I was reminded today of a story I've heard once or twice before. You know the kind. Its origins are a mystery, but each time you hear it, it makes an impression. So you remember. It's an old story.
This one goes:
--
An old farmer buys a horse that runs away. His neighbor says, "That's bad news." The farmer says, "Good news, bad news, who can say?"
The horse comes back with a second horse. The farmer's neighbor says, "That's good news!" The farmer says, "Good news, bad news, who can say?"
The farmer's son rides the new horse and falls, breaking his leg. The neighbor says, "That's bad news!" The farmer says, "Good news, bad news, who can say?"
The king enters a war and drafts all able-bodied young men to fight. The farmer's son is passed over. The neighbor says, "That's good news!" The farmer replies, "Good news, bad news, who can say?"
--
The old farmer's taoist attitude guides the story. His patient reaffirmation reminds us not to judge a situation in haste. We imagine that the farmer sees the interconnectedness of things, recognizing that one thing leads to another and that it's impossible to predict how any situation, no matter how dire it seems, will play out in time.
The oldest versions of the tale go one step further. They assign an additional moral to the tale, noting that the only certainty is death, which comes for us all.
It's a heavy ending for so brief a tale, but if we take the heart of the story in stride, we need not interpret it as such. After all,
--
An old farmer is plowing his field when death comes for him.
Good news, bad news, who can say?
