The Cat’s Cradle and the Fool!

The Fool’s All Tied Up!

Dear Mother, I am ashamed and utterly dismayed throughout this constant march of life, and even more so when the fibers of daily living tangle my gait. My own soul is bruised from how often I stumble. I pray, first and foremost, for your forgiveness. I haven’t been sending the promised letters you requested. I recall I swore to write frequently and how I have failed you. You may set the blame on my weary shoulders; for indeed, I have not kept my end of the bargain. When can a man truly hold up his end of the deal? At all times or just when it counts most? These bands of duty and fate’s strands tighten round my throat. How can a man be at ease and make promises when, at both critical instances and at every waking moment, not even his lungs are allowed sweet breath?

I drafted a great many promises, deals, and other agreements; both written and spoken. All of which I have to answer for. I fear I do not have enough words to explain, and now such things are reduced to cruel libel and slander. Perhaps even less so as life continues this chaotic mess of strings. I feel like a mouse caught in thorns while horrible creatures circle overhead.

I blame these accursed tasks, or it could very well be life in general. How simple our ancestors must have been! No worrying over the vanities, if this roof over my head shall always be mine, and no worrying about what another soul might think of mine. They only suffered enough for their bread, a bit of land, and finding another to carry their names. Modern days have expanded these iron cords of vitality and complicated the wiry threads. They are woven so minutely and complexly one might believe them a fragile spiderweb. Then to be rudely awoken to reality when it slices and entangles the probing finger.

A devilish cat’s cradle: bills, laws, medicine, time, employment, friends, family, duties, and handling all these weights as deftly as a dancer. Forced to pivot to life’s whim and its mysterious rhythm, making the unnatural a second habit. It is maddening to know much is still to come. I am sorely burdened; I cannot imagine how you managed it all while managing the farm, children, and a husband. I have less and bumble it all.

What purpose does all this strife serve?

Please, don’t fret over me. The shop has not been busy. Regrettably, it had to be closed for a short time while I undid the knots in my heart. I relied heavily on what savings I have left, adding to my worries. A few customers stopped at the shop. I ignored their curious eyes and soft knocks. When they left, and I knew I wouldn’t have to meet their questions, I walked the streets, watching others work and toil. I wondered, ‘Do they think as I do? Kick and bucking inside the strands tied so fervently about our forms? Why?’

One bright morning, I went about the town and saw the fool. You recall him? The patchy wretch who sings strange songs and wallows willfully wherever he may wander? When I heard him grunting, I tried to avoid him, yet when I looked over, I gasped. A bar tied behind his back, pinning his arms. His fisted hands dangled underneath the thick rope, and he was dressed in a blue skirt and a ragged white blouse! And on his head jingled his ever-present hat of bells. He made a terrible fuss as he repeatedly fell and rolled in the dirt.

I rushed over to his side, panicked and angered at who might have done this to him. Odd as he is, it is a cruel prank to do this to anyone. I reached down to undo the knots, and he spun away, slapping his crooked arms! Again, I tried and again he warded off my help! He berated me for tainting his ‘crop’!

Wide eyed, I left him alone. Then a boy, walking his dog, came next to me and explained how a few days prior, him and the fool had been playing a game of strings and knots. The fool found it all too easy after undoing complex knots and ties! So, the fool paid the boy to tie him up! I was appalled at the fool’s lunacy and the boy’s compliance! Yet, what could I do?

I watched the idiot, caked in sweat and dirt, tumble and grunt. Then, he began to sing! Dumbstruck, the boy and I just looked at that maniac.

“Now, now! Tsk, tsk! No need to lose one’s head! This is all a task for mind! It won’t leave me dead! I’ll be fine, though these flies bite my naked hind!

Never fear, I’m a mule working and biting cud and my metal bit! How I chew! The Lord demands I work on these things! Yes, yes, that’s what good mules do! No sense in wasting thoughts on grievings!

As a babe plays in cradles, so a man plays in struggle! Soon! Soon, freedom and newness will blossom! This trap can be solved, then I shall raise the highest chuckle! My laugh will ring loud in God’s kingdom!

Like the mightiest bell! A trap is no trap when Christ’s within! This cradle will not bring me to Hell! No, this nut’s beginning to crack in God’s vise and kitchen!

Now, now! Tsk, tsk! The good fruit is still hidden. I won’t have another sour this prize! Think on it, just as the good son did as bidden, so too shall I rise!”