Always Look Eye

There was a book I read years ago.

I cannot remember the name of the book or its author.

A shame.

But I remember it's beginning/preface/intro.

Whatever you call it.

There's a little shack in the middle of nowhere.

And this knock at the door.

And the old man inside shouts, "What do you want?"

And the knocker politely says, "Sorry to bother you, but I'm looking for the master."

And the old man retorts, "There is no master here. Go away."

It's written more eloquently and evocatively than that.

But the idea always stuck with me.

How the old man didn't want to open the door.

How the knocker was searching for wisdom.

How the old man didn't want to give it.

And it's sort of a trope.

Some wisdom is hard won.

And those who have won it wear it like battle scars.

Either they share it proudly or hide it securely.

And those who seek it have to keep trying.

The old man is a good one, but he's been burned before.

Many, many times.

There's a lot of old masters hanging it up, I think.

Never to be seen again.

I understand why.

But it's a little sad.

So much left to give.

Nothing left to want to.

Now go away.

No old man here.

Come back tomorrow.