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tale 88
for days Written by
Rainer: rainer.lehrer@yahoo.com Learn
languages (via Skype): Rainer: + 36 20 549 52 97 or + 36 20 334 79 74 |
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For days He had been sitting in his attic
for days, surrounded by books, paintings, and musical instruments. Sometimes
he would sit down at the piano and play a little, but that didn't satisfy him
either. Three times a day the housekeeper brought him his food, changed the
water to wash his hands. The wood stove remained untouched and the windows
opened because it was summer. So he could hear the hustle and bustle of the
neighbouring children in the yard. Why didn't he go out to them? They liked
him, the weird bird from the attic. He always told them something funny. Most
of the time they surrounded him and didn't let him go until he had delighted
them with some tale. That was the customs duty that the crowd of children
demanded of him. But only of him, the other people in the house were punished
with indifference. They were just grey and boring. Children need colours to
fill their world of thoughts. And that was what made him tremble, what made
him shudder not to be able to satisfy the children with their demanding eyes.
The previous day even one, the smallest and cutest, had come to his door and
knocked. They knew from the housekeeper who thought he was a good-for-nothing
that he wasn't sick. "What should be with him!" She had answered
the little child, "he is sitting at his table and does nothing." He
hadn't opened the asking knock and the small, light steps had sadly gone back
down the stairs. However, at some point he would have to show himself and
admit that he, like everyone else, was colourless and average. Should he tell
them that he too just lived into the day and followed his instincts? No, he
couldn't. He was ashamed of being able to offer them only chocolate and
existence. But if we want humans to develop, we shouldn't just stuff our
children with sweets and buy them all sorts of toys from the shop window. One
needs spiritual nourishment. He could tell them some fable (story in which
the animals can speak) of Aesop, they would also be happy about it. Like
Phaedrus and later Jean de la Fontaine. But he knew that one or the other
would read the original sooner or later, and then of course would be very
disappointed and lose a role model. We need illusions, but we have to
be careful not to destroy them in the most brutal way. He wanted to stay true
to them, but above all to himself. And so he stayed locked up in his attic. |
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