There once was a man of great talent, who could accomplish almost anything he set his focus upon. He had become an extraordinary musician, painter, writer, and philosopher — a man skilled in both sciences and legalities. There was no shortage of people who would praise both his discipline and his skill. And many said to themselves, “What a special kind of man this is, to have gained so much knowledge and experience.”
But the man did not feel this way in his heart. For he said to himself, “There is no one who will speak with me for even a minute. No one who will walk with me for even a mile. Every friend I have ever known has said goodbye and I am not where they are. Those who are here are strange to me, as I am to them.”
He spent many nights with this thought in his head. And such thoughts are too big to allow very many others in. He had traveled the globe, but could find no comfort beyond the four walls of his humble home. It was after a number of months that he discovered he had dwelt too long on the problem at hand, and not on the questions that would lead him to the solution. “What is my purpose,” he asked. “Of what good am I?”
So he decided to ask this of the local acquaintances in the town. Many of them said many different things, all of which came to this: “How can you ask what good you have or to what end your life has served? You have written great poetry and painted breathtaking portraits. You have soothed aches with medicines and calmed hearts with song. You are a special man, indeed.”
But their flattery fell false to him, for it was all about his works and not about his character. If his deeds were good, this did not make him good.
So he traveled all over the lands to be with those whom he had once called friend. He traveled through east and west, north and south and sought out every great companion he had ever known, asking them to what good end his life had served. Many of them said many different things, all of which came to this: “How can you ask what good you have or to what end your life has served? We made many wonderful memories together. We have cried together and laughed together, fought together and overcome together. Through it all, we have survived and will continue to do so in the days to come. This — freindship and memory — is a special gift, indeed.”
But their comfort left his stomach aching, for they spoke of things that were no more. When good things are gone, what remains that is still good?
He journeyed back to his home; the questions were his only companions. And though many knew his name, he felt utterly lost and alone. He prayed and prayed for understanding, for direction, and most of all — for purpose. But there came no answer.
Soon he cursed himself for being weak and for being selfish. He rebuked himself for needing what would obviously never be given him. And within his heart, his other feelings built a wall around his sorrow so that no one else could see it.
It was in the midst of this dark time that he discovered a small spider-web hidden in the ceiling corner on his home. The web belonged to a deadly creature, who was extremely dangerous due to its small size and uncertain temperament. The man was about to destroy the net, when he noticed a small fly struggling to break free from the silk prison.
The image reminded him of his own dilemma — trapped in a web of questions and emotions that could easily devour him whole if he lingered with them for much longer. And he realized, “The spider intends to eat this helpless animal, so to the spider, the fly’s purpose is food. However, the fly struggles against its bindings, so to the fly, its purpose is to survive. And me, I cannot choose a side:
For if I destroy the web, I will not save the fly,
And if I leave it alone, I will watch him die.”
And with this revelation came yet another, (one that lingered with him for a long moment) — that what we intend and what is intended for us are not always the same thing.
Eventually, he turned away from the web and did not destroy it. He thought it better to not know if the fly escaped or if the spider’s hunger was satisfied. He suddenly thought it better to laugh at the existence of things than to fear their ending. He believed it greater to take action and to create and to encounter than to seek reasons for such things.
And he knew, for that moment at least, that life was bigger than meaning. That it was, instead, full of meaning — and if something only serves one purpose, than that thing is dead. To be alive is to be above meaning and to allow purposes to come to you in their own time.
With this, he smiled, for he was at last glad to have no idea what he would do next.
– The End
