The more I studied the more I knew. And the more I knew, the more I knew I didn't know (funny how life's ironies seem to accompany the thing we want most). But that didn't quell my determination; rather, it seemed to me that I would discover, through the experience of it all, how to find the best way to this Promised Land. What intrigued me the most was that the records all indicated the presence of a Desert Guide--a benevolent Wanderer sent by God to assist weary travellers in their journey. The prophecies were unfortunately vague and gave no indication at his name or figure--I was thus left only to hope for some Godsent boon if I were indeed to meet such a one as had been spoken.
After years of preparation--both physical, mental, and emotional--and countless hours of diligent study, the dawn of my venturing-forth came (as it is not my intent to focus on my home life, but rather tell the tale of my quest for the pearl, I will spare you the unimportant details). As I rose to the door of our ancestral yurt that morning, I breathed in the scents and emotions of my village life. I would certainly miss the regularity of my childhood, the certainty of shelter and food, and the familiarity and friendship of those whose faces had smiled on my youth. Indeed it would be a perilous journey, each day filled with hardships I could not then comprehend. I would face the unabated brutality of a barren waste, with no respite from wind, sun, and the dangerous creatures of the sands.
Notwithstanding, it was indeed time for me to embark on the journey I knew I was born to take. I gathered my sparse accoutrements (not much more than a traveller's tent, rations, copied portions of the records of the ancients, a knife that belonged to my grandfather's grandfather, and all the hope I could muster), bid my incredulous and reluctant friends and kinsfolk farewell, and set out in search of the treasure I knew with all my heart was waiting for me.
I was on my way.
A JUST 'DESSERT'
1 week ago
