A boy of say eleven years, Hamato Yamamoto, was kicking a football in his garden against a wall. His father Shinji came out in to the garden and after watching him for some minutes went to his son and said, 'My son we will be leaving for the Martian colony very soon. It is time for you to begin packing your gear and sorting out what you will be taking and what will be left. Remember we are only taking what is necessary.'
Hamato stopped the football smartly, his foot balanced on its top.
'Of course father. How will I determine what is essential?'
'What's that?' said his father quickly.
'How will I know what is necessary?'
Now this was most strange for Shinji stared at his son with an expression of sheer amazement so that the boy became disquieted and said nervously,
'Father! Are you ok?'
But Shinji continued to look awestruck and amazed and just repeated,
'
What is necessary? What
is necessary? What is
necessary?'
And so it occurred that the Yamamoto's missed their scheduled economy class trip to Mars aboard the Muskbus, due to the fact that Shinji had left home for the weekend and not returned.
He had stated gravely to MiriM, his wife,
'I must go away for the weekend, alone. There is something I need to consider deeply and in quietness. I shall return when I have found the answer to this puzzling question.
'Of course my beloved husband', said MiriM who was by now used to some of Shinji's strange habits.
'And what is it that you will be considering?' she asked sweetly.
'I shall be considering what the answer is to the question-What is necessary?'
'Of course husband. I shall be most interested to hear the answer to this most fascinating of questions.' said MiriM.
After some consideration Shinji decided to spend a little time in Ireland in the place sometimes described as a limestone desert and known as the Burren. Here he would find a quiet spot and contemplate what, if anything, is necessary.
The Yamamoto's lived in Sussex by the way, in a small incestuous hamlet called Trumpton, famed for its small racecourse and home to several hundred imbeciles. There is no connection to the Burren except that Shinji had once dreamed of being there for a rain and wind-swept night and was, for some reason unknown to himself, irresistibly drawn there now.
Shinji set himself up in his small tent by the entrance of a cave and began his contemplation.
The days passed. Then months. Then years.
Five years later Shinji arose from his sleeping bag which was by now well worn and exiting his tent he was aware that he could return home as he now had the answer to the question-what is necessary?
Upon returning to his family, they gathered around the kitchen table to hear from Shinji the answer to the eternal question while the ring necked doves played haunting melodies in the garden. Hamato was now a young man and in a close and loving relationship with his phone.
'So my husband' began MiriM, who had aged beautifully, 'what have you discovered?'
Shinji spoke softly but with complete assurance.
'It is necessary to take with you an Art. The Art of Balance. What is necessary is to contain and integrate the essential and to flow effortlessly like a river. The Art of Balance is the ability to contain imbalance because equilibrium is only a temporary state and in most cases time creates spontaneous imbalance and it is that state that requires The Art. This is what I have learned in the white wastes of The Burren.'
The family all looked at him with puzzled or bemused expressions.
'But what does this mean? How does this assist us?' asked MiriM.
'Sounds like, you know, sort of mmmm... weird, if you like get me' said Hamato looking briefly up from his furiously texting thumbs.
Shinji said-'No it does not matter now what it means. That path just leads to confusion. Now, let us get our tickets booked. I have spoken for many hours through the nights with the shade of Aldous Huxley and he has affirmed it is time for us to go.'
