Asceticism
The man had been groomed to be King since he first came into
this world crying and dazed. From cradle to throne, he had been
pampered, coddled, and given every opportunity that money and
power could deliver.
He liked being King. He thoroughly enjoyed the perks of Royal
Command.
He reveled in the fear and trembling which visibly emanated
from his subjects when they were brought before him for matters of
judgment. He treasured the fact he could buy anything and anyone
whenever a desire trickled across his consciousness. He eagerly
sought out, and participated in, the political intrigues which were
rampant in the Kingdom, taking pride in the way he was able to
forge situations to the shape of his will, as well in the manner which
he consistently outflanked, and, then, crushed, even the most cunning
of opponents.
Life didn’t get any better than this. Moreover, he wanted
everyone to know how powerful, clever, and wealthy he was, so, to
demonstrate his lofty status, he often would do a tour of the country
in which no expense was spared and everything associated with the
tour was full of pomp and pompousness.
In addition, the King would use such occasions to ensure that
everyone knew who was the one who controlled the lives of his
subjects. During these tours, he delighted in, arbitrarily, either
freeing or incarcerating whomever he wished.
As the King approached the conclusion of, yet another,
successful tour, there was just one last town through which to
triumphantly conduct his procession. He decided he would stay the
night at one of his many castles around which such towns grew. In
addition, he wanted to celebrate the end of his tour with a huge,
lavish state dinner to which everyone in the town would be invited
and which they must attend on penalty of imprisonment.
When the evening of the dinner arrived and the people of the
town had assembled, the King began the proceedings by asking his
Royal spies whether, in truth, absolutely everyone in the town was
present. One of his spies announced: “Sire, there is one woman who
refused to come. We warned her she would be dealt with harshly if
she did not attend the festivities but she just laughed at us and
claimed that she did not participate in the assemblies of one who
lived his life in accordance with ascetic principles.”
When the King heard this report, he was infuriated. The
audacity of anyone who would try to lump him in with riff-raft,
beggars, and the poor was almost too ludicrous to contemplate.
He commanded that she be brought into his presence
immediately. Royal guards scrambled from the Dining Hall with as
much speed as they could muster, fearing their master’s displeasure
for not moving quickly enough.
A short while later, a number of guards ushered an old woman,
whose clothes were tattered, into the Hall, and she was marched
barefoot to where the King was sitting upon his throne, dressed in the
most elegant and expensive robes. The woman’s face was lined with
a lifetime of hardship and exposure to the forces of nature, and the
King’s stern countenance was smooth and unwrinkled from a life
free from material concerns.
The King gazed with contempt at the woman. He carefully
inventoried and appraised the woman’s wretched condition.
A smug smile came to his face. “Aha,” he proclaimed, “you are
the person who does not attend the assemblies of those who live in
accordance with ascetic principles.”
The King gave her the once-over again, and, then, he raised his
hand, palm up, and moved it in a way intended to bring attention to
the surroundings. “Does this Hall look like it belongs to an ascetic?”
He extended his raised arm upward, and, then, both pointed with
his fore finger as well as made a circling motion with his hand: “Does
the castle in which this Hall has been built suggest its owner is a
pauper who must scrimp and save to fashion merely a subsistence
level of life?”
He peered at his apparel with a look of arrogance and said: “Do
I, with the clothes that I have on, appear to be those of someone who
must be skilled in the art of bare survival like a common street
urchin?”
He pointed to the men who had brought her in: “Do these guards
surrounding you, who would kill you with one flickering nod of my
eyebrow, seem to be doing the bidding of some common pauper?” he
roared.
“On what basis do you affront and insult the dignity of my Royal
lineage?” He inquired, and, then, he commanded her: “Speak,
woman, I demand answers to my questions. How do you come to the
conclusion that I am a person who lives in accordance with ascetic
principles?”
Calmly and without any sign of trepidation or insecurity due to
her surroundings or the King’s imposing presence before her, she
replied: “Sire,
an ascetic is someone who denies himself or herself and
establishes a pattern of living that conforms to such a principle of
denial in order to achieve her or his ends.”
Impatiently, the King said: “Woman, you are not only poor, you,
obviously , are not in control of your rational faculties. I deny myself
nothing.”
He looked at her in an amused and taunting manner. “Isn’t this
clear to you?”
“Very clear,” responded the woman, and, then she added: “And,
this is precisely why I call you an ascetic.”
This King was totally confused by her remark, and his confusion
fed his anger. His face became flushed with a venomous pallor.
“You imbecile,” he bellowed at the woman. “How can I be an
ascetic when my whole style of being is the antithesis of denial?”
The woman maintained her emotional equilibrium and was not,
in the least, intimidated by the King. She continued on with her
explanation: “Although I agree with you that with respect to this
world, you deny yourself nothing, but in relation to the realm of the
spiritual worlds, your indulgence in the ephemeral things of this
planet while denying yourself the eternal riches which grace the
realm of spirituality, is truly an exercise in great asceticism. I doff my
kerchief to you and bow before your magnificent display of self-
denial,” whereupon she curtsied for the King.
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