In the tiled room at the feet of the Priestess, the Fool became anxious. He knew he was at the beginning of a long arduous journey. The room was vast and infinite and full of mystery. The black and white tiles spread out to the horizon line.
He decided that it was time to get going. He’d sat at the Priestess’s feet for a long time, learning the lessons he needed to learn about the language of existence. The Priestess had shown him the power of numbers.
The Fool looked at his gear. He had his bell that he was supposed to bring back to somebody, a stick that he tied his belongings to, the clothes on his back, and his lotus flower. Not much, but it kept his balance, as his way was to wander the world.
He heard a commotion from out in the expansive room. A man who looked like a younger version of himself was struggling with a large pack and a pile of gear. At the same time, he was also juggling two large coins. Pots and other things were falling off his pack and he would go back and try to pick them up, usually dropping something else in the bargain.
This is you before, the Priestess said. This is before you knew about balance and minimalism.
As the young Fool got closer, the Fool could see that he carried a tall leather pack with cooking pots tied to the sides, a sleeping bag tied to the bottom, and tarps on the top. The pack was bulging with gear. He saw a shovel handle peeking through the pack flap.
The young Fool also wore layers of clothes, and he was sweating. He was wearing a rain jacket and boots, and had straps tied to himself with cups and knives and other utensils strapped to those.
He was also making a huge racket. He would only take a few steps before something fell off. When he would bend down, the top of his pack would open up and things would fall out. The young Fool would then try to pick up this new debris and balance it with the coins he juggled in his hands.
Some would call him a juggler, the Priestess said, with a bite of humor, but he wants to be ready for whatever comes his way. He is scared to adapt.
The young Fool held the two giant coins close to his chest as he walked carefully towards the old Fool and the Priestess. He had the beginning of a beard, and his eyes twinkled with youth. Then a pot fell off and clanged on the tile floor. The young Fool chased it as it bounced around, causing some food containers to slip out and fall to the ground as well.
The noise echoed across the astronomically-sized room. The Fool didn’t know what the sound was echoing off of, but it hurt his ears.
They watched in horror and humor as the young Fool traversed the giant room with all of his stuff. They could hear him dropping things even after he had disappeared over the horizon of black and white tiles.
The Fool became grateful for what little he needed to travel. He always knew he could adapt to whatever environment he found himself in. He would know not to travel to certain places when it wasn’t safe there. Sometimes he would find himself in predicaments, be caught out in the rain, but he knew the rain would stop. And when it did he would just move on and find a new place to rest his wandering bones.