Wonderful story, Bjorn !
But you were wrong about the ending, because after the archaeologists
had left, the long haired guy dressed in black gazed into his pint, sighed,
and muttered something into his beer " you can take horses to water, but
you can't make them drink", and he was just about to go home in a rather
depressed mood, when a sinister figure who had been lurking in the shadows
walked over and asked "Like a pint, mate ?"
So they struck up a conversation that went something like this :
-"So you think the past is a metaphysical illusion, do you ?"
-"Yup, I just explained to those archaeologists, but they didn't really get it "
The mysterious stranger leaned back in his chair, stroked his stubbly chin,
presenting an impression of deep serious thought for a few moments, and replied :
-"But you see, it is very difficult for them to understand you. All their lives,
since they were toddlers, they have been told that the world is like this and
like that. Now, you and I know that most of what they believe is wrong, an
illusion. But they exist inside that bubble of illusion. The ideas you told them
don't fit their model. You see, if they really thought hard about the past as an
illusion, they might have to take a critical look at a whole heap of their other
cherished beliefs. Who knows, they might discover that their very concept of
themselves is equally illusory, and just like the wagon you mentioned, if taken
apart, leads to the discovery of a similar emptiness."
The postmodernist had become slightly pale. There was a trace of anxiety
in his voice, " You mean I'm just an illusion ? You're trying to tell me that I
don't exist ? You're crazy !"
-"Not quite that " drawled the stranger "There is indeed something, but it's not
what you think it is ".
- " What the heck is it then ?"
The peculiar stranger bent forward, angled his head, as if listening very closely to
something coming from beneath the table, rapped his knuckles upon the wooden table
top, quite gently but sharply, with the kind of rhythmic sequence people often use when
they knock at the front door of a house, the opening phrase by Beethoven that was used
in WWII radio broadcasts to represent 'London calling'. Dot dot dot dash,dot dot dot dash.
He gazed deeply into the eyes of the other, with an expression showing infinite tender
kindness, grinned very broadly, but remained silent.
The postmodernist stood up,looking alarmed and in a tone which trembled slightly, said
"You're just too crazy. I'm going home."
Chris.
http://easyweb.easynet.co.uk/~chrislees/tao.index.html
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