The Problem with Life

Caddo, 50 x 76 inches, oil and acrylic on canvas

There was a donkey. His name was Hoti. Donkey Hoti often wandered through the countryside in search of something better. Better weather, better forage to eat, better water, anything that was better than what he had. On the one hoof, Hoti felt like he had a very good life. He was grateful for all the wonders of the world. He liked watching summer sunsets and munching the tender grasses near the region’s many streams. On another hoof, Hoti felt a nagging dissatisfaction with the world and a vague sense of disappointment with his life. He often wondered why he felt that way.

One day, while munching grass and pondering the source of his nagging dissatisfaction, Hoti saw an unusual shape moving in the woods. So, he went over to investigate. It became obvious to Hoti that the shape was an animal of the type that he had never seen before.  It was big and fuzzy and soft with black and white patches. Hoti and never seen a panda bear before and so he didn’t know what to make of it.

“What are you?” asked Hoti.

“I am a panda”, said the panda.

“My name is Hoti,” said the donkey. “What is your name?”

“My name is Sancho,” said the panda.

Donkey Hoti and Panda Sancho stayed in the woods for a while, getting acquainted until Hoti felt the urge to walk to a nearby hilltop.  He thought the view from the hilltop toward the valley below would be enjoyable. He thought that Sancho might also enjoy the view.

“Let’s walk up the hill Sancho. I think you will like it up there,” said Hoti.

For his part, Sancho was not so eager. He was a lumbering forest dweller, not so nimble as Hoti. He really didn’t want to climb to an exposed hilltop with nothing around him but air. He wanted to stay in the woods where he could eat bamboo and enjoy the fresh water that flowed through the many streams.

“I don’t really want to walk up to the hilltop,” said Sancho.

“But I am sure that you will like it up there,” said Hoti.

“No”, said Sancho. “I like it in the woods.”

Donkey Hoti knew in his heart that Panda Sancho would like it up on the hilltop, but he was just being stubborn. So, Hoti asked again.

“Come on. I know that you will like it up there,” implored Hoti.

“No, I won’t,” said Sancho.

Hoti felt a dilemma. He knew beyond a doubt that Sancho would like the view.  But clearly, Sancho was not going to walk with him. And so, the only way that Hoti could enjoy the view was to walk up the hill without Sancho.

Hoti got mad at Sancho and told him that he would walk up the hill without him. But he enjoyed the company of Sancho and didn’t want to leave him.

Sancho also got mad at Hoti. Sancho felt that Hoti didn’t really respect that he was a forest dweller and that he was uncomfortable when he was exposed to the elements on high hilltops. But he enjoyed the company of Hoti and didn’t want him to leave.

And so, they just stared at each other for a long time. They were stuck by their anger at each other in the empty space between the woods and the hill.

Summer turned to autumn and the leaves fell off the trees, and they were still stuck, staring at each other. Then winter came, and it started to snow.

Sancho was much better prepared for the winter than Hoti. His thick fur and body fat kept him warm while Hoti shivered in the cold.

“Hoti, why don’t you come back to the woods and get out of the cold wind?” asked Sancho.

Hoti realized that Sancho was right, and so they walked together back to the woods where Sancho saw many wonderful things. The seasons and the years passed but they never walked to the hilltop together. Sometimes that made Hoti sad. But they stayed together for a long time in the place where they first met in the woods.

Eventually Hoti became old and frail, and he could not walk up the hill even if he wanted to. One day Sancho got sick and died. Hoti cried and cried and wondered why his life turned out the way it did. After all those years he was alone again, but now he was too frail to wander through the countryside by himself.

Hoti stayed by Sancho’s grave and ate the tender grasses that grew lush, watered by one of the region’s many streams.  One day he too laid down and died.  His body fell away until it mingled with Hoti’s in the damp soil. Together they were carried away by the stream and became many wonderful things.