[ Many years ago, I wrote a a ton of fictional short stories. Many of them were inspirational. Many of them weren't. I'm not sure where this one fits, but it somehow seems pertinent. ]
Once upon a time, there was a tribe of people who lived isolated and sheltered from the world. There was great poverty and suffering. They lacked the farmland to produce their own food, lacked the tools to wage war and there was great fear that one day they would be overtaken by a more powerful tribe.
To this end, the chief decreed that an ornate vessel be crafted out of clay, clad in silver and adorned with the finest decoration. During the day, the vessel would be displayed in the center of the village, and people were to open the top and pour their fears into it. At night, it would be locked away, sheltered from the elements, its beauty retained.
Over the years, many people coveted the beautiful vessel. Others wanted to destroy it, some because it reminded them of their fears and others simply hated the idea that such a vessel should exist.
Eventually, the vessel was locked away in a mountain and left to tarnish.
Rumors spread to surrounding tribes about the fear vessel. Some spoke of it being an evil vessel to be despised, so full of fear and dread that it should be destroyed. Others spoke only its beauty.
One man became intrigued by the idea of such of ornate vessel being locked away. It consumed his thoughts. “Why would they pour their fears into such a treasure, only to lock it away from the world?” he wondered. He began to dream about the vessel every night, and the vessel seemed to be beckoning him with a sorrowful moan.
After a while, he finally decided that he should set out to find it.
The path was long and arduous, but after searching for years, he came upon a cave near a mountain stream. As he entered, he heard the sorrowful moan from his dream and knew that he was close. Clamoring through roots and over rocks, he finally came to the end of the cave and found the object of his long quest. Lying there was the fear vessel, tarnished and covered in dust.
He carefully picked it up, wiped it clean, and decided to return to home.
At home, he took the task of cleaning the still-sealed vessel thoroughly, restoring its precious beauty. He placed it carefully where he could look upon it from anywhere he was in his home, as it gave him comfort look upon such a beautiful thing. At night, he would dream and the sorrowful moan became a contented hum.
One day, he decided that the vessel needed to be returned to where it had been created so many years before. He packed his meager belongings and found himself setting up a home in the village of the vessel’s origin.
Some people were happy to have their precious vessel returned to their village. Others coveted the vessel and attempted to steal it away. Still others hated the vessel, and wanted it destroyed. But he kept it safe, carrying it with him everywhere he went, displaying it proudly.
He continued to dream of the vessel. Eventually, the man’s curiosity finally got the best of him. He awoke one night, and decided to open the vessel. When he peered inside at all of the fears people had put inside it, he became frightened himself.
It was then that he began the slow task of gathering a little of the fear at a time and releasing it into the nearby mountain stream. Several months passed and the vessel more and more beautiful all the time as he continued to polish it and remove some of the fear from inside it.
The more fear he touched to carry away, the more afraid he became. Still, he continued to clean the vase each day until he spilled the vessel upon him. The fear inside washed over him, and he became terrified. It ran across the ground, making everyone in the village afraid.
Hearing of this, the chief ordered that the man be exiled from the village and that the vessel once more more be used for its intended purpose. The people once again began filling it with their fears, ending all that the man had attempted to do. Humiliated and defeated, he returned to his home, still dreaming of the vessel, once more hearing its sorrowful moan.
He decided that the best thing would be to steal the vessel away, to return it to his home where it could be content once more. Set to this course, he became frantic, and more and more afraid. Still, he pressed on and began preparing for the journey back to the remote village.
Every step of the way, he stumbled and fell. Still, he tried desperately to reach the vessel. Every night as he slept, the vessel moaned to him, and strengthened his resolve.
Continuing onward, he met a sage who was returning from the village. “Why do you wish to go there?” he asked.
The man relayed his story and spoke of his dreams of the sorrowful vessel.
The sage pondered for a moment, and replied, “If you follow this path for the dreams of contentment, then be on your way. But if your dreams are only of fear and sorrow, then you are surely a fool.” With that, he walked away.
The man stayed to ponder the sage’s words for several nights. On the third night, it was decided. He had dreamed of the beauty and sorrow of the vessel, and in his haste to end its sorrow, he had spilled its fear into him. The dreams of the sorrowful moan were powerful, yet what he truly wanted was the contentment that he felt when the vase was well kept, where it could be free of the fear which gave it its sorrowful moan.
And for that, he continued on his journey to the remote village.
