Story: No story. I fell asleep before I could get to it.
Essay: first half of chapter 7 of The Supper of the Lamb by Robert Fararar Capon - "Living Water".
Some quotes worth quoting:
"There are more important things to do than hurry."
"If the prophets of automation and cybernation are right, leisure, not labor, is going to be the normal condition of man. Men will become philosophers, artists, and poets just to stay sane: Contemplation will be the only defense against drowning in our own spare time... The grim old religion of salvation by rushing will go bankrupt altogether, and we shall go straight out of our minds -- unless we learn to sit still.
"The habit of contemplation, therefore -- the ability to sit down in front of something and care enough to let it speak for itself -- cannot be acquired soon enough."
By gum, them's words to live by.
Poem:
All through that summer at ease we lay,
And daily from the turret wall
We
watched the mowers in the hay
And the enemy half a mile away
They seemed no threat to us at all.
For what, we thought, had we to fear
With our arms and provender, load on load,
Our towering battlements, tier on tier,
And friendly allies drawing near
On every leafy summer road.
Our gates were strong, our walls were thick,
So smooth and high, no man could win
A foothold there, no clever trick
Could take us, have us dead or quick.
Only a bird could have got in.
What could they offer us for bait?
Our captain was brave and we were true….
There was a little private gate,
A little wicked wicket gate.
The wizened warder let them through.
Oh then our maze of tunneled stone
Grew thin and treacherous as air.
The cause was lost without a groan,
The famous citadel overthrown,
And all its secret galleries bare.
How can this shameful tale be told?
I will maintain until my death
We could do nothing, being sold;
Our only enemy was gold,
And we had no arms to fight it with.
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