Soul Music - Infinite

The holy man opened the other eye. 'The secret of existence is to disdain earthly ties, shun the chimera of material worth, and seek one-ness with the Infinite,' he said. 'And keep your thieving hands off my begging bowl.'

The sight of the supplicant was giving him trouble.

I'VE SEEN THE INFINITE, said the stranger. IT'S NOTHING SPECIAL.

The holy man glanced around. 'Don't be daft; he said. 'You can't see the Infinite. 'Cos it's infinite.'

I HAVE.

'All right, what did it look like?'

IT'S BLUE.

The holy man shifted uneasily. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. A quick burst of the Infinite and a meaningful nudge in the direction of the begging bowl was how it was supposed to go.

"S black,' he muttered.

NOT, said the stranger, WHEN SEEN FROM THE OUTSIDE. THE NIGHT SKY IS BLACK. BUT THAT IS JUST SPACE. INFINITY, HOWEVER, IS BLUE.

'And I suppose you know what sound is made by one hand clapping, do you?' said the holy man nastily.

YES. CL. THE OTHER HAND MAKES THE AP.

'Ah-ha, no, you're wrong there,' said the holy man, back on firmer ground. He waved a skinny hand. 'No sound, see?'

THAT WASN'T A CLAP. THAT WAS JUST A WAVE.

'It was a clap. I just wasn't using both hands. What kind of blue, anyway?'

YOU JUST WAVED. I DON'T CALL THAT VERY PHILOSOPHICAL. DUCK EGG.

The holy man glanced down the mountain. Several people were approaching. They had flowers in their hair and were carrying what looked very much like a bowl of rice.

OR POSSIBLY EAU-DE-NIL.

***

Soul Music - p13-14