In a distant land, there once lived a boy. He was a little overweight, so everyone called him “Fleshy.” Fleshy really was fleshy, but he also had other qualities. For instance, he was a beautiful writer. He was very organized. His memory was strong. But none of this mattered in the village he lived in. In that village, the only important thing was to become an archer.
The king of that land had assigned this village the duty of training archers. The whole village, and even the surrounding villages, were tied to archery. The village was praised by the state for being “worthy of dying for the king.” The villagers proudly declared this and raised their youth to be soldiers. They even sent them off to war with great celebrations.
Fleshy’s mother had raised him since childhood with archery games, archery songs, archery clothes. But because Fleshy was overweight, it was difficult for him to become an archer. In this village, overweight people were a source of shame. Everyone blamed the mother, saying she had made him fleshy. The mother defended herself by saying, “I thought if I fed him well, he would grow quickly.” She had been the victim of a claim she’d heard as a child. While feeding sheep, she had heard that eating a lot was good, so she had fed her child too much. The mother was well-meaning, loyal to her homeland, but not very knowledgeable.
Before he reached the age of conscription, Fleshy wondered how he would solve this problem. What if he ended up in a rear duty as a cook or blacksmith? “How will I live with this shame?” he thought. He decided to speak with the commander responsible for recruitment. He found the commander, greeted him, and explained his problem. Seeing the boy’s concern, the commander began with warnings about the enemies.
“The enemies are uniting to attack our country. To sacrifice our lives defending the state that remains is the greatest honor! In the west, Kafiristan attacks us with a thousand tricks; on the other side, Hainistan, supposedly our brothers in faith, stabs us in the back and tries to cause unrest inside. No matter how much Kafiristan works with magic, and Hainistan with treachery, they cannot divide us. Kafiristan is one thing, but Hainistan even corrupts our religion. At least they should not have touched our faith. Thankfully, we have Ouristan!”
The boy quickly seized the chance to ask what he needed to do to become a soldier. The commander said: “You would slow us down; we cannot even take you in rear service. You must lose weight, and for that, you must work hard.” The boy asked what he should do to lose weight. The commander answered: “Don’t eat, and move a lot.” The boy asked how to do that. “My work is soldiering,” said the commander. “Go ask the village fool—he’s thin.”
So Fleshy went to the village fool. He told the fool who he was and directly asked for remedies to cure his fleshy body. The fool first seemed saddened. He asked Fleshy, “Are you crazy?” When Fleshy didn’t understand, he asked, “Do you have to be a soldier?” Fleshy said his ancestors had been soldiers, his village raised soldiers, and besides, the enemy was approaching every day. The fool listened helplessly. Then he said, “A traveler once stopped by to rest and asked me a question I could not answer: ‘Why is our enemy our enemy?’ What would you say?”
Fleshy said the enemy was evil and trying to destroy their country. The fool then added that the traveler had asked: “Why do we sacrifice ourselves for the king, when he does not sacrifice himself for us?” What should he have said? Fleshy replied that the king was appointed by God as ruler and that everything was written in destiny. The fool added that the traveler had said, “Sometimes the calamities we face are actually blessings.” What answer should he have given? Fleshy asked, “Are you crazy?” But seeing the fool was truly crazy, he said no, calamities were bad. At last, the fool said, “Since you insist, I’ll tell you. Do you see that great mountain over there? On its peak lives a wizard. Your solution lies with him.”
Fleshy said goodbye to his mother and set off immediately. He walked all day, thinking he had climbed a lot, but when he looked down, he was still at the foot of the mountain. He made camp, and because he was so tired, he ate a lot the first day. The next day, he continued, but by nightfall, he saw he hadn’t gone very far. His provisions were running low. Since there was no one else on the mountain, he began to ration his food, deciding to eat only one meal a day.
After several days of travel, the peak began to look closer. But he was still closer to home than the summit. Constantly climbing uphill exhausted him and drained his energy, while his supplies dwindled. The mountain turned out to be far steeper than it had looked from afar. He drank water from the stream, but since there were no houses, he couldn’t find food. Halfway up, his provisions were gone. Whether he turned back or pressed on, he would face hunger. Determined to reach the wizard, he said, “Even if I starve, I’ll go.” For a whole week, he walked drinking only water. At last, he saw the summit: cold and misty. As he approached, a hut appeared. Seeing the wizard’s hut, he rushed there, and when he saw people at the door, relief filled him. He immediately cried, “Food!” and they brought him some.
Around him a dozen men moved, and inside sat a bearded figure. Fleshy was surprised—this didn’t look like a wizard’s house. He went toward the long-bearded man and asked, “Are you the wizard?” The wizard smiled before replying: “Did the fool send you here?” “Yes,” said Fleshy. “What spell do you need?” asked the wizard. “I want to lose weight,” said Fleshy. The wizard paused. “Go back,” he said. Disappointed, Fleshy began to recount the hardships he had faced on the road. The wizard replied: “Didn’t you ask for magic? This is the magic.” Fleshy didn’t understand.
The wizard brought a bowl of water. “Look,” he said. Thinking it was the first step of a spell, Fleshy looked. He noticed his facial bones had become more prominent. He realized he had lost much weight on the way. The wizard added: “If you go back now, you will be fully thin.” Fleshy, bewildered, asked, “So there’s no magic?” The wizard asked, “What is magic?” Fleshy said, “It’s sorcery, you know, puff!” The wizard said, “There is no puff. We have words; we are human.” One of the men added, “Knowledge is magic; for some, it is a miracle, for some, it is labor.” The wizard continued: “Those who come here want to get something without effort, through magic. They abandon themselves and leave. What’s your name?” “Fleshy.” “And now what will you do?” “I will return to my homeland and do my duty.” “What duty?” “To become an archer. I am from Archervillage.” “From Ouristan?” “Yes.” —“If you want to be an archer, return immediately. You will get no food here. If you want to stay, you will reap what you sow and live with us. But you must obey our rules.”
Fleshy still wanted to be an archer, but he also didn’t want to suffer hunger again. He was very tired. He thought: I’ll stay a little while, then leave.
When Fleshy said, “I will stay,” the young men there were startled. Because they were from Kafiristan and Hainistan. Seeing their unease, Fleshy added: “I will harm no one. I will just stay over there. No one should speak to me. Especially the infidels and traitors!” The wizard immediately said, “You must obey our rules.” Fleshy asked, “What are your rules?” The wizard replied: “For now, you only need to know the most important one. Here, we live in the present.” Fleshy said, “But aren’t we all living in the present?” The wizard said, “No. Your body is here, but your mind is elsewhere.” “How so?” asked Fleshy. “You are not living the situation here. You are living an imaginary time and world planted in your mind. These children are our students. They will not harm you. But you strip them of their humanity and turn them into enemies. You must return to reality.”
Fleshy realized that to stay here, he had to get along with his “enemies.” They weren’t armed. For a day or two, he sat in a corner, sleeping, tending plants and animals. Sometimes curiosity drew him toward the wizard and the students. When he tried his luck with the wizard, he didn’t get much food. The wizard wanted to send him back to become an archer, hungry. Fleshy was forced to adapt, also fearing they outnumbered him. A few days turned into more.
Days turned into weeks. Fleshy couldn’t help his curiosity. He asked the wizard: “Why are you here, why not down below?” The wizard asked, “Should we go down to pay taxes? To give soldiers?” “Here we have everything we need, and peace.” Fleshy asked again, “Why are we down there?” The wizard said, “Because you were trained that way.” Fleshy asked, “Weren’t you trained?” The wizard answered, “We were trained too, but we woke up.” “What do you mean?” “Through pain.”
“Every awakening is painful. We are those who woke up. Everyone wakes from sleep, but some keep their eyes shut, chasing a pleasant but empty dream.” Curious, Fleshy asked, “How can that be?” The wizard said, “You are like that too. Life is trying to wake you up, but you don’t hear the awakening cry of your suffering.” Fleshy asked again, “What do you mean?” The wizard asked, “Do you enjoy growing old?” Fleshy said, “Of course not.” “Then look: you dislike something good.” Fleshy looked puzzled. The wizard continued: “You resist what must be, living in the world inside your head.”
Fleshy, confused, asked with effort to understand: “So is that it? To just grow old here, is that the purpose?” The wizard asked again: “Is there a purpose beyond growing old?” Fleshy said, “Conquest, bringing order to the world, destroying states and founding others.” The wizard asked again: “Would you like being conquered?” “No.” “Would you like being freed?” “Yes.” “Then do the good.”
Although he didn’t fully understand, Fleshy was moved by the calm and happiness of these people. He wanted to be like them. “How can I become a wizard?” he asked. “You can’t. There’s no such thing,” they said. “Then why do people call you a wizard?” “Everyone reflects their own perspective. Each has their own angle. Conquest is a perspective—you look that way because you were trained to. We are those who do not fit that angle. Society shaved us away.”
Fleshy went up to the infidel. “Why are you here?” he asked. The infidel began: “State officials came to our village, demanding extra taxes for the war. We had nothing left to give. So we fled.” Fleshy interrupted: “But you are infidels!” The infidel quickly added: “No, our people are orderly and moral. And we have no forced conscription. Besides, how do we decide who is an infidel?” Fleshy couldn’t answer. By their standards, he himself was an infidel.
Then he went to the traitor. The traitor flinched, but seeing Fleshy’s calmness over the past days, decided to talk. “I was always asking questions, so they first excluded me, then declared me a traitor,” he said. “They said I was faithless.” Fleshy asked, “So you’re a traitor?” “Not a traitor—they called me an infidel. It was clear I wasn’t a traitor. To you, we are traitors. To us, you are.” Hearing this saddened Fleshy. After all, they had spent much time together, sharing food. Fleshy had begun to like the atmosphere here. But he still couldn’t let go of his lifelong dream of archery. At that moment, the traitor struck the final blow: “So if you became an archer, you would have killed us. Would that have made you happy?” Fleshy thought, but could not answer.
The wizard and the infidel joined them. The wizard, believing Fleshy had softened enough, asked: “Tell me, why is your name Fleshy? We’ve seen that you’re organized. Your memory is strong, and your writing is beautiful.” Fleshy thought. “It’s just a name,” he said. But in that moment, he could only remain silent. The wizard said: “That silence is the true answer. Don’t worry. No one knows the answer. And it doesn’t matter.” The infidel added: “Come, let’s focus on this moment.” The traitor asked, “Why don’t we meditate?” Together, they fell into a long silence, sitting for hours.
After some time, each naturally began doing chores—chopping wood, cooking. Fleshy went to fetch water from the stream. The wizard followed, saying: “You’ve grown. You’re no longer a child.” Fleshy asked: “Does everyone grow?” The wizard said: “The body grows on its own. The mind, we must grow ourselves.” “But how?” “By thinking rightly and acting rightly. In short, by not doing extra.” Fleshy didn’t understand. “What do you mean?” The wizard said: “Evil is doing extra. We can only pity them.” Though he didn’t fully understand, Fleshy enjoyed being here.
As he walked, memories of his mother and village returned. He missed the past but also loved this place. He asked the wizard what to do. The wizard replied: “You save the body with the hand, but the mind must save itself.” Fleshy knew he had to return home. He asked: “How do I save my mother, my village?” The wizard answered: “By not saving them.” When Fleshy still didn’t understand, the wizard said: “Change yourself, and the world will change.” Then they spoke of the importance of being honest to be truly helpful, of the difficulty of being honest with oneself, and how the greatest good was honesty. At last, Fleshy was convinced: evil was doing extra. “Doing nothing is the hardest,” added the wizard. “The mind thinks a thousand things. Man is a hunter, bound to deceive and capture. If you free your mind from schemes and worries, focusing on the present, you’ll understand.”
Caught between longing for his mother and the mountain’s wisdom, Fleshy decided to leave. He no longer wanted to be an archer. On the condition that he wouldn’t, they gave him supplies. The day of departure came, but it didn’t feel like a farewell. The wisdom he had gained seemed always to be with him. Wisdom had been there all along—just hidden under his fleshiness.
He began another journey, from the peak down the slope. This time, he tried to eat in a balanced and planned way to make his food last. On the way, he thought of the wizard, the infidel, and the traitor; he couldn’t understand why they were called enemies. “There must be so much I don’t know,” he thought. As he neared his village, his heart raced. He would soon see his long-missed mother and village. But the wizard’s words echoed in his mind: “Live here, now!” “Change yourself, and the world will change.” “The hardest thing is to do nothing.”
When he approached the village, he immediately noticed it wasn’t as before. It felt like a strange place. Different people were there. The streets were silent, the people uneasy. Fleshy ran home to find his mother, but at the door stood another woman. “This house is ours now,” she said coldly. Fleshy was shocked. He immediately realized his village had been occupied. He began to run toward the mountains. Seeing him run, the others grew uneasy. “Enemy!” they shouted. Soldiers were alerted. A long chase began. They spread his description everywhere: “Thin, frail, quiet, young enemy soldier.” They did not want the enemy alive.
The most skilled archers were sent after Fleshy. As he fled from them, he understood once more why he had to give up archery. He remembered the wizard and promised to do the good.
No one ever heard of Fleshy again. For, like every being, to exist, he had to cease existing.
