Ultimatum

“Oh, Hello there.”

“Hi.”

“You scared me.

“Yes.”  The man chuckled, his eyes glistening with humor, “I have a tendency to do that. I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“That’s, uh, okay. I just wasn’t expecting to find anyone out this far.”

 

“Hm… Yes, it is a tad far from human existences. But far from anything else? Not really. Dare one say it is in fact more blissful without the racket of the humans. They can be so noisy sometimes!”

            Then the strange man proceeded to prod at his fire while the traveler tried to eye him up as crazy, mystic, lonely or all three. Perhaps he’s a hermit who has had too much alone time, thought the traveler.

            As the young man began to move on from this weird encounter, the old stranger looked up again with a rather toothless grin and asked him a peculiar question, or at least it seemed peculiar to the traveler. To the old stranger it was something he questioned everyday, thereby seeming a normal everyday conversational inquiry.

            “Do you Believe in anything, traveler?”

            The weary traveler turned to look at the man’s face, looking for a trace of insanity. No eye twitch. No self-muttering conversations. No drooling or malfunction of any kind. Simply a crooked smile and the wisest, most wrinkle folded eyes he had ever seen. He decided that this man must be the latter of the assumptions: lonely. A lonely, old hermit with nothing but time to waste on philosophy and nonsense.

            AS the traveler was in no hurry, he decided to pander the man for a short while. His back was sore anyways from the weight of his pack.

            He replied truthfully to the old man’s question, “That is a strange question you ask. But in all honesty, I’m uncertain as to my beliefs.  Why prey tell do you ask? Have you been here so long that you have nothing to contemplate but God himself?”

            Again the old hermit smiled. For this was the answer he had been expecting. You see, he knew all too much about the modern humans’ lack of faith. He knew that their God was one of religion, of construct, of unbreakable rules focused on redemption.  He knew that they had been following the same rules for far to long, mostly in hopes of finding peace among their chaos. Reaching for religion when it was faith they lacked. He thus asked, “Why does this handsome, brave, young traveler have no certainties? You appear to have everything: health, food, money enough to travel and own nice hiking gear; I assume you have a home too?”

            The traveler had realized this man was forward, but not so much as to pry so privately into his life so fast. In normal conversation, one would ask first where one is from, or what is one’s name, or how many years one has been breathing. Instead, this man proceeded with an almost rude inquiring as to his religious basement.

            Conversely, he also could not help but want to rest. He had been walking for days with little rest and no conversation whatsoever.  This elderly man posed no threat to him and if anything, allowed for a brief rest and interesting, though blunt, conversation. So, he sat on the stump across from the man and his fire, his pack beside him for security purposes.

            After he was settled, he answered the strange and patient man who was still grinning at him with unwavering attention. 

            “You are right, stranger, I should not question God or whatever it is that manages my luck and destiny. To Whomever, I should be quite grateful, I have been blessed in life with all that you stated and more. I also have friends and family, which are my luckiest “possessions”, if you can call them that. Not everyone “has” a family. I am indebted to the omnipotent Whomever for them.”

            As he finished his answer, the old man showed a minimal sign of cogitation. Something in what the handsome traveler said was of note.

            “I had no question of your grateful debt to God or “Whomever”. That is not belief that is guilt.  What I am inquiring is your belief in God, His existence, not his blessings. Anyone can recognize the best of their life, just as they can recognize the worst. Neither revelations are the base of belief. of faith.”

            The traveler did not know how to reply now. He had told this crazy bat that he was uncertain. What more of a reason did he want apart from this beliefs in goodness? After all, is that not reason enough to believe in God? If there was no God, then there would certainly be less goodness, less blessings, less miracles, correct? What is faith but not the belief in God and His blessings?

            The traveler was still pondering these matters when the old stranger interjected another question, a simpler question.

            “Do you believe in love?”

            “Ah! A question I can answer with certainty!  Yes. Yes, of course I believe in love. That is what keeps my family together.  It is what makes me happy when I am sad. Love is what has driven not only my life but the times of history! Yes, I believe in love. Do you mister?”

            The old man smiled, and mused, “you no longer call me stranger once you recognize a common thought, a common question with a common answer.  Naturally, you believe in love. With blessings such as yours, how could you not?”

            There was a slight pause in the old man’s speech, purely for dramatic effect. How he loved a good drama!  Then he continued, “What if, hypothetically, you were to lose all of your blessing in one hour? What then? You have no house, no money, no food, no clothes, no friends and certainly no family.  You are stripped. Bare as Dam in the Garden of Eden before his awakening. You’re wits are you only possession, but still you are naked. A re you still a believer in love?”

            What a question! Thought the traveler. He simply sat with his mouth gaped open in shock and in thought. How could he even begin to imagine a world without Colleen? Without his kids? His parents and siblings? Without home? True, he had been alone for three days, technically without all of the above. Nevertheless, he could always return to them, was going to return to them as soon as the was finished with his mountain trek across the Rockies. He could not imagine them not there, at home, his life not where he left it. He glanced up at the stranger again, the man still grinning though at the fire not him. He was palpably allowing his last question to sink in and be mulled thoroughly.  The traveler then looked up and around him and surveyed the newborn darkness with a grown.  He had not noticed its slow encroach over the past thirty minutes. The clouds had already made the day gloomy, but with the onset of dusk added to the thick canopy of trees, night had quickly encompassed the atmosphere leaving the traveler to camp with the stranger.

            Not a complete bollucks, the stranger already had a fire made, and with the traveler’s canned goods and boiling tin, they could have a splendid feast. Or rather, he could. Though, sharing his food pained him, he knew he would share, because that is how he was brought up: it’s rude not to share your food in front of company. Even if that company is insane.

            So, he broke the silence and asked the man if he would enjoy some supper, canned beans and soup, with a side of cooked carrots and cracked bread.

            “Are you certain that you wish to share food with me? You’ve obviously packed with great care, and I wouldn’t want to diminish you’re stores. You must have a few days yet of travelling haven’t you?”

            The traveler assure the man that he had more than enough food to share, and that he was certain that he wished to break bread with such a mysterious philosopher.

            “Ah! Break bread! How that phrase amuses me! Why we should be just like Jesus and His disciples! Of course, without the “last time” part, without a Jesus and as far as I know, I don’t believe neither you nor I are Judas. Hm…,” he thought, “Actually, it shan’t be anything like then but I would still very much enjoy it! You are so kind, traveler!”

            At this the traveler smiled inside himself. He was usually kind, yes, but he had questioned sharing and feared that he felt a twinge of guilt.

            “No problem,” he replied as he started to take out the cans of food.

            The old man chirped up again with the same enthusiasm he had about breaking bread, “I do have one catch though.”

            Oh no, though the traveler, what is it now? I dodged the last question with such stealth, unless he is going to bring it back up again? In vexation he retorted, “And what’s that?”

            “What’s what is that I asked you a simple yes or no question before, and in order for you to have the pleasure of giving me supper, I kindly ask for a response, Yes or No. If you have dessert, I will also ask “Why?” But doubt that you have cherry tart tucked away in that pack of yours?”

            The old man sat with his half grin and cajoling gaze again. The traveler stopped unpacking, rather astounded at this man’s audacity. He turned on his haunches to face the lunatic.

            “Pardon? I’m sorry? I’m giving you some of MY food, and you are asking me for a favor? Or rather, an ultimatum? On what grounds do you think you have to ask such things? I mean, you have nothing on which to bargain with, you have nothing I want. Do you think I WANT to give you my food? If you do you’re certainly insane.”

            “Ah, yes my grounds,” replied the stranger. “Well, I only know of the one. It is the one you and I stand and walk on, that is obvious enough. But it is also the air we breathe, the sunshine we feel, the fire before us and that also rests in our hearts. It is everything, monsieur, it is all that is or will ever be that I rest my case upon. For my ultimatum is not an ultimatum at all. If anything, it is a blessing for you in disguise. How? You are thinking.  I’ll tell you, Lord knows you’re a little too dense right now to figure it out on your own.  Firstly, you have to give me some of your food, while secondly, you must pretend that you have nothing to live for. Both are actions on your part, responses to my being here before you. Neither are to your detriment in reality as both are temporary states of being, correct?”

            The traveler nodded a slight concurrence. He was still confused as to why these actions were blessing to him.

            “And because they are temporary in sense,” the old man continued, “then they are but a learning experience, something people the world over ignorantly crave, and which you are adamantly refusing.  Will you not forever feel goodness when you recall your kindness to me?  Will you not always be ever more grateful for you family and for the love you’ve been given if you pretend they don’t exist? I believe, monsieur, that you may be a tad more blind than I am, and that is saying quite a lot if I don’t say so myself.”

            At that last line the traveler perked his ears and eyes and scanned the stranger’s face with scrutiny. “Well, all be,” he muttered. Perhaps due to the dancing fire between them, or the old man’s excessive eye wrinkles, or both circumstances, whatever the cause,  he had not noticed the whole time they had been conversing that the old man’s eyes were clouded with a soft haze.  Yet, sure enough, beneath the soft, saggy crows feet and the under and the over eye bags, the traveler could barely see the man’s eyes, let alone their color, which was a fort opaque, the pupil faint in its indolence.

            “I’m sorry,” sputtered the traveler, “I had not noticed your disability prior to your declaration. I am now wondering though, how did you know I was handsome or carried good hiking gear? You cannot see me at all can you?”

            The old man had to laugh at this, why it was all to funny! He had not spoken with another human in years, and he had forgotten how vain and superficial they are.  “Well,” laughed the old man, “thank you for your apology! And to answer your vain questions, your good looks are emanated from your confident spirit which I heard from a mile away, and your good equipment was just a guess.  I’m known to be very good at guessing games when I wish to be. What’s funny to me is that I do not see a difference in your noticing my ability or not. My blindness does not change the ultimatum, or rather, the blessing in disguise. Ion fact, it is YOUR blindness that has produced it! If you could have answered me with a light and free heart, you could have saved your food for yourself and made camp closer to your destination, all the while being glad to have answered me truthfully.”

            “But as it is,” he continued, “you were unable to answer two of my three questions. And if you don’t mind my saying so, that second one was a given. Thus you are zero for two with a gimmee, and still sitting here discussing a matter you think is ridiculous and disastrous to think about. Why don’t you know that thinking is simply an activity like all others? To think , to read, to sit, to climb. It is all just to kill time, or rather, to use it for our happiness, granted it does not hurt another’s.  Thus, what is the harm in pretending? In thinking? It is not real or lasting until you act upon your thoughts.”

            The old man appeared to be finished, but the traveler asked just in case. “Are you quite done, old man? Would you like to hear my answer or keep talking?”

            “Oh, an answer has been settled?” retorted the old man. He was not expecting the traveler to become so short with him so quickly.  Another characteristic he had forgotten about humans, that they can never listen too long, especially to suggestions which they take into their souls as personal insults, which is nearly everything. My, it is most difficult to have good conversations these days!

            “Yes, I think I have,” concluded the traveler. “Though, I’d like to say that I have a very light heart, filled with love. It’s only when I’m asked to forget all of my happiness in life and give food in exchange for it that I become a tad bitter and rude. You seem to think thought is not harmful unless turned into action, but I quite disagree.  It is bad thoughts that are the origin of bad actions, of crimes in this world. I also think that negative thoughts are the seeds of depression, despondency and indifference.  You cannot argue to me that thoughts are harmless, they are the very origin of harm!”

            After this last exclamation the traveler ceased. He realized that throughout his entire speech he head escalated in anger and frustration, his heart beating faster, breath a bit short and his face filled with blood and heat.  His counterpart merely stared in his direction with glazed eyes, seemingly unknowing as to the traveler’s enraged appearance. Though no doubt aware of it through the voice and tone of the traveler, and also this uncanny ability to sense other beings’ emotions. The old man kindly turned his attention to the fire while the traveler calmed himself with a drink of water from his canteen.

            After a few minutes, the former interceded a quiet and patient, “So, you have an answer? I may have missed it. Could you please dilute it for me?”