This story does not have a happy ending. This story is a bit of truth about all of us, unless we know The Truth that sets us free from ourselves.
There were two young people, one a pauper and the other a prince. They saw each other often, whether in the town square or passing on the road. This being the case, they thought about each other often. But each had his own perspective.
The pauper made a habit of musing on the immense tragedy of his own pauper-dom. He was poor, was he not? He had to work every waking moment, did he not? He lived alone. How sad! As to possessions? One tunic (if it could be called a tunic) and a pair of trousers (all patches and holes) comprised his earthly goods. Even the hay he slept on was provided out of the guilt-born generosity of a nearby farmer. His plain fare consisted of brown bread and fresh milk if he worked hard enough to earn it. A bath was unheard of. Clean water? Preposterous. Yes, his life was a tragedy. He knew it well. And how utterly horrible it all was.
The prince pondered his affairs and business with gloomy resignation. He had everything, and therefore he had a right to be miserable. A handful of servants helped him to dress. A score of attendants could be summoned by a mere shiver of his little toe. He could be spoon-fed his porridge in the morning if he wasn’t in the humor to lift a utensil. Did his nose drip? Ah! No worry. The court physician himself could be sent for to wipe that pug-like appendage with three silk handkerchiefs. Oh yes, everything was in such a state of utter perfection that he was perfectly smothered by it.
And so these two young people would pass one another on the street, one in a carriage and the other sweeping mud. They would often look at each other in those moments and ponder each other’s lives.
The prince would often remark to his tutor, “Look at that boy! He has everything I could wish for. He can get dirty in the street. He can earn a coin for his hard work. He can sleep outdoors if he pleases and run wild with the goats if he wishes! He has everything that the world has to offer, while I’m stuck in a horrible hole of helplessness.” He was rather fond of alliteration, having just learned about it in his studies.
The pauper would likewise amuse himself with similar thoughts. “Whatta swell chap,” he would spit. “Look at ‘im! Drownin’ in money, comfor’ble and cozy. Prolly sittin’ on a silk cushion and eatin’ plums and peaches most days. Prolly never done a day o’ work in his life. Prolly richer ‘en every livin’ body in the world. That’s what it is, I’m sayin’. He’s got all that life can give a body.”
And after a good deal of reflection on what they did not possess, each would sigh and feel a bit sorrier for themselves. I wish I could tell you that they changed. They never did. Because they refused to see their own lot in life as a gift, they lived in picture-perfect misery.
I know, it isn’t very happy.
Love,
Hannah Jo <3
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