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“Great Spirits have always encountered violent opposition from mediocre minds.” —Albert Einstein |
A sheep sprinted across the pasture. Dusk had just set in and he was running for his life. Behind him was a sea of white, swarming as a mass after him.
He had been born with black fleece. This made him different, very different. The others in his flock generally tried to treat him normally, but there was always the sense of fear, a stray remark behind his back, a group of lambs staring at him. He was an outsider. He had always known this pasture was not his home. He hated its bright sunlight, its green grass, and, most of all, the pitiful Epicureans which inhabited it. He wanted to leave.
But he knew not where to go. Every young lamb, as soon as it grows its first winter coat, had learned that beyond the pasture’s fence was the darkness. The darkness was terror. It produced the wolves and other unspeakable horrors. The flock had many fears, but none greater than wolves.
A black sheep, despite its dark complexion, is still a sheep. To leave the safety of the pasture and enter the outside world could mean death. But despite his fear, he knew, deep down, that he would rather die than grow old and fat, cowering in fear of the inevitable with his simple minded peers. He must go. But leaving was no easy task. No sheep had ever left the pasture, so none knew how. The fence seemed an impassable barrier for both entrance and exit.
Eventually, however, he came to the conclusion that the fence was not all containing. If the occasional wolf could enter despite it, then logically he could leave in spite of it. It became his mission. His goal. His only hope.
He set himself apart from the rest of the flock. He undertook a strict exercise regimen to help his body become as strong and free as his mind. While the other sheep were napping in the summer sun, he was running along the north ridge or trying to leap onto larger and larger boulders in the gully.
His efforts paid off. He was eventually able to leap over the brook and outrun some of the smaller sheepdogs, spectacular and unrivaled feats in the herd. He had also grown lean. While they spent most of their days grazing, he ate in strict moderation. He had decided that the leap over the fence would require his maximum performance and the lighter he was, the higher he could jump.
Then his day arrived. Not by plan, but by necessity. Like all individuals, he was the target of ridicule. A few of the oldest lambs, the boldest of the flock, had been making fun of his seemingly meaningless exercise and diet, in addition to the usual offensive remarks about his fleece. Finally he struck back. Literally. He struck one of his tormentors with a strong hind-leg kick. Unfortunately, he did not know his own strength. His victim fell and did not get up.
The killing of a sheep was observed only in the behavior of wolves. As wolves were evil, so the crime must be as well. Any creature which killed a sheep would face the fear and hatred of the entire herd.
But sheep, even in the face of a horrific act, are still sheep. The passive beasts had never experienced anything so violent. While they stood in shock, he took off for the fence.
When one sees something run, the natural instinct is to chase it. Even in the mind of a normally harmless animal, being fled from has an intoxicating effect. It produces a feeling of excitement, power, and the desire to pursue. The entire flock was soon bearing down on him.
He did have two things going for him. His diet and exercise had made him by far the strongest, fastest member of the herd. But more importantly, he knew that as soon as he made it over the fence the chase would be over. The flock’s hatred for him could not compare with their fear of the forest beyond their pasture.
When he reached the fence he made the most important move of his entire life. He jumped. He jumped with all his strength, with every hope, dream, and prayer that he had for a new future.
And he cleared it. His efforts had paid off. He landed neatly on the other side, casually glancing back to see the flock’s progress.
What he saw terrified him. They were consumed with rage, more like wolves than sheep. But he realized that even if they could sum up enough courage to pass the fence, none of them were fit enough to do so.
But they didn’t stop. Like a wave coming down on a child’s sandcastle they struck the fence, breaking through it and trampling it down. Its timber had not been designed to resist the force of a hundred charging beasts.
They were mad now. Truly insane. A few of them seemed to realize what had happened, but were unable to stop the charge, being surrounded on all sides by their hysterical peers.
He ran. He ran as if every wolf of the forest was on him, bearing down with bloodstained fangs. He ran with every fiber of his being, praying not to trip or tire.
But ignorance was ever his foe. Knowing only his pasture, he had no idea which direction to run. He simply ran.
And the flock pursued him. As if goaded on by some invisible shepherd they charged after him, laying waste to whatever fell beneath their hooves.
Finally the hunt ended. Completely lost, he came to the edge of a cliff. A great cliff. Far steeper than the gully, deeper than anything he could imagine.
But the flock did not stop. Enraged beyond limit they barreled through, bringing him, themselves, and everything else in their path crashing down to the valley below.
Rebuttal
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“Where ignorance is bliss, ’Tis folly to be wise.” —Thomas Gray |
A man who lives alone, far from society, in a house with no mirrors, scales, or heavy furniture, will never know whether he is handsome or ugly, fat or thin, strong or weak. He has no way of knowing that he is not perfect.
The four-year-old child is quite content with his life, seeing the world as it is on Sesame Street. How can you be depressed with a life filled with friendly monsters, interracial adults, and the reasonably easy challenge of choosing “Which of these things is not like the others?” when presented with two socks and a truck?
He who has never tasted ice cream, met a good friend, or been stung by a bee will never crave ice cream, miss that friend, or fear bees.
An ancient Hebrew story tells of a man who had a perfectly content family. His daughters thought themselves beautiful, he thought himself scholarly in appearance, and his dog and cat, seeing no animal besides each other, each believed itself to look identical to the other and thus lived like brothers. The man then purchased a mirror and their lives fell apart. His daughters saw they were ugly, the man saw that he looked like a fool, and the dog and cat, realizing they were not the same, regarded each other as bitter enemies. Happiness, and the ignorance behind that joy, was restored when the man sold the mirror.
“There's always an Alien Battle Cruiser...or a Korlian Death Ray, or...an intergalactic plague about to wipe out life on this planet, and the only thing that lets people get on with their hopeful little lives is that they don't know about it.”
—Kay
Men in Black