THE PILGRIM’S TROPHIES
As the hot sun mercilessly shone down on him, the pilgrim takes a break from lugging his heavy load and sits on a large stone to get some rest. He hauls his three large bags on to the space beside him and surveys his treasures.
The first bag is filled with gold and silver, painstakingly acquired through his many endeavors.
“No one can call me poor any longer”, he muses.
He recalls the time when he started this journey some thirty years previously, as he turned a teenager and embarked on the journey of life- to make sense of his life, to accumulate stuff and to achieve. He had practically nothing with him. Others with ‘stuff’ acquired through years of wandering despised him. No longer. His bags were bigger and bulkier than most. He had made it and tasted success. He could afford a lot of the pleasures that were on offer on this road, though he knew by now that money could not buy happiness. Perhaps it’s other things that matter________.
He looked at his second bag- the one filled with the trophies that life had handed him along with way. Boy, was he not proud of his accomplishments! Courage and perseverance had gotten him to the summit of many cliffs. A number of sojourners recognized him and appreciated him for having made their lives better. The trophies remained, but the glitter had faded. The exhilaration of success was short-lived. Basking in glory would have been good if it lasted a lifetime, but it does not. And then only memories remain.
Perhaps the third bag is the most important- the one labeled ‘memories’. It sure was the heaviest. He looked into it and sees the prized moments in his life- the highest points, the most significant relationships and the greatest triumphs. He sure has to work hard to keep them alive and glowing, because memory has a way of fading and if memories were to define life, one better find a way to keep them strong. And suddenly the chilling thought fills his mind,
“What if my memories disappear making me worthless?”
And as he sits there on the stone, purveying his treasures, shouts from others on the road fill the air. All eyes including the pilgrim’s, turn to see an impressive man coming down the road. Impressive, because he is pulling along a cart full of bags- surely no mean feat. The pilgrim looks at his own bags that suddenly seem puny by comparison. He looks around to see envy and admiration on the faces of all who behold him. The impressive man feeds off that adulation and glows in the moment. This is his time, his moment, his world!
“How happy he must be”, wonders the pilgrim.
Yet as he passes by, the pilgrim whiffs the air that blows by to reach his nostrils- it is the most unpleasant smell he has ever encountered- one that evokes sorrow, misery and an emptiness that is akin to death.
