This, Too, Shall Pass: a story

    A long, long time ago in a kingdom far, far away, there lived a king. He was the happiest king that had ever lived, and he had everything he could ever want. The Christmas finally came when, one by one, his friends and family came before him, begging his mercy. “We cannot think of ANYTHING to get for you, Sire! You have everything anyone could ever want!” The king was feeling rather generous that holiday season, so to each of them he waved a hand and forgave them.

  But after everyone left he sat alone on his throne and thought about all the things he had and how they all made him happy. His exotic parrot collection made him happy. The shining tapestries that depicted ancient myths and legends that hung in his great hall also made him happy. All the artists whom he paid to create for him and perform for him made him happy. So did his gargantuan underground library full of every book ever written. And, most importantly to him, he had a wife and children who were the best anyone could ask for. He sat there for a long time and thought about all the things he had and how nothing was lacking in his life. His denizens were right. There was nothing else left for him to receive.

  Except. . . He realized suddenly that everything he owned made him happy. “But that doesn’t have to be so!” he said to himself, sitting up straight in his throne. “What if I requested something that makes me unhappy!” He stroked his chin for a moment. “Well,” he said, “I suppose I’d not enjoy being unhappy all that much. So—“ he grinned to himself and snapped his fingers. “A gift that can make me happy or sad—on command!” There was nothing he loved more than having things on command. Except for, perhaps, making wildly improbable requests. So he called for his Advisor, the wisest person on his council, and put in his request.

“I’d like a gift, Advisor.”

“Yes, Sire. What sort of gift?” she asked.

“A gift that can make me sad or happy on command! A gift that when given to me while I’m happy will make me sad and when given to me while I’m sad will make me happy.”

The Advisor did her best to keep her face straight and her tone respectful. “Is that all you want for Christmas, Sire?” Her voice was stuffy with sarcasm in her own ears, but the king didn’t seem to notice.

He smiled and went back to stroking his beard. “Yes,” he said, “yes, I think that’ll be all.” And he waved his hand to dismiss her.

  The advisor was fairly certain she’d fail to find such a gift and be executed for it. She made sure her will was updated and made a list of all the people she’d have to write letters to or visit before her execution date. Then she set to work.

Her work hours, most days, were spent reading and writing. She’d read about events long past in order to guide her kingdom into the future. She studied the mistakes of the past in order to avoid them in the future. And she studied the successes of the past and tweaked them to work for the future.

But this assignment was different. A gift such as the one she was supposed to invent had never existed before. The past would be of no help. She was lost without the past, she realized. For what could anyone know except what had been known before? What could be imagined except what had been thought of before or—at the very least—cobbled together from many past ideas? In other words, what was truly original? Nothing, she realized. Except for questions, perhaps like the one she’d just asked. And her king’s impossible request.

An impossible request required an original solution. And she very much doubted she could come up with such a solution.

But she didn’t give up trying. She studied hard for several weeks, until Christmas Eve morning finally came. She put her books back on their shelves, removed her reading glasses, put on her coat and went for a walk. There was no point wasting her last day cooped up in her library.

She walked for a very long way that day, along the river that led away from the town, crunching her way through the untouched snow. It was sunny but it was cold, and she wondered why. In the summer it was sunny but the sun was hot. How was that possible? Wasn’t it the same sun? Such unanswerable questions frustrated her. She felt like punching something or sitting down on the snow and crying. She did neither. There was no point. She was pretty sure she’d never felt as hopeless before in her entire life. She’d never felt the pointlessness of life so keenly. And she was at a loss for what to do with such a feeling, except for to wait it out.

She took a deep breath. The relentlessness of time, she thought. It never leaves us alone. It never stops. “This, too, shall pass,” she whispered to herself. Acknowledging that, putting her misery into perspective with all the rest of Time and the Universe, that made her feel instantly better. And she realized, suddenly, that was the impossible gift. Time. Because time never stopped.

On Christmas morning the advisor got up early and rode to the castle ahead of the holiday crowd that she knew was arriving soon for the breakfast feast. She fidgeted in her boots as she waited for the herald to announce her visit to the king. Finally, she was allowed to enter the throne room. She bowed deeply. “Your highness. I’ve brought your gift.” The king nodded and said nothing. He wasn’t a morning person, not even a Christmas-morning person. “Time” she said, “it never leaves us alone. Not to enjoy the happy times nor to wallow in the sad times.” She was smiling. The king was frowning. “Here is your gift, then, Sire! Not something I invented. Simply something that’s always existed, and I’ve simply harnessed its power by putting it into words: This, too, shall pass! Sadness is about loss, sire. It’s about lost opportunities. Lost love. Lost memories. Lost people. Lost places.”

The king was frowning very deeply now. “Yes, I know.”

“And happiness? It’s the reverse of sadness, in that it comes from all the things we hope to never loose. But! Loss fades. And happiness can be found. And this is why the gift works. Because both happiness and sadness are temporary. They both pass!”

He was speechless for a long time, perhaps thinking of all the things he’d loved and lost in his many years of life. Then he smiled. “You’re right, of course,” he said. “Thank you for the gift.” He then gave her the official title of Best Gift-Giver to the King and promised to grant her whatever she wished that he had the power to give.

Perhaps I should say that the king lived happily ever after and continued to be a good, happy king and a good husband and a good father. Perhaps I should tell you what the advisor wished for and that she lived happily ever after and grew older and wiser and learned to take more walks rather than stay in her library all day. But I shan’t. Because that, too, would’ve passed, and time makes all things pointless in the end. So, perhaps it wasn’t a happily ever after. But it was an ever after, and with that we should all be content.