The Father of Teeth
Text for today: I Caries lxii-lxxxiv
Despite all this, however, the Father of Teeth soon found himself among the steaming crags of the mystical east-by-northwest, where discontented peasants led sour-faced beasts of burden on implacable missions of privation, and priests in brightly-coloured robes smiled benignly and encouraged them to resign themselves to their lot.
"And do they resign themselves?" asked the Father of Teeth of one such priest, who was credited with such purity of soul that he had sat in the same place without moving for fifty-seven and a half years.
"Alas, no," said the priest, smiling benevolently. "Their attachment to the world remains as strong as if their flesh were no illusion and their poverty no virtue."
The priest had a face like a walnut that has received joyous news, and his eyes were trained humbly on the mountains and the heavens, neither of which truly existed and both of which therefore reminded him that the selfhood of others was an illusion.
"And for how many years," said the Father of Teeth, "have the peasants been taught the true nature of their flesh and the true value of their poverty?"
"I have taught them so," said the priest, smiling beatifically, "through no less than fourteen incarnations of my spiritual essence, or a little over four hundred years. Before that, of course, they were taught by the gods themselves, who eventually abandoned the enterprise for lack of due appreciation."
"Could the gods not resign themselves also?" asked the Father of Teeth.
"They resigned themselves to abandoning the enterprise," said the priest, smiling benignantly.
So the Father of Teeth chewed up the mountains and the heavens, and the land was levelled by great earthquakes and the sky became red as gums by night and black as the Father of Teeth's gums by day. Because of their attachment to the world, the peasants shrieked and fled, and the priests fled shrieking after them, demanding that they resign themselves to the gods' disinclination to help.
"Why don't the priests resign themselves to the peasants' lack of resignation?" asked the Father of Teeth; but no answer came from the old priest's benighted smile, or from the eyes protruding madly in the joyous walnut face.
Despite all this, however, the Father of Teeth soon found himself among the steaming crags of the mystical east-by-northwest, where discontented peasants led sour-faced beasts of burden on implacable missions of privation, and priests in brightly-coloured robes smiled benignly and encouraged them to resign themselves to their lot.
"And do they resign themselves?" asked the Father of Teeth of one such priest, who was credited with such purity of soul that he had sat in the same place without moving for fifty-seven and a half years.
"Alas, no," said the priest, smiling benevolently. "Their attachment to the world remains as strong as if their flesh were no illusion and their poverty no virtue."
The priest had a face like a walnut that has received joyous news, and his eyes were trained humbly on the mountains and the heavens, neither of which truly existed and both of which therefore reminded him that the selfhood of others was an illusion.
"And for how many years," said the Father of Teeth, "have the peasants been taught the true nature of their flesh and the true value of their poverty?"
"I have taught them so," said the priest, smiling beatifically, "through no less than fourteen incarnations of my spiritual essence, or a little over four hundred years. Before that, of course, they were taught by the gods themselves, who eventually abandoned the enterprise for lack of due appreciation."
"Could the gods not resign themselves also?" asked the Father of Teeth.
"They resigned themselves to abandoning the enterprise," said the priest, smiling benignantly.
So the Father of Teeth chewed up the mountains and the heavens, and the land was levelled by great earthquakes and the sky became red as gums by night and black as the Father of Teeth's gums by day. Because of their attachment to the world, the peasants shrieked and fled, and the priests fled shrieking after them, demanding that they resign themselves to the gods' disinclination to help.
"Why don't the priests resign themselves to the peasants' lack of resignation?" asked the Father of Teeth; but no answer came from the old priest's benighted smile, or from the eyes protruding madly in the joyous walnut face.
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