There once lived an old farmer atop a mountain carved with terraces. He grew rice and vegetables upon them, trading his surplus for any goods he might require or desire. Though he never left the terraced mountain, he received frequent visitors from the villages and towns below. They came from all over the country because they had heard that he knew the secret to happiness.
The young king, who ruled over this country, also heard rumor of the old farmer with his secret, and he dismissed it as nothing more than a tall tale. He had many diversions: simpering sycophants, jolly jesters, and copious concubines. But as the years wore on, the young king grew increasingly dissatisfied with his life. There was no fawning fanciful enough, no jape jolly enough, no bosom bounteous enough to quiet his nagging malaise.
He sent for word of the secret, but was flummoxed to find that though several people had visited the old farmer and were now living happily, not one knew what the secret actually was. So it was that the young king came to ascend the terraced mountain.
“I am very dissatisfied with my life,” said the young king. “Please tell me, what is the secret to happiness?”
The old farmer asked, “Do you nourish yourself with fruits, vegetables, and plenty of water?”
“No,” scoffed the young king. “I eat meat, bread, butter, and wine! What does this have to do with the secret to happiness?”
The old farmer asked, “Do you work hard from when the Sun awakens until the Moon peeks over the earth?”
“Work? I need not work! My days are spent in the presence of my magistrates who inform me that there is nothing to be done for this ungrateful country. What does this have to do with the secret to happiness?”
The old farmer asked, “Do you sleep from when the Moon awakens until the Sun peeks over the earth?”
Again the young king scoffed at the farmer’s words. “Why, of course not! My nights are spent in the company of comedians and courtesans. I sleep whenever it suits me!” The young king became impatient. “Tell me, old man, what does this have to do with the secret to happiness?!”
The old farmer smiled. “Before I answer that question,” he said, “nourish yourself with fruits, vegetables, and plenty of water. Work from when the Sun awakens until the Moon peeks over the earth. And sleep from when the Moon awakens until the Sun peeks over the earth.” He paused, as if to highlight each sentence he had just spoken. “Do these things each day for 30 days and if you still feel dissatisfied with your life, come back and I will tell you the secret to happiness.”
Just as the young king was about to object, the old farmer turned his attention toward threshing rice grains. The young king descended the terraced mountain, rabid with righteousness. He resolved to return with guards to force the old farmer to reveal his secret or else see him killed. By the time he arrived back at his palace, the sun had sunk beneath the earth and the moon was high in the sky. He was weary from his long trek so he forwent his usual evening of drolls and doxies in order to sleep.
Early the next morning the young king awoke, feeling more refreshed than he had felt in years. He looked out his window and watched as the Sun twinkled on the dark blue-gray horizon before flooding the earth with color. He had not seen such beauty since his childhood and it made him forget his worries. With his mind clear, his thoughts turned toward the old farmer. It couldn’t hurt, the young king thought, to heed his advice for just 1 day.
He called for his servants to prepare a spread of hard-boiled eggs, fresh fruit, and a variety of vegetables. As he ate, he thought about the farmers in the countryside that made his wholesome meal possible. As he dressed, he thought about the shepherds, the tailors, the leather-workers, and the jewelers that made his fine garb possible. As he stepped outside, he thought about the builders, the craftsmen, and the artists that made his plush palace possible.
The young king rode his horse from town to village to town to meet these laborers and was appalled to find them toiling in straits and squalor. Upon his return, he thought about the blacksmith, the husbandman, and the stableboy that made his swift ride possible.
The young king lost his notorious appetite, overcome with guilt and grief at the lot of his people. He sat down to a simple meal of fish and rice, chasing it down with plenty of water. As he retired that night, he dreamt of the cook, the dishwasher, the fisherman–and the old farmer atop the terraced mountain.
The next morning, the Sun swept the young king’s bedroom, and his eyes, of darkness. He set to work right away, planning the laws, the roads, and the trade routes that would better the lives of his people. He worked on this, not for 30 days, but for 30 years. The people were grateful to him, they loved him, and the old king was happy.
*
As the years rolled by, the people’s prosperity grew by leaps and bounds. They hungered ever for more wealth; they thirsted ever for more luxury. And one day, the people became dissatisfied with their lives. They had heard tales of someone living atop the terraced mountain who knew the secret to happiness. But many years had passed, and the old farmer had passed as well.
My favorite of 2014 so far :)
Thanks Alexandra :) I was a little nervous because it was my first attempt at a short-story, but I’m really happy with how it turned out.
i like this story :)
Thanks :)