Once upon a time there was a famous barber. He was so famous -- and so skilful at his trade -- that the local king would allow only this barber to cut the king's hair. The barber was very proud of this honour. (It was also very good for his business.) Unfortunately there was a major drawback:
The king had his hair cut in a private room. Just the king and the barber. The king... was absolutely bald ! And if the barber ever shared this secret the king would, he told the barber, have the barber's head removed from the barber's shoulders.
Well, the barber was a gossip. Being a gossip was, in those long-ago days, an essential requirement of all barbers. Yet this one piece of marvellous, juicy, absolutely all his own gossip -- could never be mentioned. Oh, the barber was so upset :-(
One of the barber's other clients, a philosopher of the mind, noticed that the barber was very upset. And getting worse. The philosopher tried to help... but the barber would only say, I can't say but I want to say.
The philosopher gave this advice: Go down to the river. Hide amongst the reeds. Whisper your secret so that only the reeds will hear.
Next day, the barber went down to the river, to a very lonely spot on the river bank. He checked, there was no-one else around. The barber knelt down amongst the reeds and hummed a little ditty, to a popular tune: The king wears a wig on the top of his head, Under all of that hair he's as bald as an egg !
At last, the barber had spoken his amazing secret. No-one heard it but at last it had been spoken. The barber felt an enormous relief. He was able to go back to work, with absolutely no worry about this amazing secret. He had satisfied his urge to gossip -- but without risking the loss of his own head.
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And on Monday (if I remember correctly) I posted my worries to this blog. I immediately felt better, my oh-so-serious (to me :-) worries had finally been spoken aloud. Or, at least, typed. I could relax at last.
Tuesday, I felt very well. Emotionally. Wednesday -- today -- I am free of worry. Sure, the future involves exactly the same likelihood of doom and gloom. But it doesn't drag me down.
Monday, waiting for my next scan was a worry, a threat which really spoilt my day. Today, waiting for my next scan is simply... waiting for my next scan. Good results or bad, it won't help to worry about it.
I had an excellent day -- I was in an excellent mood -- minding the grandson. Which worked well, since Deb had a relapse of her latest cold and needed to take it easy.
Posting to this blog -- does it again :-)
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Oh, there was more to that barber story. It's forty years since I read it, the facts have faded but the end result is clear:
A wandering musician passed by the river. He made a flute from one of the reeds that had heard the barber's story. Whenever the musician played on the flute -- and he played all over the kingdom -- the reed flute would always play, The king wears a wig on the top of his head, Under all of that hair he's as bald as an egg !
Of course that ending has no relevance to me and my blog. All of my posts are just between me and my keyboard. There are no pesky reeds around here :-)
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It's not just worries that occupy my mind, that won't let me rest till they are posted. Sometimes it's an idea -- and the way in which I could *express* that idea.
The idea that a worry -- or gossip -- may be dealt with by being shared where it will not (or should not or need not) go any further, is as old as Aesop.
And it still works.
Dr Nick Lethbridge / Consulting Dexitroboper
... Agamedes Consulting / Problems ? Solved
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"When it comes to ideas, some people will stop at nothing." … per Ginger Meggs
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