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Welcome to module 9.3
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When the man’s wife came back in the evening she knew at once what had happened. She put her hand to her heart, and looking at him with tears in her eyes, she said, “You’ve looked in the basket.” He admitted it with a laugh, saying, “You silly woman. You silly, silly person. Why have you made such a fuss about this basket? There’s nothing in it at all.” “Nothing?” she said, hardly finding the strength to speak. “Yes, nothing,” he answered emphatically. At that she turned her back on him, walked away straight into the sunset and vanished. She was never seen on earth again.
It’s tempting to laugh at another person’s values; to think there’s nothing in the basket. In the end, it may be everything. What may seem irrelevant to one person may be the whole meaning of life for another.
“Dr. Papaderos, what is the meaning of life?” Robert Fulghum asked. The usual laughter followed, and people stirred to go.
Papaderos held up his hand and stilled the room and looked at me for a long time, asking with his eyes if I was serious and seeing from my eyes that I was. “I will answer your question.”
Taking his wallet out of his hip pocket, he fished into a leather billfold and brought out a very small round mirror, about the size of a quarter. And what he said went like this:
“When I was a small child, during the war, we were very poor and we lived in a remote village. One day, on the road, I found the broken pieces of a mirror. A German motorcycle had been wrecked in that place.
“I tried to find all the pieces and put them together, but it was not possible, so I kept only the largest piece. This one. And by scratching it on a stone I made it round. I began to play with it as a toy and became fascinated by the fact that I could reflect light into dark places where the sun would never shine – in deep holes and crevices and dark closets. It became a game for me to get light into the most inaccessible places I could find.
“I kept the little mirror, and as I went about my growing up, I would take it out in idle moments and continue the challenge of the game. As I became a man, I grew to understand that this was not just a child’s game but a metaphor for what I might do with my life. I came to understand that I am not the light or the source of light. But light – truth, understanding, knowledge – is there, and it will only shine in many dark places if I reflect it.
“I am a fragment of a mirror whose whole design and shape I do not know. Nevertheless, with what I have I can reflect light into the dark places of this world – into the black places in the hearts of men and women, and change some things in some people. Perhaps others may see and do likewise. This is what I am about. This is the meaning of my life.”
And then he took his small mirror and, holding it carefully, caught the bright rays of daylight streaming through the window and reflected them onto my face and onto my hands folded on the desk. Much of what I experienced in the way of information about Greek culture and history that summer is gone from memory. But in the wallet of my mind I carry a small round mirror still”….Are there any questions?