A fable.
In the village I grew up in we had an idiot. Hence, the âvillage idiotâ. A basically sweet and endearing lad who craved attention and loved to be at the center of it all. He latched onto groups and was pleasantly tolerated yet when ignored would become boisterous and tease. In his mind he was smarter than the rest. His ego knew no bounds. Despite the fact he had nothing to say, he said plenty of it. Those who knew him smiled lovingly for they knew he was nothing more than an idiot. Those who did not got angry and terse which amused the idiot to no end. And so it went, day after day until the day he disappeared. The village was relieved, good riddance! A collective sigh of relief was felt throughout this hamlet, the gadfly was gone.
Time passed and the village grew cold and gray. Visitors stopped visiting, the chapmanâs never came to peddle their wares, the ale in the taverns grew old and stale and the wine turned to vinegar. The crow was the only bird to be found nesting in this borough.
Then one day upon the road leading into the village a man appeared wearing a harlequin suit. Everyone was intrigued with this beguiling figure. Mysterious, yet there was something oddly familiar about him. With his lute he entertained, cajoled, and exchanged stories of mirth. Over time he was found to latch onto groups and was pleasantly tolerated yet when ignored would become boisterous and tease. In his mind he was smarter than the rest. His ego knew no bounds. Despite the fact he had nothing to say, he said plenty of it.
The clouds broke and color returned to the village. Visitors appeared, the village square once again hosted the itinerate peddlers, ale and grog flowed freely, and songbirds filled the air. An ever so comfortable normality returned to the village. It was then that even the coldest of hearts began to smile for they knew the idiot had returned.
But something was lost, the idiots relevance. Over time he learned he was merely a fool. No one listened to him, no one paid him any heed, he had lost the one thing he desired most; an audience. Then a revelation came upon him:
God smiles upon those who smile upon the idiot.
However, to him it made no sense, for he enjoyed the banter and tease. Alas, he was the village idiot.
And so it goes.
Just,
my2cents
In the village I grew up in we had an idiot. Hence, the âvillage idiotâ. A basically sweet and endearing lad who craved attention and loved to be at the center of it all. He latched onto groups and was pleasantly tolerated yet when ignored would become boisterous and tease. In his mind he was smarter than the rest. His ego knew no bounds. Despite the fact he had nothing to say, he said plenty of it. Those who knew him smiled lovingly for they knew he was nothing more than an idiot. Those who did not got angry and terse which amused the idiot to no end. And so it went, day after day until the day he disappeared. The village was relieved, good riddance! A collective sigh of relief was felt throughout this hamlet, the gadfly was gone.
Time passed and the village grew cold and gray. Visitors stopped visiting, the chapmanâs never came to peddle their wares, the ale in the taverns grew old and stale and the wine turned to vinegar. The crow was the only bird to be found nesting in this borough.
Then one day upon the road leading into the village a man appeared wearing a harlequin suit. Everyone was intrigued with this beguiling figure. Mysterious, yet there was something oddly familiar about him. With his lute he entertained, cajoled, and exchanged stories of mirth. Over time he was found to latch onto groups and was pleasantly tolerated yet when ignored would become boisterous and tease. In his mind he was smarter than the rest. His ego knew no bounds. Despite the fact he had nothing to say, he said plenty of it.
The clouds broke and color returned to the village. Visitors appeared, the village square once again hosted the itinerate peddlers, ale and grog flowed freely, and songbirds filled the air. An ever so comfortable normality returned to the village. It was then that even the coldest of hearts began to smile for they knew the idiot had returned.
But something was lost, the idiots relevance. Over time he learned he was merely a fool. No one listened to him, no one paid him any heed, he had lost the one thing he desired most; an audience. Then a revelation came upon him:
God smiles upon those who smile upon the idiot.
However, to him it made no sense, for he enjoyed the banter and tease. Alas, he was the village idiot.
And so it goes.
Just,
my2cents
