The Parable of the Royal Storyteller and the Royal Scribe

One day while teaching, Josh was asked, ”Teacher, what is the most powerful lesson you have learned in your travels?”

Josh spoke thus:

A royal storyteller was staring at a wall.

“What are you looking at?” the royal scribe asked the royal storyteller.

“I’m staring at the the wall,” the royal storyteller said.

“What’s on the wall?” the royal scribe asked.

“Nothing’s on the wall,” the royal storyteller said.

“Then why are you staring at the wall?” the royal scribe asked, “What’s so special about that wall?”

“There’s nothing special about it,” the royal storyteller said, “It’s a wall.”

“Is it a metaphor for something?” the royal scribe asked.

“It’s not a metaphor for anything,” the royal storyteller said, “It’s a wall.”

“Do you have writer’s block?” the royal scribe asked, “Is staring at the wall a technique for overcoming writer’s block?  Do you envisage stories on the wall, like a giant tapestry on which you weave your tales, from which you extract your sagas?”

“It’s not a technique,” the royal storyteller said, “It’s a wall.  I’m staring at the wall.”

“Are you studying it for some architectural reason?” the royal scribe asked, “Is there something in that wall that is they key to a mystery?  Is it the answer to a riddle?”

“It’s not a key,” the royal storyteller said, “And it’s not a riddle.  It’s a wall.”

“You have to work with me here,” the royal scribe said, “You have to give me something to write.  The monarch will be here any minute now, and the monarch will be expecting a tale, a poem, a saga, a riddle, something.  I’m a scribe!  I need to scribe!  What is on that wall?”

“Nothing’s on that wall,” the royal storyteller said, “It’s a wall.”

“I’m not taking the fall for you!” the royal scribe said, “When the monarch arrives, I’m telling the monarch it’s your fault.  You’re not making tales.  You’re not composing odes.  You’re staring at a wall.”

“I am,” the royal storyteller said, “I am staring at a wall.”

“Here comes the monarch!” the royal scribe said.  The monarch entered.

“Hallo!” the monarch said to the storyteller, “What is this you’re doing?”

“He’s staring at that wall!” the scribe said, “He’s not writing, he’s not composing, he’s not constructing metaphors!  He’s staring at the wall!  It’s him, it’s all him!  He’s just staring.”

The monarch joined the storyteller, looking at the wall.

“Are you staring at the wall?” the monarch asked the royal storyteller.

“I am,” the royal storyteller said, “I’m staring at the wall.”

“May I join you?” the monarch asked.  The royal storyteller nodded.

“See?” the royal scribe said, “He’s just staring at the wall!  I told him to write something!  I told him to compose!  But he just stared!  I came to write, but he just stared!  He just...”

“Hush,” the monarch said.  The monarch and the storyteller stared at the wall.

“It’s not my fault,” the royal scribe said, “I wanted to scribe!  I wanted to...”

“Hush,” the monarch said.  The monarch and the storyteller stared at the wall.

“All I need is for him to tell me what to scribe,” the scribe said, “All I need...”

“Hush,” the monarch said.  The monarch and the storyteller and the scribe stared at the wall.

The monarch and the storyteller and the scribe stared at the wall.

The monarch and the storyteller and the scribe stared at the wall.