There was this man called John, you
see. He wasn't a great deal like John the Baptist, it has to be said
– unless you count the fact that he lived in the desert and waved
his fists around a lot; and he also wasn't a lot like Noel Edmonds.
So he wasn't out there living alone in the desert to benefit the rest
of mankind, far from it. He was definitely doing it for himself.
John, you see, was a mumukshu. A
mumukshu is someone with a burning desire to be free of limitation.
The desert was limitless, or it seemed that way. John could stand at
the edge of the universe and create worlds out of his own
imagination. He'd long since finished with the armchairs and coffee
tables of life; wives and children were the next thing to go. Finally
he'd ditched his clothes, and now, here he was, wandering about the
desert naked. The landscape would have looked on with unattached
enjoyment, had there been a landscape.
John, you see, was a big fan of
trousers. He was always trying to find the right pair. He had
millions of pairs, all very nice. But none of them felt like the
ultimate trousers, to him. So he was constantly thwarted. The desire
for psychedelic trousers just got stronger and stronger. He tried
renouncing trousers for a while, and then he'd find himself in a
shop, buying them indiscriminately, or he'd wake up with this new and
alarming pair of trousers.
But the fact is, trousers don't make
you happy. The removal of the desire reveals your nature, which is
happiness. And then the itch starts again.
So John ditched everything, like I
said, and was out in the desert, being happiness. His wife was in the
work house, where she liked it. The children, God knew where they
were.
One day John woke up in the desert to
discover that he had no legs; not only that, but that he'd never
had any. The whole thing had
been a misunderstanding. What he'd taken to be legs, weren't legs at
all. So there'd never been a need for trousers, which was just
aswell, because like the legs, they didn't exist.
I can
go home now, thought John, but he didn't.
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