They Call Me the Seeker


Stories are nothing until they are observed.  Whether they’re heard, seen, or even felt, stories are just thoughts and memories that drift until connected to others through observation.

That was the role of the seeker.  To observe.  To search low and high for fifty million fables.  To see, hear, and feel the stories of the masses.  To become the library of their life.  That was his purpose.

His journey took him through the expanse of the country.  The landscape ceaseless but the air soft, he instills the pages in the vast emporium in his head…

The Seeker journeyed the world over, through the legacies of great cities and the open worlds of new countries.  He decided to end it in one of the few places of the world where anyone would listen.  There was an endless collection of stories and observers within the grand library in Washington, DC.  There he met an old man, with whom he shared his experiences, and from whom he further collected more tales.

After sharing their chronicles with each other, the old man asked what the Seeker’s purpose was.  Why go through so much trouble to collect other people’s lives, instead of creating your own?  The Seeker responded that he found the greatest satisfaction by learning.  He had learned much from his adventures, but still he had no intention of stopping.  As long as there were stories to be observed, his purpose would never end.  It was his life, how he had interpreted meaning, and the Seeker’s journey would not end until the day he died.

(Making of blog post here)

Jack Brooks

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