So There Was this Guy (A Parable)

He stumbled through his days looking for a story that would give his life shape. The story could align his heart, mind, and spirit along a golden thread of direction and destiny. The thread, he knew, would give him energy and meaning. But it asked that he leave the familiar world of habit.

Every once in a while he thought he saw it down there on the floor, disappearing under the couch or heading out the door into the wild desert.

He'd reach for it, feel it, but then forget to follow it. He would drop it and go wash dishes or catch the news.

It went on like this for years, more years than he could count.

Seasons came and went and still he only occasionally spotted the thread beneath his feet, passing through a wall in front of him or winding around the base of a mesquite tree.

Gradually, a light that shone in him began to dim. A hunger remained, but faded to more of a memory. He was sad, not knowing the cause.

The thread, once thick, was now thin as a strand of spider web. He saw it in fading sunlight, waving in the breeze. It was no longer strong enough for him grab, but if he was delicate, he could still see where it led.

One day, he got up from his chair, took hold of the wispy silk, and began to make his way along its length. He had to make it up as he went along, had to trust and dance and feed the story line with drops of blood taken straight from his heart.

It led him away from safety, into the wildness of his dreams.

The last they saw of him was his entry into a deep forest.