LETTER: Seeking Enlightenment
By Graham Kenyon
“Who shall govern the Mountain Kingdom?” said the King, directing his words at the large pile of rocks heaped on what was once a sacred grotto adjacent to the museum.
The Oracle of Delphi often visited here to escape the heat of the Grecian summer. Being something of a free spirit a few rocks didn’t bother her. The King had decided to give the new religion of democracy a try after the natives got a bit restless, but after several years of strife and turmoil he was having second thoughts. You can’t beat a good old-fashioned regal autocracy for getting stuff done without all the squabbling. Henry VIII had the right idea: no messing about; my way or the block.
However, being a kindly and generous monarch he thought he’d check with the Oracle to see what his options might be. “So, who shall govern the Mountain Kingdom?” he repeated.
A distant voice echoed up through the rocks:
“Tell to the king his hallowed hall is not yet in decay;
Fresh warriors shall spend their years so citizens can say
With strength and wisdom they did rule to pave the golden way;
Then fade away as all have done, while most of us just play.”
The usual gibberish, the King thought to himself. Why can’t the woman talk in plain English or Greek or whatever. ‘Pave the golden way’? Could that mean get the finances sorted out; get some gold in the coffers? That’s the biggie for sure. There are some scary bills coming down the pike, and we all know who has to pay. But what’s wrong with a bit of play?
Something has to change for sure. Whoever governs the Mountain Kingdom had better have their act firmly together, together being the operative word. But why not have some fun doing it? That could really change things. The family that plays together stays together and all that. If it were fun, people would be clamouring for the job. That chamber is like a church and about as welcoming. No windows and the atmosphere of a mausoleum. Paint the place. Expand it. Welcome the people. You’re going to need all the help you can get. Bring on the gospel choir!
The King paused in his mental tirade. Was that jazz music echoing up from the rockpile? That’s got to be old Satchmo himself! “He’s got the whole world in his hands; He’s got the whole world in his hands …”
“Now you’re talking,” the King called to the rocks, clicking his fingers to the beat. “Let’s get this Kingdom really rocking!” And off he went, dancing down the road: “He’s got you and me sister in his hands; He’s got you and me brother in his hands …”.
Graham Kenyon
Rossland
