their hand at recreations of the delicate art of combining the acts of puppeteering and music to tell fantastic stories of both ages past, and those fabricated on the spot. After many years, the hermit had made his way down into town to check up on the current state of his beloved art, only to become horrified. At the center of town was a mockery of what was his core pleasure in life- the villagers had circled with the village's prized bunraku equipment; the puppets, the shamisens, and the drums.
One youth spoke: "This puppet looks funny," he said, while holding it up by an arm. "Laugh."
Another replied: "This shamisen has been handed down for ages." he plucked at it, holding the tortoise-shell plectrum with the wrong fingers. "Remember."
A third added: "This drum is large." He struck at it, with no power in his wrists. "Become fearful!"
The hermit spake unto them, about the glory of successful bunraku of past years, and how the tools they held were not nearly as important as the hands that held them, and the mind that drove those hands. Becoming enraged at this, assuming the simple criticism- which came from a place of honesty within the monk's heart- as insult; that they must adhere to his dated ways and stop having fun! The villagers threatened to shake the puppets wildly, pluck the strings harshly, and smash on the drums with no care for rhythm or power.
"We hope this angers you! We hope you know there's nothing you can do to stop us!"
And the monk shrugged, for this was true. He could do nothing to stop them. And yet he had enough hope within him to smile, because he knew that with enough shaking, enough discordant sour notes, and enough feeble beats, the villagers might grow bored and move on to other things. But deeper within was a stronger hope- the hope that through their cacophony, the villagers may one day learn to move the puppet with grace, pluck the strings in a soothing manner, and develop the muscle to strike the drum with fervor.
Zen Edit: Modified one line for clarification.
Author
Topic: Compilation of DF Memes (Read 4792 times)