There is a story, Sufi in origin I believe, about a poor farmer who saved for years to afford a horse to help with his farm work. His fellow impoverished villagers were incredibly impressed when the horse arrived and, with just a little bit of jealousy in their tone, observed how good it was that his and his family’s life would improve. Surprisingly to the villagers on hearing this the farmer did not entirely agree, and simply said “Not good, not bad, just is.”
Only a single day passed and the horse somehow managed to run away. Aware of the money invested in this fine animal the villagers were shocked by this turn of events and attempted to console him for his loss. The farmer however once again said nothing more than the simple statement, “Not good, not bad, just is.”
A couple of days later the horse returned with another horse following, which remaining unclaimed, became the farmer’s property. The villagers could not believe this farmer’s good fortune. Once more the farmer simply assured all those he spoke to with, “Not good, not bad, just is.”
Just a few more days passed and the farmer’s son fell off the horse and broke his leg – preventing him from helping to bring in the harvest. Who would have seen that coming, thought the villagers, what bad luck! The farmer of course simply stated his perspective, “Not good. Not bad. Just is.”
The very next day, the army recruiters came to town, drafting every young man from the village, except the son of the farmer – who, of course, could not walk as he had just broken his leg …
It has to be said however that there is a difference in hearing a fictional parable with a lesson to share and understanding the point being made on an intellectual level, and, on the other hand, actually integrating that learning into one’s own life. Fortunately, in my case, I was given the opportunity to do so, and not over a number of days, but over a couple of hours. What follows is a true story. Note also that I am not saying, “a true story”, in the Hollywood sense of “based on a true story". All of the following happened exactly as described. I will allow the reader to interpolate “Not good. Not bad. Just is” as they read along, at the appropriate junctures.
Many years ago I travelled overland to India. Along the way I found myself in Eastern Turkey about to board a bus to the Iranian border. Apart from the fact that we all knew there was an upcoming Iranian revolution at the time, what was really bad was that I had an exceedingly dire case of diarrhoea. Although I did not know exactly how long the bus journey was going to be, I suspected it would be at least an hour, and possibly a lot longer. The good news was that I manged to get hold of some loperamide to control the diarrhoea. We set off towards the border post. I should add that I was travelling at this point with some English guys that I had met in Istanbul making the same trip. One hour passed and there was no sign of us getting anywhere near the border post which was not great. However it was at this point that I realised the really bad news that the loperamie had in fact just bunged up and backed up some intensely insistent diarrhoea. So I had ended up with diarrhoea and constipation simultaneously. Another 20 minutes passed and I couldn’t take it anymore. I walked up to the front of the bus and fortunately managed to convince the driver to stop and let this crazy foreigner off in the middle of nowhere. Since I had constipation as well as diarrhoea I knew this would not be quick so I had no choice but to let the bus driver know just to drive on and leave me there, hoping that my travelling companions would look after my bags stowed in the baggage compartment once they arrived at the destination. Did I say fortunately? Did I mention that this was Eastern Turkey where, at that time at least, the countryside was known for having the odd bandit or two to be roaming about. Maybe not so good.
For the next 10 minutes or so I had the opportunity to admire the beauty of the open countryside around me, squatting at the side of the road. There were beautiful snow-capped mountains in the distance which reminded me of Switzerland. The road beside me was straight as far as the eye could see in both directions. Other than that, there were just some open fields on either side of the straight road. Perhaps some of them were used for agriculture because the ones directly across from where I was had furrows, made solid by the lowering temperatures as autumnal weather was taking hold. It was good when I finally manged to do what I had to do and could get back on the road. Back on the road, to hitchhike in bandit country.
All the time that I had been at the side of the road I had not seen any traffic which could reasonably considered to be not so good news. However, not long after I started standing there I was fortunate to see a flatbed truck coming down the road going in the direction I wanted to go. And the really good news was that it stopped and I was told to jump in the back. As well at two guys in the cabin there was already another guy sitting on the back of the truck and I jumped in to join him. Looking around the best I could make out was that it was a road maintenance crew. Given the possible really bad scenarios that had entered my mind as I had been standing there at the side of the road, this was a really good break. However this thought lasted only 5 minutes as, after the truck had continued its journey down the road for those few minutes, it suddenly veered off the side of the road and started crossing the ploughed up field. Given this was no longer the way I wanted to go this was not so good. And exactly where were we going, juddering across these fields away from the road? After a couple of minutes the truck stopped and the driver’s mate got out of the cabin. I have to admit at this point some of the bad scenarios did once more crowd into my mind. Fortunately the next thing I saw was him stepping down into a gulley – to gather firewood. Ok, breathe, that’s good. It was especially good to see the truck turn round and drive back towards the road again. What happened next however, was that, half way to the road, the driver suddenly cut his engine. And the next thing I see is the driver’s mate emerging from the cabin once more, but this time holding a shotgun, and I notice for the first time the belt of shotgun cartridges hanging across his body. This was bad, really bad.
Did time slow? Maybe. There did seem to be a frozen moment where the entire focus of my being was on the sight of this guy emerging from the truck and then crouching with a shotgun a few feet away from where I was sitting. Wait a minute. Crouching? Why was he crouching? It was at that point that I saw the ducks flying up and away from the side of the field, flying away to live another day. As was I. The driver’s mate turned and climbed back into the cabin, muttering at the driver – probably complaining that he did not stop quickly enough or something. The truck continued its journey back on to the road. It was really good to see that the truck turned once more down the road in the direction I wanted to go. But then, after another 10 minutes had passed the truck stopped again. This time opposite another truck that had come up the road in the opposite direction. At least this time the turn for the better had lasted all of 10 minutes. Not so good, once more, was that I was not making progress to my original destination and my bag with all of my possessions that was accompanying me on my journey to Iran and on to India. It was however good for my truck mates. They manged to exchange some unused cartridges for 2 ducks from their colleagues in the other truck. And only for a handful of cartridges, which might speak to the accuracy of their shooting when they do get a chance to take aim.
Once more fortunately the stop was brief and off we went again – only to once more veer off the road shortly afterwards to stop just by the side of the road. The ducks came out. The brushwood came out. The retsina came out. It was picnic time! While it was really good that it was made clear that I was invited to join in on the feast, the down side was that this would keep me from getting back to my travelling companions and my baggage. So somewhat reluctantly I had to take my leave and get back on the road to continue hitchhiking. Once more fortune was on my side and another truck stopped to pick me up and this time, without interruption, took me to where I needed to go and a re-union with my belongings and my travelling companions. So that was good. With all that had transpired, at this point it occurred to me that the latter had just experienced yet another boring, not so good, lengthy bus journey while I, on the other hand, had undergone a short but intense real life adventure. And maybe had learned some personal lessons along the way? In conclusion, not so bad after all?
At the start of this tale, I made a reference to Sufism, a mystic branch of Islam, so let us conclude with another one. A famous Sufi teacher called Rumi once said, “From books and words come fantasy, and sometimes, from fantasy comes union.” In this case the fantasy is the phrase “Not good, not bad, just is.” So here is a question for you. Could this fantasy become a universal truth for you too, beyond the intellectual, beyond the rational? A truth that you could integrate into your life from this point on? That would be good, wouldn’t it?
