The Wealthy Man and His Truth.

There was once a wealthy man who had nothing. So great was his nothing, that it amounted to the contents of a small wooden box. You see, this wasn’t an ordinary nothing. In fact, it was a very rare something. And so precious to this man was his something, that it was his everything.

So you see, he was a very wealthy man indeed. And so prized was his particular possession, that he thought he had better put it somewhere safe. While most people can’t carry their everything around with them, this man could. He fashioned for it a little wooden box, laid it inside and carried it with him wherever he did go.

He often gazed upon the contents of the box, spending hours marveling at it, wondering how such a great fortune ever befell him.

Sometimes he showed others his special little box and its hidden contents, for the wealthy man hoped they would take something from his everything. And perhaps one day, they’d have an everything too!

But not everyone understood the man and his wooden box, for that was all they saw. Some laughed, some pitied and some silently congratulated themselves on not being like him. But these were all the jibes of poor men and fools. For only a fool laughs at what he does not understand.

Others delighted in the wealthy man’s treasure and even got out their own modest boxes to show him.

Perhaps you’re wondering what makes the wealthy man so wealthy that his treasure could be contained to a single wooden box? What could make the wealthy man so wealthy that the poor would not envy?

Well, it is a small thing. Or a big thing confined to a rather small word. Though it is extremely weighty yet light as feathers to carry. Have you solved my riddle? Fear not, I shall reveal it to you.

The wealthy man’s everything was called Truth.

Now, hold on, don’t laugh. I know everyone has a Truth nowadays. They are all the rage I hear. But the wealthy man did not have his truth or her truth or their truth. He had the Truth.

Let me remind you of the difference lest you forget. The very nature of a Truth for the common man is that you are able to possess it. But if you possess the Truth, then you do not possess it at all. Rather, it possesses you.

And that, my friend, is what makes a wealthy man with nothing. Except, of course, his everything.

Now that you’ve grasped that, we can move on with our story.

One day, the wealthy man was travelling—he travelled a lot, you see. You’ll find one can travel quite a lot when their only possession possesses them and it weighs as light as feathers. (I knew you’d get the hang of it) –and he passed a travelling salesman.

He had a lot of nothing to sell.

“You seem to be a wealthy sort of man.”

“Well, yes,” said they wealthy man, “in fact, I am.”

“Ah,” said the salesman, “then would you like to buy this pretty pair of spectacles that would complement your eye?”

“No,” said the wealthy man, “I have everything I need. And if that’s all you’ve got today, I think I’ll take my leave.”

“Wait,” said the salesman, “I’ve something more to sell. How would you like to be a King? I think it would suit you well.”

“Oh my,” said the wealthy man, “that’s really quite a lot. But I have everything I need, I think you have forgot.”

“I see,” said the salesman. “But you still live under weighty laws. Would not you rather rule the earth and then all this could be yours?”

“Hmm,” said the wealthy man, “that is a lot you offer. But I don’t need a kingdom to rule or gold to fill my coffers.”

“Alright,” said the salesman. “I see you’re not persuaded. But might I ask, what’s in that box you clutch so tightly to yourself?”

“Wait!” said the wealthy man, “that didn’t rhyme. But since I wish to show you anyway, I’ll let you off this time.”

And so the wealthy man revealed to the salesman his everything. The Truth. The salesman lent back and pondered what he’d seen.

“You’re right,” he said at last. “You’re a wealthy man, indeed. But I notice it’s not really yours. It seems to possess you!”

“It’s true,” the wealthy man replied.

“Oh, that’s not good. No, not at all. You have to own your Truth. Can’t let it wonder off, you see.”

“No, that would be uncouth.”

“And certainly it should weigh more than that. A good Truth is a heavy thing.”

“Oh yes, then I shall need one, but whatever shall I bring? I have no money though I know I seem as wealthy as a king.”

“No need to worry, this here will do.”

“Now hold on a second, you want my Truth!”

“Well, it’s not really yours and it’s not really true.”

“Yes,” said the man. “I should be thanking you.”

“Oh it’s nothing, really nothing. Now which would you like?”

“I should have a look at all of them. I’d hate to be impolite.”

And so the wealthy man gave his everything up for a little bit of nothing in return.

“Take a look at this one. It’s excellent and grand. You’d never be mocked again, you see!”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Or how about this fetching one, it’s grown popular of late. You’d fit right in with all your friends.”

“At last! To be free of deep debate!”

“Perhaps you’d like one more refined. Specific to your taste. This one here’s original.”

“I’d hate it to go to waste!”

“So you see, there’s more to Truth than meets the eye. Why don’t you try on this for size.”

The salesman presented the man with a box, far greater than what he first had carried. And in the box there lay a cloak of sapphire and olive and crimson and buttercup and stone and coal. Every which way the material flickered a new colour was to be discovered.

Our traveler wrapped the garment around himself and watched the patterns change and shift depending on where he went and what he thought and who he was with. What a remarkable Truth indeed. His Truth.

“You’ll find it True in every situation. Yes, that suits you very well. Now, please hand over that little box to sell.”

“Oh yes, I must. Here you go. I really hate to part with it though.”

“You’ll soon forget,” the salesman said. “It wasn’t much of anything anyway.”

“I suppose you’re right, it was far to light. And now I must be on my way.”

“Of course. Good day,” he heard the salesman say and waved back as he walked away.

Throughout the course of passing days, wealthy man that the township knew returned much changed. It wasn’t hard to notice as the man was well renowned for that little box he carried under his arm. But instead of the box, he bore a cloak that shimmered every colour known to man, and some even we cannot see. He became much more agreeable to the townsfolk. Not quite so wealthy and not quite so gentle. He became like them and so they soon forgot he ever was that wealthy man with nothing to his name.

Now, a different story goes, and the other is but some forgotten fable.

There once was a poor man who had nothing because he believed too much in everything. To him, His Truth was anything and so he lost it all. He lost his comfort and he lost his peace. He lost his wisdom and his hope. He gained the world but lost himself to it. And that little box would wait for him until he searched for it again.

Until he remembered his days of youth, he remained the Man of empty Truths.