the talker

had lots to talk about, seemed like he knew it all. he could quote this, the bible, the quran, the bhagavad gita, sutras, sartre, kant, locke, jung, adler, freud, aaron t beck, toffler, and i was beginning to wonder if all that learning made him a better man. you see, there was something very odd about his behavior, quite out of sync with these notable folks, teachings, as he left trails, footprints, coarse words, vulgarity, shamelessness, deceit, spit, venom, lewd behavior, the list of who he was as a person was such a stark contrast, and yet he rattled on about higher learning, spirituality, morals, righteousness, i almost felt embarrassed to hear. later on in the day, i met a doer who knew little about mathematics, or science, geography, history, medicine but of the joy of being around him, for his footprints, his actions, his pruning of the weeds, the way he tended his garden, the way he took criticism, the way he dealt with failure, the way he stood the trials of life, with boldness, with humility, with stoicness. i found myself discarding books, learning, discarding all that shiny 30 pieces of silver - the better life. better? or worse? a label stuck on a bright porcelain filled with rot, a dusty cracked vase filled with valuables, not the earthly kind, you know the vain kind, this one runs deep, it reaches the roots, it nourishes, it strengthens, it weeps, it is joy that needs no shouting to be heard.