Redz kur japāņu tautas pasaka, kuru es šorīt izlasīju kā mājasdarbu. Mazliet banāli, bet es aizdomājos par pašu banalitāti, nevis par konkrēto stāstu, tāpēc var arī skipot uz pēdējo rindkopu.

Long ago in a small village, in a land that was far away, there was a place known as the House of a thousand mirrors. It was a magical place with dozens upon dozens of reflective glasses of all shapes, and sizes.

One day, a happy little dog learned of this wonderful place. Completely fascinated, he decided he would venture out to visit. When he arrived, he bounced happily up the stairs to the doorway of the house. He eagerly looked through the doorway with his ears lifted high and his tail wagging as fast as it could.

To his great surprise, the happy dog found himself staring at 1,000 other happy little dogs with their tails wagging just as fast as his. He smiled a great smile, and was answered with 1,000 great smiles just as warm and friendly. As he left the house, he thought to himself, “This is a wonderful place. I will come back and visit it often.”

In this same village, there was another little dog. This little dog, however, was not quite as happy as the first one. He led a sombre life, ever dull and gloomy. When he learned of the House of 1,000 Mirrors, he wanted to visit too. When he arrived, he climbed the stairs slowly one at a time, and walked with his head hanging low.

When the sombre dog looked into the door, he saw 1,000 unfriendly looking dogs staring right back at him. Feeling threatened, the sombre dog growled at them. To his horror, all 1,000 little dogs started growling back at him. Completely petrified, the sombre dog ran for the door. As he left, he thought, “That is a horrible place. I will never go back again.”

Stāsta morāle, tātad, ir, ka pasaule ir tavs spogulis, un prieks primāri ir jāmeklē sevī. Tik dziļa atziņa, ka varēja netērēt šim stāstam laiku. Pārāk abstrakti, pārāk banāli, un pasaule tā īsti nestrādā. Bet bija taču laiks, kad šādas Koelju līmeņa gudrības nebija pašsaprotamas. Bija taču pirmā reize, un tad desmitā, un tad tas kļuva par banalitāti, kas nekādi nepalīdz dzīvot dzīvi. Ar to es gribēju teikt, ka šo visu banālo stāstu morāles nav nepatiesas, un kādam šie stāsti ir kaut kad jāstāsta, lai tie turpinātu būt banāli vienmēr un visiem par spīti visam cringe. Bet varbūt tas cringe ir no kaut kā cita. Kā mēs uzzinātu, ka snienāzim neveicās, jo viņš bija slinks, bet skudrai viss bija labi, jo viņa bija čakla, ja nebūtu šo kolektīvo pasaku? Vai to, ka lai dzīvotu laimīgi līdz mūža beigām, princesei ir jāatrod savs princis, vai otrādi.