Joe was a pink flamenco, with dark pink flames. Not very ‘masculine’ but then again, he’s a flamenco. Joe isn’t your ordinary flamenco, he’s one of those guys who sets the rules. You know them.
When he was young he wasn’t the unfriendly kind, but when necessary he would take your lunch money and somehow you’d accept it, because it was Joe. It was almost a privilege when Joe stole your money. And when somebody said something about it, Joe simply said “so?” and that was it.
With “so?” he defined a new set of rules, Joe’s rules. And in a way, “So?” was a one-syllable word that told a 1000 word story. Thinking about that, it wasn’t Joe’s 1000 word story, it was my own. In that sense, “So?” was a trigger to start thinking about the situation, putting things in perspective and at the same time it didn’t.
He still stole my lunch money.
Anyway, that was the reason Joe was called Joe So. He grew up doing what he did and always got away with it. One day, he was standing in the pond, together with all the other flamencos enjoying the sun, eating and chatting when it started to rain. Not just a bit of rain, but a serious downpour.
The pond filled slowly with water and the banks started to flood. The watercrept up the feet of the flamencos and one after the other got out of the pond. One of them said to Joe: “Hey Joe, shouldn’t you get out of the water as well? It is rising and almost up to your belly!”
“So?” said Joe and he remained where he was. Standing in the pond.
The rain kept downpouring from the sky. It was like somebody was trying to turn-over an ocean from the sky. More flamencos fled from the pool until the point all flamencos had left, but Joe remained where he was. And again a flamenco said: Joe! Shouldn’t you get out of the pond? The water is up to your shoulders!”
“So?” said Joe and he remained where he was. Standing in the pond.
All flamencos went away, hiding under the trees and the rain kept filling the pond until the water was up to Joe’s neck. That was the point when Joe thought “So!” and realized the situation became a bit tricky. Even for him. So he decided to get out of the pond as well and started to move to the banks.
But when he wanted to move his feet, they were stuck in the mud. He couldn’t move, while the water kept rising and rising. First the lower edge of his beak, so he had to move is beak up to get some air. Still his feet were stuck and then his head was under water, not being able to breathe.
Joe realized he wasn’t going to make it and his life flashed before his eyes and the last thought he had was “So that was it” and died peacefully.
The next day, the flamencos found his body on the bottom of the pond. His feet still stuck in the mud, but with a smile on his face.
Maybe you find this a shocking story but don’t worry. It is a fable and no live animals were hurt. That is the good thing about fables.
The moral of this story is that it is good to be stubborn and go your own way, but it is also good to listen to others (now and then). You don’t have to agree, but it is useful to think about what they say and react, and sometimes just take the advice that is offered to you. Because if you don’t, things always remain the same, with the unfortunate side effect something might go wrong.
Best advice? Don’t be inert, be open for new ideas, keep moving.
A little step at the time will do to not get stuck in the mud,
but be able to stand on top of it.
Flamenco Joe So is part of the World Of Beast.
The WEAST Perspective 