Go Fig

A very old monk, whose spine was bent and breath was short, knew that his days upon the Earth were numbered, and the number was low. With one of his last remaining days, he chose to walk along the path outside his temple, planting fig trees.

A young man saw the old monk and recognized what he was doing. He asked the old monk why he chose to plant fig trees, which will not bear fruit for at least five years. Surely the old monk will never taste the fruit of his own labors, but he might live to see the harvest of this year – so why not plant something that will produce fruit in that time?

“Because,” said the old monk, smiling wryly, “I do whatever the fuck I want.”

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