minute is every
man’s equal possession, but what has once gone by is not ours. Our loss,
therefore, is limited to that one fleeting instant, since no one can lose what
is already past, nor yet what is still to come…
“So, for the first two weeks, I
lived in a hut on this hill, all by myself, I didn’t talk to anyone. Not a
soul. I didn’t know where I was, I didn’t know how to leave.”
Mark looked up again from the
book.
“The monks wouldn’t talk to me
and when I talked to them, they just acted like they weren’t hearing anything.
They brought me food and drink every morning and every evening. That’s it.
All I did was stroll in the woods and sleep. I was a bit nervous, but I didn’t
have anywhere else to be, so I sat tight.”
“On the third week, they started
bringing me books with my breakfast, a different one each day, but still no
talking.”
“At the end of the fourth week,
the chief monk comes to see me. He asks me how I feel. Better , I say.
You may leave, he says, and gives me directions to the highway. So I leave,
thumb a ride into town, and I’ve been a Buddhist ever since.”
They are quiet for a moment.
“Wow!” said Chantelle.
“Unbelievable.” Mark said, and he
meant it. He finished reading the last line on the page that was open before
him.
…The sole thing of which any man
can be deprived is the present; since this is all he owns, and nobody can lose
what is not his.
Mark shut the book with a sharp
snap, returned it to Chantelle, and thanked her.
“There are some similarities
between Stoicism and Buddhism,” she said.
“Oh yeah?”
“They both advocate freedom from
earthly desires as a way of achieving true happiness.”
Gus erupted with a gruff laugh.
“And that’s not easy!”
Mark laughed also.
“What?” Gus asked, still
grinning.
“Nothing.”
Chantelle caught sight of her
friends from the college entering the courtyard to take up a table. She waved
strenuously, caught their attention and then motioned that she would join them.
“Well, fellas, it’s been fun,”
she said as she collected her book and coffee mug. “Welcome to town and I hope
you get your copy soon,” she added.
“Thanks, I do too.”
“Nice talking to you Chantelle,
maybe we’ll see you around here again,” said Gus.
Chantelle smiled back over her
shoulder. As she departed from their table and traversed the wooden bridge
clutching the rope railings, Gus winced again.
“Damn! What’s the expression? I
was sorry to see her go but glad to watch her leave?”
Finally, she reached her
destination and Gus turned back toward Mark.
“That was smooth! So this is
this how you operate?”
“What do you mean?”
“All that bullshit about
forgetting the book back home, gift from your uncle…”
“Honestly,” Mark said, “my
grandfather gave me that exact book just before I left.”
“And then that quote, what was
it? Everything is beautiful, the beautiful be praised, or something like
that? She lapped it up like it was fucking cream!”
“I opened it up to a random
page.”
“You can’t bullshit a
bullshitter. That was impressive. I’ll have to remember that one, especially
if I see Chantelle here again.”
Gus peered in the direction of
the marina. A yellow rocket-shaped boat chugged toward the docks.
“Let’s go meet the boss.”
SIX
The meeting with Paulus Cornelius at the oasis had been a brief exchange of
pleasantries and introductions. Gus conveyed Marcus to the Frontinus worksite
and introduced him to a number of his new colleagues, including Primus,
Secundus, and Tertius, names he himself had given them “because their Hispanic
names are too hard to remember and too hard to pronounce.” Marcus quizzed his
new acquaintances about life at a Frontinus outpost. They set to discussing
Gus the moment he stepped out of earshot.
“His real name is Gaius, I
think.”
“No,
man’s equal possession, but what has once gone by is not ours. Our loss,
therefore, is limited to that one fleeting instant, since no one can lose what
is already past, nor yet what is still to come…
“So, for the first two weeks, I
lived in a hut on this hill, all by myself, I didn’t talk to anyone. Not a
soul. I didn’t know where I was, I didn’t know how to leave.”
Mark looked up again from the
book.
“The monks wouldn’t talk to me
and when I talked to them, they just acted like they weren’t hearing anything.
They brought me food and drink every morning and every evening. That’s it.
All I did was stroll in the woods and sleep. I was a bit nervous, but I didn’t
have anywhere else to be, so I sat tight.”
“On the third week, they started
bringing me books with my breakfast, a different one each day, but still no
talking.”
“At the end of the fourth week,
the chief monk comes to see me. He asks me how I feel. Better , I say.
You may leave, he says, and gives me directions to the highway. So I leave,
thumb a ride into town, and I’ve been a Buddhist ever since.”
They are quiet for a moment.
“Wow!” said Chantelle.
“Unbelievable.” Mark said, and he
meant it. He finished reading the last line on the page that was open before
him.
…The sole thing of which any man
can be deprived is the present; since this is all he owns, and nobody can lose
what is not his.
Mark shut the book with a sharp
snap, returned it to Chantelle, and thanked her.
“There are some similarities
between Stoicism and Buddhism,” she said.
“Oh yeah?”
“They both advocate freedom from
earthly desires as a way of achieving true happiness.”
Gus erupted with a gruff laugh.
“And that’s not easy!”
Mark laughed also.
“What?” Gus asked, still
grinning.
“Nothing.”
Chantelle caught sight of her
friends from the college entering the courtyard to take up a table. She waved
strenuously, caught their attention and then motioned that she would join them.
“Well, fellas, it’s been fun,”
she said as she collected her book and coffee mug. “Welcome to town and I hope
you get your copy soon,” she added.
“Thanks, I do too.”
“Nice talking to you Chantelle,
maybe we’ll see you around here again,” said Gus.
Chantelle smiled back over her
shoulder. As she departed from their table and traversed the wooden bridge
clutching the rope railings, Gus winced again.
“Damn! What’s the expression? I
was sorry to see her go but glad to watch her leave?”
Finally, she reached her
destination and Gus turned back toward Mark.
“That was smooth! So this is
this how you operate?”
“What do you mean?”
“All that bullshit about
forgetting the book back home, gift from your uncle…”
“Honestly,” Mark said, “my
grandfather gave me that exact book just before I left.”
“And then that quote, what was
it? Everything is beautiful, the beautiful be praised, or something like
that? She lapped it up like it was fucking cream!”
“I opened it up to a random
page.”
“You can’t bullshit a
bullshitter. That was impressive. I’ll have to remember that one, especially
if I see Chantelle here again.”
Gus peered in the direction of
the marina. A yellow rocket-shaped boat chugged toward the docks.
“Let’s go meet the boss.”
SIX
The meeting with Paulus Cornelius at the oasis had been a brief exchange of
pleasantries and introductions. Gus conveyed Marcus to the Frontinus worksite
and introduced him to a number of his new colleagues, including Primus,
Secundus, and Tertius, names he himself had given them “because their Hispanic
names are too hard to remember and too hard to pronounce.” Marcus quizzed his
new acquaintances about life at a Frontinus outpost. They set to discussing
Gus the moment he stepped out of earshot.
“His real name is Gaius, I
think.”
“No,
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