A parable III

As I drove on the interstate heading toward Lowell, I saw a motorcycle coming up fast behind me. It was changing lanes as the man expertly swerved and maneuvered through traffic. As the bike passed me on the left, I looked over briefly to see a younger man without a helmet looking back toward me as he passed. His upper body was covered in tattoos. He nodded once at me as he roared past. Something about him seemed familiar. He sped on, and I forgot about him after a couple of minutes.

Pulling into the industrial warehouse parking lot, I drove around the side of the long building and parked. When I exited the building, I saw that the man who passed me on the motorcycle was in the parking lot. He leaned against his bike as if he were waiting. He was close to the entrance I needed. 

As I drew closer, he nodded and said, “Hello, X.” 

I stopped and looked at him, trying to place him in my memory. When my eyes met his, I realized it was the man who once answered to the name Joshua. Gone were the wrinkles and gray hair. 

“I see that you’re starting to see things as they are, X.” Joshua smiled intently.

“It’s quite a shock to recognize you, even though you’ve changed your camouflage, Joshua.” 

“X, I never camouflage. I am each of the people you see and am always myself. Simplicity is always complex, and vice versa, if you’re paying attention. And I think that you are.” Joshua laughed, this time a young man’s laugh, full of baritone and vitality. 

“I wish I could do that, Joshua. Change things up at will.” I smiled at my cleverness.

“But you can. When you realize it, you’ll wonder why you put on the same clothes and followed the same unsurprising path each morning.” 

“Joshua, I can’t change everything about myself on a whim like you.” I thought I had him cornered with my reply. I should have known better.

“I haven’t changed. It is your perception of me, X. When I passed you on the interstate, you only saw a speeding tattooed young man on his way to trouble. Am I wrong?”

I hesitated. “Well, yes. But that’s because that’s what I saw, Joshua.”

Joshua smiled. “What have I told you about how much of an illusion your eyes provide you? I ride the interstate like I am to remind people of the part of their nature that they think they miss. Adventure, being carefree, happy, without a care – and even danger. The illusion is that they already have all those things each day, if they choose them. It is a choice. And the universe is not a safe place to believe otherwise.”

I nodded because it always sounded true when he spoke, even if I didn’t understand the nuance. We usually do recognize truth, even if it is only in tiny morsels. And sometimes, not even when life gives it to us via a board across the back of our heads. 

“I look like this because people only see the truth from a place or person they are familiar with. Some see it in older people, some in teachers, and others in the clergy. Others find it in nature. Everyone would be happier if they realized that they could learn from anyone. That includes laborers, ex-convicts, and even the angry man shouting three doors down. Life is the teacher, and each person plays a role, positive or negative. But they must be willing to experience life from that perspective. You wouldn’t invest your life’s earnings with me, would you? But you’d assume I could change the tire on a car.”

“Damn, you got me again, Joshua.”

“Just don’t let your eyes or experience make assumptions for you, X. Everything has something to teach you.” He smiled again.

“Okay.”

“You promise?” He asked. “Ex nihilo nihil fit,” he added. “I don’t mean it in the philosophical sense. You can’t squeeze juice from a rock or get meaning from life unless you learn and pay close attention. Always.” 

With those inscrutable words, Joshua turned and sat on his motorcycle.

“I’ll see you another day, Joshua. Be safe.”

“There is no safety. Just precaution. You’ll learn about that, too. But another day, X.”

Just as my mouth opened to reply, Joshua’s bike roared to life, and he sped away, around the building and probably back toward the interstate. 

When I finished my errand, I drove back to the interstate, watching the hundreds of vehicles merge, pass, and continue on. Each contained someone who could teach me something if I listened.

Love, X

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