I am a long-time Futurist, and technologist. In my career, I have spanned the birth of personal computers, to the rise of Cloud Computing.
The old master always asked is there more?
The oldest master at the monastery died. His life was long and review. He taught many. He opened many minds to the possibility that there was more. We could learn from the world around us and discover more if we let the world show us. The master authors use the words more when describing what students could discover. He would say there is more when one of the students would approach him to a question. He would say more when one of the students would ask him a question about something said. To the master, there was more. And so, with just passing, the students and the other masters all sought an answer from him—one last lesson. The old master left nothing, at least that's what everybody thought.
About eight days after the old master's passing, a single piece of paper was found. It was stuck on the corner of the desk with the old master had sat. The first great debate that raged was at the note been there all along? Or had the great mystical more force brought the note to them eight days after the passing of the old master. The students and the other masters pondered that for a couple of days without opening the paper piece. For it was folded, and there were clear signs of ink in the middle. Many speculated that it was simply the word more written the last message from the old master.
At the end of the second day, as the evening sun sank into the sky and darkness began to move around the monastery, they gathered to unfold the note.
A drawing was held, the numbers one through 60 with 60 being all of the Masters and all of the students, and it was agreed that whoever drew the number six would unfold the note.
Number six was drawn by a young student. He walked to the edge of the desk with a note was. Unsure if he was lucky or cursed. It was the 10th day since the death of the oldest master. The student plucked the note from the desk and began to unfold. He did not wish to crack or tear the paper. The students scanned the paper as the other students, and the other masters all leaned forward to hear what he would say.
The student raised his eyes from the folded paper and, smiling, said it does not say more.
The other masters and the students all pushed forward, and one voice was heard saying, what does it say then?
It simply says, the student said, I would take one thing.
The Masters gathered on one side of the room. The students gathered on the other side of the room. What one thing was the old master taking? What did he mean? I will take one thing slowly. The two groups began to break up as each went off to silently meditate and consider the phrase I will take one thing.
It was eight days from the death of the old master the discovery of the note. It was two days before they were brave enough to open the note. But the sentence I will take one thing, took many days. Many wandered around the complex, saying the old master had taken his smile with him. Others postulated that the old master had taken more with him. Not more in the sense that he took more than one thing but is always asked why there is more? The old master had taken that with him.
A week became a month. A month became a season. And the season stretched and a half of the year.
One evening one of the masters called everyone together and said, I have the answer. Immediately there was a roar wondering what the answer was for? The master quickly said I have an answer to the riddle left with the death of the oldest master. I will take one thing. Everyone press is close excited to hear an answer to something they had been pondering for half a year. What was the message? What was the meaning?
The student found his three stones
The master stood on a tree stump severed the year before when the great winds blew. The best speaking voice he said I would take one thing: the old master took his smile with him. For a moment, all the Masterson students remembered the glorious smile of the oldest master. It had brought sunshine to the world. And accepting that as the truth, they all walked away except for one student. One student did not believe the old master had taken his smile. He saw that smile in the world around every day; he felt that he smiled in everything he did. He walked to the cube of the old master, where the old one had lived for many years. He looked around the room and realized. There was something wrong. Something the old man carried with him every day for his entire life. A set of three round stones. That the oldest master had kept in his pocket, they were gone.
As was the tradition with an old master, the body was kept for a year before it would be cremated. The student went to the room with the old master's body was kept. He patted the pocket where the rocks had always been. They were not there. Perplexed, perhaps confused, the student began looking around the complex and seeking three stones. He had only seen them in the hands of the master one appeared to be clear. One appears to be of a brownish you, and the third appeared to be grayish. They were stone. That much the student knew, for they clapped when they rolled in the hands of the old master. The student looked high and low. Eventually, the student found three smooth round stones the same size as the old master stones, but the student was fairly convinced that they were different for they weren't the same color. He found a bluestone. He found a reddish stone. And he found an almost white stone he picked them up and rolled them in his hands. They made the same cracking noise that the old master stones had made. And suddenly, as he rolled the stones, he realized with the old master had taken the one thing. He had not taken his stones. He had not taken his smile. The old master had taken the message in the stones. The student clocking the stones in his hands realized the stones were not from the old master. Just as the old master stones had not been given to him, the stones were a story that he, the student, at to tell. You see, there is always more.
Authors Note: the three stones, or sometimes the two stones and occasional the four stones are a story I heard many years ago. Each of the stones represents a piece of us. The heart, the mind, and what we often call the soul or the essence of us beyond the heart and mind.
© 2021 DocAndersen