A MINSTREL'S TALE

Once upon a time, not so very long ago, a minstrel left his home and embarked on a journey to distant shores in search of adventure and new stories for his songs.

His first port of call was the city of Amsterdam in the lands of  Nether, and he never got farther than that, for it was there that he met his love - a dark-haired damsel of exotic beauty, cultured, artistic, experienced… and a little older than he. She was charmed by his youth and poetic way with words and shared his creative interests – they settled down together, making dreams of possible futures.

It wasn’t long before a child was conceived, which brought their dreams crashing to reality. “Oh yeay!”, thought the minstrel, “I’m going to be a dad! I’ll have to be responsible; I’ll have to put bread on the table… I’ll have to get a job!”

He was a good and decent man and took his responsibilities seriously, so he learned the language and ways of this land, and searched for work. It took a while to adapt to his new role in life, but when his son was born he felt such love as never before and regretted nothing. “If this be my destiny” he thought, “then I accept it wholly” – whereupon he made a vow to forget his wandering-days and be the best father he could be. He would do whatever he could to ensure the welfare of his son until such time that the boy was fully grown and could lead his own life… which should take about 18 years… maybe 20.

THE CONCIERGE

The minstrel found work eventually in the school his son attended. His new title of “Concierge” pleased him and brought him new friends and status, but what most pleased him was the chance to be always close to his son. He fulfilled his duties with enthusiasm but found too that he could continue his creative interests, sharing his music and song with the children and colleagues. It was a happy time.

Still, after three years he was forced to move on. His son was growing, along with the costs of living, and a concierge’s wages were too low to support a family, so he took a similar post at another school that paid better.

As the boy grew, so did the concierge’s love and admiration for him. Alas, his romance with the mother of his child faded and the two parted. It was an amicable agreement, and they continued as friends to be doting parents for their little one. The man found new lodgings by two trusted and loyal friends - who supported him in many a difficult time – and he was able to have his son to stay on a regular basis.

But this was no permanent solution, for the boy continued to grow, healthy, strong, vibrant and tall. “A prince in the making!” thought the father, and this filled him with pride for he himself was far from noble descent… a commoner through and through.

And the time dawned when it became obvious that a new abode was needed, for the boy grew taller than his father and could not, nor indeed wished to, share the same bed any longer.

THE ARTIST

The concierge was fortunate and found a suitable abode, but that fortune came also with a cost, for the rent was high and put further strain on his wages. The boy was eating as a grown man, his clothes cost more, his education became more expensive, and he required pocket-money… the concierge sought ways to supplement his income and put his drawing talents to use illustrating books in his free time. 

With this new part-time career, the concierge took the new title of artist, enjoyed a renewed passion, and the status quo returned. But content as he was with his present situation, he realized that his heart was ailing. He hadn’t written or played his music for a long time. Yes, he played for the children, he drew for the children, and he played some music with friends, but this just reminded him of where his heart truly lay. He didn’t have the time to indulge himself fully in his personal passions, and the need to earn a living was smothering his creative spirit and draining him of his life’s energy. What kept him going was his vow to be there for his son, and his reward was to see the progress his boy was making, but he became a recluse, working by day and night, with no energy or desire to see anyone else once he got home. He lived for his son and had no life of his own. He felt himself becoming old and disgruntled with his work. But he had his duty as a father – he would not betray his vow.

The years passed and the boy became a young man – tall, handsome and bearded. He was also richly blessed with creative talent, having inherited the best of both his parents. As his studies came to an end and his social interests grew, he was rarely at home. The artist realized that the time was coming for a change and a choice. He could continue so, with his job and life as it was, becoming ever more disgruntled, bitter, old and lonely – sitting alone in the evenings waiting to see if his son would return… or he could choose now to begin again on the path he’d left twenty years earlier.

He was afraid - his youthful vigour and innocent, naive trust in the world had suffered under the weight of social and societal conformations and commitments. But it was time to make another pact with himself – he would follow his heart and re-awaken the minstrel slumbering within.

THE RETURN OF THE MINSTREL

At an age when most men were entering the autumn of their lives, the artist refused to let the summer fade; and at a time when all the kingdom was falling on hard times of economic crisis, he let himself be inspired by his son, whose life was filled with youthful abandon, music, dance, writing and theatre. The artist took a daring step onto a new path towards his own youthful dreams… and quit his day job.

He exercised his wasting body and became strong and vibrant again; and he sought to bring his talents together in ways that could provide him with an independent income. He took to writing his own children’s stories, illustrating them himself and turning them into products he could sell in the new “digital” marketplace. However, this would prove to be only a steppingstone to the true passion… and that he found in a small café were people gathered to hear true tales from the “Storytellers”.

The man had found his pot of gold – but this was not gold to fill your pockets with, these were riches of life, of communication, of bonding with other people, other races and cultures. Riches of understanding and sharing. The man realized more than ever that it was stories that brought people together, forging respect and comradeship in a time when lust for personal gain and power were the order of the day.

The man had found his path, now he needed to walk it. He’d found a new quest too. Along with his children’s books he would write stories for grown-ups, true stories from his own life and experiences. And he’d tell them wherever people gathered to hear them. And he’d help others to tell their stories, freeing them from their fears for public embarrassment and judgement. And he’d write songs again, telling his stories in the universal language of music.

He wrote his first song in ten years, he was eager to sing. He had so many stories to tell, so many songs to share. But how could he do this? He was still shackled to his financial commitments. His books would take time to sell, his funds were low, and he’d given up his security and any hope of a decent pension. He was balancing on the edge of financial hardship.

The minstrel had returned, but he stood at a fork in the road. One path led to a story he did not wish to tell: one of fear and distrust, discarded dreams and broken courage. One of a return to a boring job to pay his bills and his rent.

The second path led to the adventure of making his first album. A path of unknown dangers and risks – but also one of excitement and rewards greater than any pot of gold.

The minstrel stood a while, hoping fate would walk by and help him to make the choice for his heart. And then he took a step towards his future…