the library

When the country is governed through simplicity and leniency,
the people are genuine and honest.
When the country is governed through harshness and sharp investigation,
the people are more deceitful and dishonest.
From misfortune, good fortune is derived.
In good fortune, misfortune is conceived.
Who can determine the ultimate truth?
Or is there no ultimate truth at all?
As truth often turns out to be untruth,
goodness often turns out to be evil.
This has long confused the people.
Thus, when the wise deals with things he is firm in his principles,
yet not sharp.
He is pure, yet not harmful.
He is straightforward, yet not violent.
He is illuminated, yet not glittery.
-- Chang Chung-yuan, Chapter 58,  Tao Te Ching

Jesus, Lao Tzu, and I were in the library looking at the magazines.

Lao Tzu was scanning "Runner's World."

Jesus was checking out "Scientific American."

I was reading "The Atlantic."

"Jesus," I whispered. "What is the ultimate truth?"

Lao Tzu looked over to see what Jesus would say.

"Check out your body," whispered Jesus. "You have a right side and a left side."

"Yes," I nodded.

"Your spine is in between, neither left nor right, yet both," he said in a soft hush.

I nodded my understanding.

Lao Tzu was no longer absorbed in his magazine.

"On what does your spine sit?" asked Jesus.

"This seat," I said.

"And what is beneath the seat?"

"The floor," I said.

"And beneath the floor?"

"The earth."

"And beneath the earth?"

"Space."

"And beneath space?

"I don't know," I said.

"Exactly!" said Jesus.

Lao Tzu exploded in gales of laughter.

His laughter was contagious and uncontainable.

We whooped and wiped our eyes.

The librarian looked at us and shook her head.

"You gentlemen will have to go outside," she said.

We did. It was a lovely day.