THE MAN FROM NEVERGO
By
A human being is a part of the whole called by us universe,
a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his
thoughts and feeling as something separated from the rest,
a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion
is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires
and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task
must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our
circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures
and the whole of nature in its beauty.
Albert Einstein
A religious man is a person who holds God and man in
one thought at one time, at all times, who suffers harm
done to others, whose greatest passion is compassion, whose
greatest strength is love and defiance of despair.
Abraham Joshua Heschel
An individual has not started living until he can rise above
the narrow confines of his individualistic concerns to the
broader concerns of all humanity.
Martin Luther King, Jr.
Beware...
The concept for the story of the man from Nevergo is not
a new story, but it is unfortunately one that is seldom
heard, told, revisted, or re-lived. Written as I returned
from the ravaged area of
Katrina, this story dripped from my pen with ease as I had
just undergone the most drastic change in my life.
While our hero is found in a land far from here, his home
may be the same that we call home; an apathetic world of
self-indulgence and inward focus.
This is not a children’s story, yet the simplicity of it all
compels us to perhaps take on a new childlike innocense
and see the world with a new perspective.
Read on, but be aware; while devoid of what our world
deems requirements for a good story such as violence, sex
and intrigue, this story holds far more than you can imagine
such a short story could...
Within the lines lurks a challenge that may perhaps grip
your heart and cause you to desire change.
____________
There once was a man of heart.
He lived in the village of
village in the heart of a poverty-stricken
area near the desert.
One day, the man heard news of a large city by the sea. The city was
called Ignorance, and was known to be the richest and most beautiful
city in the world. According to the news, the city of
attacked by a terrorists from a far-a-way land called Apathy.
The man went to his village leaders and told them of Ignorance’s plight,
but the leaders of Nevergo told the man that it was not the worry of a
small poverty-stricken village to care about those in Ignorance.
The man set out to rescue the city under siege with nothing but a bicycle
and a backpack of supplies. It was to be a long haul, for the only way
to the city of
with obstacles.
The man had never ridden his bicycle over a mountain before, in fact,
his only rides had been on flat ground or over small hills. While it was a
very beautiful and well-built bicycle, it was not really even meant for
such an arduous journey.
The man’s health had failed him many years before, and the bicycle had
been given to him by his father as a means of getting back into good
health. The plan had worked, for the man had ridden faithfully, actually
creating a small business where he would run errands on his bicycle for
the people in his village that had no bicycles.
After telling his closest friends of the city under siege, he had packed his
backpack with a few days of food, some water, bandages and a tire
patch kit.
As the man rode up the mountain, he got stronger, his legs became like
tree trunks! Despite the pain and aches, the man continued, over rocks,
through small crevices, and even through snow and severe thunderstorms.
Along the way, the man encountered others on the mountain; they were
on their own quests, and had never heard of the city under siege. The
other travelers listened to his vision to rescue them, and, as they could,
gave to him from their own supplies. Some gave food, some water.
Others even shared weapons, ammunition and building materials.
The man was grateful, but the backpack had now become an immense
pile upon his back, and travel was more difficult. The air was thinner up
on the mountain, and the man found that he had to stop more often.
“I wonder if I should throw all of these gifts away?” wondered the man.
“Surely my trip would be easier if I did not have this burden upon my
back!”
It was a thought that only lasted moments, for he realized that the gifts
he had received would be needed when he reached the city under siege.
And so he continued.
It was more than halfway up the mountain that the man stopped to catch
his breath when he noticed a small road running up the side of the
mountain. The man had never seen the road before as it had been
obscured by bushes and branches. Here, on the higher side of the
mountain, the scraggly brush barely covered the road, and it was quite
visible. This road had been there all along! He could have been on it!
As he walked over to investigate, a voice called from the thickest of the
brush.
“What are you looking at?” said the voice.
Startled, the man answered, “This small road running up the mountain
appears to run parallel to my own path, yet is much smoother than my
own path!”
A large, powerful-looking figure stepped from the brush. He was quite
But the work tired the weary traveler, and he had to stop even more
often under the weight of his pack and the workload of peddling his
bicycle and clearing the road.
It seemed like years, but was only a few months when the man could
see the summit. Excited, the man re-packed his load, but when he went
to lift it, found that he had no strength to place it on his back where it
had been all these long miles.
“I am tired,” said the man, “But I cannot leave this all here. I am close
enough now, if I can get to the summit, I can coast all the way to the
city.”
But when the man went to lift the pack, he could not. His legs no longer
worked! Fatigue had finally taken its toll…
“What will I do?” cried the man. “I will never get to the city, they will
never get my supplies, and they will never find the road of escape!”
And the man cried.
It could have been minutes and it could have been hours. The man cried
so hard, time stood still on the side of the mountain… just one mile from
the summit. Suddenly, the man felt a hand on his shoulder, and he raised
his tired head to see the silhouette of small elf-like man standing next to
him.
“My name is Hearten,” said the little man. “I come from a small tribe of
little people that live here near the summit of the mountain. Why do you
weep?”
The bicyclist shared his story, his vision, and the tale of the road of
escape.
“I wish I had met you before you left” said the Hearten. “I care about
such things, and will assist you in your journey.
Tired, hungry and depressed, the bicyclist almost laughed. Surely this
little man could never hoist his load nor carry him on the rest of his
journey, but even as this thought entered his mind, Hearten put two
fingers in his mouth and the loudest shrill whistle came out and echoed
across the mountainside.
Suddenly, the tired rescuer was surrounded by no less than 50 of these
little people, all chattering loudly. Hearten, in a language the man had
never heard, explained the story to his friends and family, and no sooner
had they all nodded in understanding, did they pick up the man, the
large pack, and his bicycle.
The city of
but with the help of Hearten and his tribe, the city was evacuated and
the road of escape was used to bring those in Ignorance to safety. Over
a period of time, the refugees from Ignorance settled in a lush valley
near Nevergo and with the help of Hearten and his people built a new
city and named it Neveragain.
Often times, especially times of disaster, we see a problem so large that we think we cannot help because we are too small. Use this story as a discussion starter with your children.
The man was from what town? What do we know of the town from its name?
What do we know of the city he was heading to from its name?
Is there a lesson in this story? Perhaps more than one?
How could we be the man on the bicycle when the next disaster strikes?
Could it be that we are supposed to be Hearten?
