(John Kenneth Galbraith)
Chattering self-importantly to each other, pushing to get the best seats, slurping their Starbucks, the other Jonathans tippity-tapped their laptops and impatiently waited for their chance to speak.
"So, the first item on our agenda today is an important one, and it's critical that we all agree on it.", Jonathan Edward said. "We must decide what to write about. How shall we make our mark today?"
Like a pack of paparazzi, the other Jonathans all began jumping up and down, waving their hands frantically and shouting "Me! Call Me! I know, I know! Call Me!". Jonathan Edward banged his gavel to calm the googly-eyed group, and then listened patiently to each.
Professor Jonathan (a very serious sort) harrumphed and said, "We should write something very important and profound - something erudite and educational. We must impress our readers with something long and thoughtful. Words of wisdom...Pearls for posterity...an epic epistle of..."
"What a crock!", Jonathan the Clown snorted, and blew a raspberry at the Professor. "That would be SO "Snores-ville", Schnorny! I say we just have fun! Slap on our red noses - break out our Ooooga horns and tickly feathers - and just make people laugh!
"No, I think the good Doctor has a point", Jonathan St. Jonathan the poet sighed. "We must touch people's hearts. Our words should weave whimsy and wit and tickle and touch. Let's paint pretty pictures with rhyme and verse. Life can be our palette and pilot....oooh, I like that! Let me write that down!"
"Short and to the point, I say!", grumped Jonathan Curmudgeon. "Short and sweet. Like a tweet. Nice and neat. Don't repeat. Take a seat. Complete!"
"Excuse me, if I may", Brother Jonathan the monk meekly whispered. "Shouldn't we write something spiritual? Something that will enlighten? Something celestial? Perhaps a prayer. Something to meditate on and ponder? Something holy?"
Jonathan the Clown shot a rubber band at the monk, just missing hitting him in his saintly nose. "Holy! I'll give you something holey!", the Clown cackled, and threw a smelly sock at the Brother, and then blew his Ooooga horn right in his ear. "Let's be goofy!"
"News is the only thing that matters", jeered Jonathan Journalist. "Current events are what cut it. Readers only want to know what you're doing - not what you're thinking. Leave the thinking to the eggheads!"
On and on it went. All the Jonathans talking, none of them listening to each other. In fact, the only thing that quieted them was when Delightful Deby, Jonathan Edward's pretty secretary, would sashay into the room in her pumps and tight skirt and ask, "Would any of you boys like something hot?", and they all got tongue tied and twitchy.
Finally, Jonathan Edward had heard enough. "Thank you all for your input. Meeting's adjourned. You're all dismissed."
Shocked, the Poet and the Clown, the Curmudgeon and the Professor, the Journalist and the Monk all slammed their laptops shut, and shuffled out of the conference room, snorting and sniffling.
"I knew it was a mistake to invite all of them to make this decision", Jonathan Edward mused to himself. "I can see now that none of them really wanted to write anything at all. They just wanted to think about writing, and think that thinking about it was actually doing it. But what am I going to do now?"
He then looked up and saw a little yellow Post-It note stuck on his laptop. He picked it up and read it.
"Sit still. Welcome the silence. Trust your heart. Write for you, not for others. Let Love lead you, not the crowds."
Signed, Delightful Deby (your secret admirer)
Jonathan Edward smiled. "Of course. How could I have forgotten! Gotta remember to give her a promotion", he thought as he began to type. "She's smarter than a whole room full of Jonathans...and I love those pumps".
So Jonathan Edward began to write, and wrote and wrote until he was done.
And when he was done, the voices of all of the Jonathans: the Poet and the Clown, the Curmudgeon and the Professor, the Journalist and the Monk - had been included in what he wrote.
All in one, none bigger than the other.
And though Jonathan Edward didn't write the Great American Novel, he knew he was doing what he loved and that he was lucky to be loved.
And Jonathan Edward and Delightful Deby lived happily ever after.
|Jonathan Edward and Delightful Deby|
(What would he do without her!)