Lee's Original Story (rated G)

You don’t know why you’re here. You think you know. But you don’t. I know more than you about why you are here. I don’t know everything, but since I know something and you know nothing, compared to you, I know everything.
In the old days people used to know that they did not know. People got along better. There was less strife. Less inner turmoil. Less greed. In those days people would come here and ask me “what should I do?” Nowadays everyone knows what they should do. A lot of people even know what they should not do.
When people would come and ask me, what should I do.
I would say this.
Go ask him…
So they would.
And he would tell them, “do what makes you happy.”
Many people followed that advise. Some of them came back and said “I did what made me happy from moment to moment and now I am in such a bad way that nothing I can do will bring happiness- except maybe death.”
Then I would say, “perhaps you should talk to her.” They would go speak with her and she would tell the same thing to everyone. “You are correct, death to self is the only happiness, go and serve others.”
A few of the people who heard her advice took it. And even fewer would return here after some time. “I served people,” they would tell me, “I served many people and some of them were following the man’s advice. They were seeking their own happiness and I helped them in their quest. But it has brought them a sadness like it brought me and now they too seem to wait for death. But I have not advised them to seek advice from the woman because her advice has only caused me to aid in the degradation of others. Ultimately I have done no good service to anyone. What should I do?”
Many of these people had loved and served others to such an extent that they had to appear before me naked.
As often as I could, I would give them a cloak and say,
“take this and go your own way”
To those whom I gave this advice, every last one of them took it. And a very small few of those people would come back here, and they always returned the cloak. The cloaks were in different conditions depending on the circumstance. A small number of these people still would ask, “What should I do?”
I would ask them, “What did you do with the cloak?”
They wore it of course. It kept them warm, shaded them from the sun. Kept them hidden from hungry and curious eyes. Inevitably it might get dirty or torn. Dirty cloaks do not keep a person as warm as clean ones, so they would wash it or repair it as long as they could. It would fall into disrepair, and they would fix it until at last it could not hold together any longer or they were able to find other means, or they brought it back to me.
Someone who asks another person, what should I do? Is like a person who when their cloak gets dirty asks another, What should I do with this cloak? “No one else knows of your means or your plans or your history.” Know one else knows what is best for your cloak?” What if they should advise you to give it to themselves?”
When I finished my speech, I would thank them for returning my cloak to me.
Then they would do something astonishing.
They would thank me. Then they would leave.
And now I am alone in my wisdom, because none of them ever return.