...because I never believe only one truth for more than half a second at a time, and because I have now put the last posting where it belongs, behind me:
Story the First.
There were once two people who, upon coming together, saw they had more joy and more life in them than they needed between two people. They decided that instead of hoarding this joy, since there was so much of it, that they would go and share it amidst the people they found.
They gave freely at first, but as time went on they found that they were not recieving as much joy from the worlf as they had from each other. This didn't concern them so much at first, until one day they found their store of joy was gone. They had no joy left to give each other at all, and little enough for themselves.
They did not want to be without the abundance of joy they had first felt, and so they made a pact with each other: if either of them were in the least wanting, they would give no more away to those without. If their store of joy declined, they would close the doors to those who took what they offered for granted, and the thing they had together, their shared abundance, would be unblemished and undiminished.
When those who had recieved joy from them until that time came clamouring to their door and were turned back there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth outside their home in the dangerous streets. The couple was sad at this, but they were steadfast in their decision. "You should find your own font of joy," they said, "we never promised to fulfill you, only to give you our excess. We will not sacrifice this lovely thing we have made together for you, though should we overflow again you may again have our excess."
And so it was.
Story the Second.
One day a man was walking along the shore. He found a huge shell, all coiled about itself in a glimmer of irridescent hues and secret chambers. In wonder he picked this shell up and began to carry it home. Along the way he found a piece of green sea-glass, turned by the waves and brilliant beneath the caress of the ocean. this too he picked up, intending to being both objects to decorate his home. As he walked, however, both objects grew heavy with the long journey and though he tried with all his strength to hold them they began to drop from his weary hands. At length, heartsick, he found that he was chipping the glass and cracking the shell when fatigue pulled them again and again to the stones of the beach below. Laying the glass aside, he said sadly, "some other who can carry this burden will find you, and you will not go unloved. For now I have made my choice, and I am richer for your memory."
And he went home and put the shell on his mantlepiece, and he polished off the nicks and cracks, and it was as he had said.
That's all.
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