The Man and the Canoe

Photo by cevans_pollard of Flickr.com

Once upon a time, a man lived by the river. He watched the canoes as he sat by the shore and thought "Ahh! If I could just have one of those, I would be complete. All my troubles would be over. I would move places much more quickly and I would have a way of carrying all my gear rather than relying on my weak ankle."

As good fortune would have it, one stormy night, a canoe washed up on the shore near this man's home. He patched it up, inspected it with great care, and finally pushed out into the water. The canoe worked just how as should have and smoothly moved through the water. He paddled it around everywhere for a week, until one morning he woke up and realized the pain in his back was much worse than it had been for years. He realized that this was from paddling the canoe, and since that time he has not touched the canoe.

I know this story because the man told it to me. At the time he had a pack on a back and a stick in his hand and I am certain I will never see him again. Just before he walked out of my house, he said this to me: "I am an old man, and I have now seen all there is to see, but I still have no advice to give you. I will walk west, if anyone asks, tell them where I have gone. I wish you well!. And with that he turned and left, walking slowly and favoring his left foot.

For any readers, I would love to have your feedback on what you think this story means.

Currently listening to "Hell of a Year" by Sage Francis