Years later, facing the gaggle of geese roaming the Mohist City wilds, I would still remember that afternoon w…
Years later, facing the gaggle of geese roaming the Mohist City wilds, I would still remember that afternoon when the pigeon first arrived.
I knew it carried an invitation to the sect feast. But at that moment, should I open the window and let it in, or pretend I never saw it?
"An ill-fortified city cannot defend itself; an unprepared mind cannot face the unexpected." Whenever I face big decisions, I jot down all my tangled thoughts, hoping clarity will come.
Option one:
If I go, the elders will greet me warmly, and fellow disciples will gather around the fire, sharing stories and ambitions. Yet someone will likely challenge me with a tough question. If I respond wisely, it could become a celebrated story; but if I stumble, my reputation may suffer, and I'll be stuck obsessing over it for months.
Option two:
If I skip the feast, the elders will be disappointed, and others might call me arrogant. But I'd have the Aloft Abode to focus on invention. Perhaps I'd find inspiration in solitude and become a master artisan, or maybe I'd lose my way and fail to graduate on time. Also, refusing the invitation might sour future relations with the elders.
Option three:
Caught in the dilemma, I risk losing both the feast and focus on my work. A frustrating limbo. At times like that, I just want to drink alone, hoping a few cups will give me the resolve to decide. Wait... speaking of wine, wouldn't it be divine if a certain pigeon were roasted to go with it?
Maybe the best answer lies somewhere between. The very act of wrestling with the choice is what gives me strength.