TO WANT TO KNOW THE TRUTH: A SHORT STORY

I

Once upon a time, on a rock, there sat a man who wanted to know the truth. The rock was in the shade of an old olive tree, by the side of a dusty path. And the man who wanted to know the truth was resting there, because he had been walking for a very, very long time.

The man was clothed in rags, and various species of insect nested comfortably in his ample beard. As a young man he had wanted to know the truth - because (his young mind had reasoned) if he knew the truth, then he could be true. So one Spring Equinox he had left the farm where he had been a boy, and set out on a pilgrimage - with only a bag of raisins in his pocket, a woollen blanket for the night, and not a single coin.

His parents and brother and sister had watched as he had walked through the farm gate. “Stay here and plough the fields with your father!” his father had beseeched him. “Stay here and give me grandchildren!” his mother had beseeched him. “Don´t be long!” his sister had called out, with tears in her eyes. “Bring us back lots of truth!” his brother had called out, happily - although he was only three, and only had an intuitive grasp of the concept. “I´ll be back by next Equinox!” he had called back but, of course, he had never returned.

He had looked under rocks for the truth. He had pulled back the moss. He had looked inside trees for the truth. He had pulled away the bark. He had listened to the discourses of the dragon flies, and attended the conferences of the frogs. And the only humans whose wisdom made any sense to him were the ones who said “finally, young man, you will know you do not know” - but that, he felt, wasn´t much help at all.

“I don´t want to plough the fields like my father – I feel called to something higher” he had told enlightened minstrels, wise beggars and hermits in their caves, but they had only replied with riddles - like “which is higher: the very tall cherry tree, or the very small oak? Whose eyes shine the brightest: the eyes of the fox, or the eyes of the mole? Is it better to be a baker, or eat bread and cheese? Can anything exist outside of everything?”, and so on. “Either they know the truth and they don´t want to tell me, or they just don´t know it” his proud and passionate mind had reasoned – and on he had walked...

II

Throughout this pilgrimage the man who wanted to know the truth was accompanied by his Guardian Angel. Well, obviously, after all - he wouldn´t have been much of a Guardian Angel if he´d stayed on the farm!

Like yours and like mine, his Angel was not visible or audible. Nor could it be tasted or smelled. In fact, his Angel was nothing but Love – and fully, empathically understood that the man wanted to know the truth because he felt that only then could he be true.

The two of them rarely met others, but on the sunny day of our tale - as the Angel guarded the body and soul of his very own, beloved, bearded, ragged human - another pilgrim approached along the dusty path. This second pilgrim got closer, and closer, and finally asked “would it disturb you, good sir, if I sat down beside you, on this rock in the shade of this old olive tree – for I have been walking for a very long time?” He was much younger – but he too wore rags, and he too gave insects a home in his beard. “You are most welcome. Please, sit, rest” said the older pilgrim - and he sliced an apple with a sharp, thin stone, and gave his new friend half. “You are too kind” said the younger pilgrim, and the two of them began to chat.

“I am traveling to the Land of Truth" said the younger pilgrim, somewhat grandly. “I am not like those fools who never ask where we are, or why we are here” he said, without apologising for his brutal judgement upon the majority of humanity. “And I don´t care that my family think me a fool!” “My parents called me a fool too, when I left home – many years ago” replied the older pilgrim.

The Guardian Angel of the younger pilgrim smiled at the Guardian Angel of the older pilgrim - as if to say “well it looks as if we have twins here! Like yours, my human also rejects sowing and harvesting, and buying and selling, and woodwork and weaving – as being ´lower´. Like yours, he also feels the pursuit of truth is somehow´higher´”. And the Guardian Angel of the older pilgrim smiled back, as if to say “it does indeed seem to be so!” And the two Angels also became friends, and also began to chat.

“What puzzles me” said the younger pilgrim´s Guardian Angel, “is why souls like these would want to leave The World in which The Truth is Visible to come here to The Earth World with the precise intention of being veiled, of having Truth temporarily concealed, of letting themselves be enchanted by a world of illusions - and then spend their entire lives fighting it, attempting to break through the veil, begging Truth to reveal itself, determined awaken from the enchantment of illusion.” “I see, I see” replied the Guardian Angel of the older pilgrim, “I see how you see a contradiction. I see how you find it so puzzling. I myself see it as a life-journey like any other”.

III

Now... why what happened next happened - I do not know. I do not know why the laws of nature were temporarily suspended, and why suddenly the two ragged pilgrims were able to hear their two Guardian Angels. But that is exactly what happened. The two pilgrims heard every word of their angelic conversation.

“Oh my goodness” cried the younger pilgrim, “we´ve done it all wrong! We´ve had it all back to front! We thought we were seeking Truth, we thought we were seeking to align our lives with the Flow of the Universe – and yet we have been living in opposition. We have spent our lives fighting reality! We thought materialistic people had turned their back on The Truth - and yet it was us who were refusing to surrender. Oh how deluded and arrogant we have been! Oh woe are we! Oh woe, oh woe, oh woe” he wailed, and he fell to the dusty ground sobbing.

The two Guardian Angels were as surprised as the two pilgrims, and they too fell to their knees. But their were not crying tears of pain, they were crying tears of joy - for they knew themselves to be in the Presence of Miracle. That both human beings could hear both Angels – this was miraculous! And that was what was happening! They had heard tales of thousands of Angels accompanying thousands of humans through thousands of incarnations - but they had never heard of anything like this! They knew the two pilgrims had been blessed.

“So now you can both hear us?” the Guardian Angels asked the older pilgrim, who remained seated beneath the olive tree. “We can” he said very, very softly – for he was not distressed. He was feeling a tenderness he had never known before. “Have you always been here, with us?” he asked. “We have” the Guardian Angels replied. And he felt his chest so full of gratitude he could barely stay in his body.

“Rise” the Guardian Angels instructed the younger pilgrim. And he stood up, awkwardly, humbly, sniffling, drying his wet cheeks with his sleeves – also, now, gradually becoming aware of the Presence of Miracle. “You have misunderstood” the Angels explained, “there is nothing wrong with the life you have chosen. It might puzzle some Angels, but that doesn´t mean you have made a mistake. The Path of Truth is a perfectly valid path. You have followed your own natures, just as every human being follows their nature. Your arrogance has been to think that any chosen path is better than any other. Your only arrogance had been to think that to be interested in the Truth is better than to not be interested in the Truth.” And two pilgrims were overcome by an unfamiliar sense of freedom. They too were overcome by miracle.

POSTSCRIPT

A month passed and the two pilgrims and the two Guardian Angels became great friends – telling each other jokes and stories, as they walked the dusty country lanes. "So I could have lived my life on the farm with my family, and ploughed the fields with my father, and taken a wife - and sought Truth at the same time?" the older pilgrim asked, one day, slightly sadly. "Yes, of course" his Guardian Angel replied,"but that was not in your nature - your nature is more extreme – and it is in their extreme forms that things and ideas are most clearly seen and understood - which is why you were chosen for this story!"

*

Mark Josephs,

"Mark the Mystic Activist",

Aragon, Spain,

Spring 2026

"I feel The Conscious Tribes Movement carries something beautiful,

 profound, powerful and important.

I try to convey this in my articles, stories and poetry."

www.tribusconscientes.com

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