My favourite corners of the world to hide in are musty, dust-ridden, second-hand bookshops. Within them, I have found many gems, if not diamonds, in the rough.
One particular book comes to mind. It’s a collection of ancient Sufi parables by Idries Shah, all spruced up for our modern age. Its short paragraphs depict the harried life of Mulla Nasrudin.
Late one night, a member of the Mulla’s congregation found him on his knees, apparently kissing the ground below a streetlamp.
“What are you doing, Mulla Nasrudin?” the man asked him.
“I’m looking for my keys.”
“Where did you lose them?”
“Over there,” the Mulla replied.
“If you lost them over there, why are you searching for them over here?”
“Because there’s more light here.”
How many times have I lost my keys, searching under every light possible, only to have strangers retrieve them for me from the darkest places.
