Blinders: A Parable

Blind-er  n.  1. blinders A pair of leather flaps attached to a horse's bridle to curtail side vision. 2. Something that serves to obscure clear perception and discernment.


There once was a little boy named Theodore.

Theodore was a peculiar lad who loved to count and wanted to be the very best counter in his village.  Theodore counted the clouds in the sky, the words in his book, and even the cucumbers in the garden.  That wasn't enough, though.  He needed more.  He needed to count higher.  Looking around his village one day, he noticed the bricks in the sidewalks.  There were bricks in the sidewalks along his street and bricks in the sidewalks along the village square and bricks in the sidewalks everywhere he looked. 

And so he started counting bricks.

His mother asked him to do his school work, but all Theodore wanted to do was count bricks.

His father asked him to clean the barn, but all Theodore wanted to do was count bricks.

His younger brother asked him to play hide and go seek, but all Theodore wanted to do was count bricks.

His grandmother simply asked him to sit with her, but all Theodore wanted to do was count bricks.

Wherever Theodore went, he methodically counted the bricks before him hoping to count each in the village to the very last one.  Day after day he counted without even the slightest pause, without the slightest care for anything else, head down, murmuring each number to himself as he strolled.

Always thinking of bricks.

Always counting bricks.

And day after day, try as he may to keep it all in his head, something would distract Theodore from his self-appointed task and he would lose count.  Maybe it would be a child's bouncing ball coming to rest before him, or maybe a playmate from school waving and calling out his name.  Sometimes, it would be his fellow villagers warning him to watch where he was going before he got hurt.  It really didn't matter the source as each day Theodore knew the result would always be the same: he would lose his count and need to start over.

"This is no good," Theodore thought.  "At this pace, I'll never finish counting my bricks."

So Theodore wondered and pondered about a way to keep himself from being distracted in order to finally complete his goal.  Suddenly, with a burst of inspiration, he remembered an item from the family barn that would surely help him.
Blinders.

Theodore retrieved the horse blinders from the side of the stall that held their trusted mare.  Though his head was, of course, much smaller than the horse's, Theodore affixed the blinders to his own small head as best he could and straightened the leather flaps out to each side.  It was a little awkward at first, but soon enough he found himself back on the roads counting the bricks, this time his mind focused fully on the road before him and not on the world just beyond the blinders.  He raced around the village counting with renewed confidence.  He ignored his family's pleas for help or attention.  He ignored the bouncing balls.  He ignored his waving friends.  He ignored the warnings of the villagers who noticed he was more obsessed than ever.  By now he was approaching the village kiln where the bricks were made.  The end was in sight.  Nothing could distract him now that he was so close finishing the counting of the bricks.

Nothing could distract him.

Nothing.

And that was when he stepped out to cross the road leading to the kiln and was suddenly struck by a wagon carrying bricks being pulled by a horse with blinders on.  As the wagon sped past, Theodore lay broken and bruised and trampled and still in the gutter.

He no longer counted bricks.

Don't become so focused on what you want that you ignore everything else around you.

Take off your blinders.