Corruption at an institution of research, an institution that supposedly searched for the truth and original ideas, that is what deeply bothered the sad man.
The sad man put his head in his hands and wept bitterly when he finished his story about corruption at the research lab.
Once more I felt ashamed simply because I watched this man in the agony of his lost thought.
As he wept I attempted, in my own mind, to come up with a solution to help him in his plight. The more I thought about it the more I realized that he had done more to help himself than I ever could have imagined.
He had persistently and with great forethought made several attempts to find his lost thought. In light of this I simply sat there on my damp log and waited for the continuance of his story.
“I had read books, visited libraries, wandered in museums, attended churches, graduated from college, joined the Jesuits and worked in research organizations. Yet none of these pursuits aided in finding my lost original thought. My whole search seemed fruitless.”
“What was I overlooking? There had to be some way for me to recall my original lost thought. Possibly there was an answer in the old saying ‘Fight fire with fire.’”
“However, how could I find original thought by forgetting about thoughts; or not thinking thoughts; or thinking negatively about thoughts; or thinking about nothing? Was I thinking about nihilism; the belief in nothing? Did traditional values really matter? Did I spend too much time flirting with religion and objectivity? Had morality hidden truths that I may have overlooked? Did the social organizations of church, school and science form untruths that humanity had been erroneously pursuing? Was suicide the final and singular answer in the quest for my original lost thought? How was I to exit this maze and solve this labyrinthine puzzle?”
“Possibly I had failed prior to my original thought. I would not have had the thought if I had not met the blond girl. If I had not met her I would not have washed my clothes and cleaned my fingernails. I would not have gone to the market. I would not have wandered into the library. I would have not read a book. WAS THAT IT? Was it the blond girl that I paid no attention to? Maybe I should have taken her as a lover. That would have ended my quest before I ever had an original thought. That does not make sense yet it does make sense.”
“Therefore, with these thoughts, I decided to try unique methods that would attack the problem on a bias instead of head on. I would fight fire with fire. I would not think. I would not delve. I would not conceive new thoughts, I would not reason, meditate, surmise, conclude, ponder, reflect or deem. I would be satisfied with reading old thoughts. I would bury myself in things that were not original, not on the cutting edge, things that surely had been reviewed, discussed and been worn out by the vagaries of time. I would not be fooled by the imposters of unfounded thoughts.”
“Where was I to start on this abandonment of thought, this interpretation of nothing? Where was I to start?”
I had no idea where the sad man was to start. On the other hand I knew that I was about to find out.