The Soldier and The Monk (Fable)

A Monk is seated quietly, at the Golden Gates of Heaven.

A soldier who just lost his life in battle greets him at the gates.  “Hello. Monk. Is this where I enter to get into heaven?” The monk gently smiles and asks..”Is it?”  The soldier confused said “That’s what I just asked you?  Is this the gate to Heaven? am I on the right path?” The monk smiled again and asked “Which path did you come from?”  The soldier turned behind him, and there were thousands of roads and paths.  “Which one did you come from?” asked the Monk.  The soldier scratched his forehead and replied..”I don’t know.  I didn’t know that I had traveled that many roads. What should I do? Should I go back?” he asked the monk.   The Monk asked him..”Soldier if you do, which road would he take?”  Frustrated the soldier dropped all he carried and began to cry.  The monk continued to smile and sit quietly before him.  The soldier again turned behind him and looked at the many places from which he traveled.  He soon grew tired and weary and decided to sit.  He sat and sat. For days, weeks, and years..The Soldier sat. The Monk sat. Until one day, a Grocery Clerk walked up. He smiled and said “Hello” to the Monk and the Soldier and continued to walk into the Golden Gates of Heaven.

The Soldier swiftly rose to his feet, and asked the Monk, in bewilderment, “Why did he do that? How did he do that?”  The Monk smiled; ” Soldier, there are many paths behind you, but only one in front. Why would you question which way to go?  The Soldier shrugged his shoulders and laughed.  He gathered his things and walked right into the Golden Gates of Heaven.

“Never get too occupied with the past that you can not see the future”.

Death to Disappointment

My Post (68)
Image Credit: Sheba Baby

Rummaging through the desk fingers plummeted deep beneath papers. Fingertips desperately searching, until I found it. A plain white, unlined, notepad. Ferociously, I wrenched it from the drawer and grabbed a glass jar of thumbtacks from the shelf. I quickly retreated to the kitchen. At, the far end.. lies an empty wall; my firing target.

I threw the things on the kitchen table, yanked a black marker from my back pocket, and wrote erratically. I scribbled..then ripped. Scribbled then ripped… scribbling and ripping


…with tears melting into my cheek, I snatched the pages from the table and pinned each one to the wall..a circle I formed…

…quickly I ran to the bedroom closet, on top of a chair I climbed, tossing shoe boxes, scarves, clothes, purses, anything and everything that was in my way..I threw…until I found it “Got it.”

On the floor fell the metal box..

Leaping down, I rushed to the corner of the room, near the bed, I knelt. Plucking away at the edge of a loose floor panel, I released the key.

With the box and key..I ran to the kitchen…dropped it on the table, opening, ..peering, “Beautiful.”

Firmly placed in hand, I gripped the silver gun..with my eye on the target I shot.

I shot..I fired..I shot..I fired.. I executed..I annihilated..I massacred, I obliterated, I assassinated, I slaughtered….I killed it all.

Disappointment lay dead. Ripped to shreds and riddled with bullets, on the cold floor.

Smiling, I blew the smoke from the tip of my piece, grabbed my purse and off to the market I skipped.