Tales of Wisdom

ONCE upon a time, ever so many years ago, Truth suddenly vanished from out of the world. When people perceived this, they were greatly alarmed and at once sent five wise men in search of Truth. They set out, one in this direction and one in that, all plentifully equipped with traveling expenses and good intentions. They sought for ten long years. 

In a time long ago, in a place of fields and pastures, lived a farmer who had three sons. To any farmer, having one son was considered a great boon. But having three, well… that was a blessing for which he would thank every star in the heavens above. But not this farmer. He had given up thanking his lucky stars some time ago because these three sons of his were as lazy as ever could be. 

The time of year when the nights grow steadily longer has arrived. Here in the Northeast at least, it seems that the long hot days of summer passed by quickly,  and the brilliant array of colorful Autumn foliage has also swiftly come and gone. Suddenly, it is November. On a particularly cold and windy night about 1700 years ago, a young Roman horse soldier by the name of Martin came across a beggar at the city gates of Amiens, France.

In a long-ago time when people lived in close connection with the earth and all its creatures, a tribe of Indian people living in a village near the sea. Among them was a wise and kind old warrior who at his birth had been given great power. And with this power, he could perform many wonderful deeds. Nothing was beyond his understanding, for he knew all things. His wife had long passed on, but he had one daughter. She was very beautiful and gentle and took no interest in frivolous things. She lived a very quiet life and all the people liked her well. She was always welcome wherever she went. 

Once upon a time, there lived a man who had nearly as many children as there were sparrows in the garden. He had to work very hard all day to get them enough to eat, and was often tired and cross, and abused everything and everybody so that people called him ‘Father Grumbler.’ 

High on a hill in the land of Phrygia, in a little house of tumble-down stones lived an aged couple, Philemon and Baucis. Long had they had loved one another, from the days when they were children. Their love never waned throughout the many years they lived but grew over the course of time, into ever deeper compassion. 

In distant ages of ice and stone, when the long, high glaciers of Norway poked their cold noses into Friesland, the shrine of Stavo the storm-god stood, in the city of Stavoren. These were poor times for the people of Stavoren. But many pilgrims came to worship at Stavo’s alters and new religion entered the land, and in time trade paths opened, to the warm lands of the south. Ships sailed out and brought back wealth, and a great, prosperous city sprang up to which the counts of Holland granted privileges, second to none. And the city glistened on the banks of the Zuider Zee for quite some time - but not forever.