On a distant mountaintop in a distant land lives a distant old man. Nobody knows how old he really is, although it is rumoured that he may be responsible for single-handedly bankrupting his country's Old Age Pension scheme. He is alternately referred to as The Wise One, Master and Hey You. The Candidate, with what little funds as were available to him, traveled many days to speak with The Master.
Standing before the old man sitting in an Outrageously Modified Lotus Position (he was basically sprawled about his cave), the Candidate asked, "Are you the one they call The Master?"
The old man looked about the cave, wryly. "Could be," he replied.
"So, you are The Master?"
"I didn't say that."
"Well, I want to know if you are The Master."
"Why?"
"So I can ask you - look, are you The Master or not?"
"Others have called me that..."
"Oh. Good. Then, I'd like to ask you -"
"But, they could be wrong, so that doesn't prove anything."
"Oh, this is futile! I'm leaving!"
Sensing he might soon lose a customer, the old man hastily stated, "You have come a long way. If I am not The Master you seek, you may assume that I am just as good. What is your question?"
Uncomfortably, the Candidate squatted before the old man. "Oh, Wise One, how can I become President?"
The old man considered responding, "We haven't yet established that I am the Wise One," but, in his wisdom, realized that this man truly had no sense of humour. Thus, he instead responded: "Do you want to become President very badly?"
"More than anything."
"Then, you are not ready."
"When will I be ready to become President?"
"When you no longer want to."
"Master, I do not understand your answer..."
"Perhaps it is because you did not understand your own question."
The Candidate considered his next question very carefully. Two hours later, he asked, "Wise One, if I am elected President, but am unable to get any of my policies passed in Congress, will I be justified in acting against Congress' wishes, even if my actions are not, strictly speaking, legal?"
The Wise One smiled. "That reminds me of a parable which might amuse you," he stated, ignoring the other's groan. "A Prince was sent to a distant land on a great quest to find the perfect hair spray. On the road, he met a woman with two heads, identical except that one had light hair while the other had dark hair. 'I always have more fun,' the light haired woman told him. 'Gentlemen marry me,' the other said. Ah, a conundrum, the Prince thought. Once he had explained his quest to the woman, the dark haired head said, 'The answer you seek is three days walk to the east.' The woman with light hair said, 'But, you'll have more fun if you go three days south.' Sensing a trick, the Prince walked north. On the road, he met a freelance juggler, a character who has absolutely nothing to do with the story, but who did give the Prince a scare while juggling flaming rhinoceroses. Three days later, the Prince found himself in the middle of a desert, nary a hairstylist in sight. Dejected, he returned to his kingdom. 'Did you find the perfect hair spray?' his father, the King, asked. 'No,' the Prince answered, 'but, I wonder which head was a natural colour and which had been dyed.'
"You see the point, of course."
"Oh, of course. Umm...don't talk to strangers?"
"Mmm...possible, but I doubt it..."
"Where there's smoke, there's fire?"
"No, no, no! You're supposed to relate the parable to what we were talking about earlier. Get the way it works?"
"Oh, I see. Well, umm...I don't get it, then."
"Aaaaaargh! Look, the Prince was more concerned about the journey than he was about the result. Doesn't that suggest anything to you?"
"Why, since you put it that way, it does. It suggests that...one should be more concerned about the journey than about results?"
"You're giving me a migraine! Go! Meditate on a blade of razor!"
The Candidate, confused, did as instructed. He considered how the sunlight reflected off the blade of razor. He marveled at the winding path evolution must have taken over millions of years to end with such a technological wonder. He wept for the billions of hairs which had fallen to the blade. He realized that he needed a shave.
Eight days later, he asked, "Don't you ever eat up here?"
"Nourishing the body," the old man replied, "is not enough to sustain life is one does not also nourish the soul."
"That means no, hunh?"
"I see you are learning. Slowly, but you are learning."
"Are you always this inscrutable?"
"I am what my nature dictates I be."
"Right."
Three weeks later, the Candidate had a breakthrough. "Master!" he shouted. "Master! I think I begin to see!"
The old man, meditating on the figure of Anne Boleyn, was annoyed at the interruption. "No need to shout," he said. "This cave isn't that big, you know."
"Sorry, Wise One. I have come to realize that the decisions of an individual government official are not as important as the process. Even the President. It would be wrong for me to undermine the process, because that is the only true, lasting achievement."
"Hmm...not bad. But, tell me, what if democracy in other countries becomes threatened?"
"Hmm...that's a toughie..."
"Would you like to meditate further on it?"
"No, I think I can give it a shot. The best way to promote our democratic system in other countries is to ensure that it works in our country. In that way, our example will shine for all to see!"
"Very good. Now, how do you feel about the fact that the election is over?"
"It is? How do you know?"
"The Master in the cave next door has a satellite dish."
"Oh. Well, I am not at all disappointed."
"Ah, then you are ready. Go, my son, and good luck in '92!"
