[A Message to You Sleeping in Imagination] The King's Soup
The King's Soup
I am an 'outcast' on Kono Island.
I thought the rules, customs, culture, and values of Kono Island were everything. However, since that day a year ago, I have felt nothing but discomfort with life on Kono Island.
Kono Island is small. It is easy to walk around the island in a day on an adult's legs. However, there is no such thing as a wasteful path for a graceful stroll around the island. This is because all the buildings on the small island fit together perfectly like a calculated puzzle, and 1,292 people live crowded together, overlapping one another. Everything is stagnant to the point where no draft can pass through, and even the weeds feel suffocated.
The islanders here are afraid of empty spaces and empty time. They are more afraid of new changes that might enter those empty spaces than anything else.
I am the 'outcast' of Kono Island. While the islanders work as if they begrudge every wasted second, I, who no longer even have the will to work, spent my days passing through narrow alleys where only one person could barely fit, hiding myself on the bridge that connects to the neighboring island.
Beyond the old suspension bridge, which is only used for the annual festival, lies 'Ano Island'.
Although Ano Island has more than 100 times the land area of Kono Island, only the King and 213 islanders live there. However, the people of Kono Island, who feel terror at the thought of empty space, fear going to the spacious Ano Island more than anything, and no one even tries to approach this bridge.
“Huh? Something is written here.”
A notice was posted on the pillar of the suspension bridge, which was rare.
“In preparation for the King's Soup Festival scheduled for tomorrow, we are seeking help with cleaning Ano Castle.”
Leaving the unspoken rule of “You must not go” behind on the other side of the suspension bridge, my body moved forward on its own, aiming for Ano Island.
Since the day I first participated in the 'King's Soup Festival' a year ago, a puzzle that didn't fit perfectly appeared within me for the first time, and it is trying to dominate me.
That day, I saw Ano Island for the first time in my life. There was vast land that I could only think of as a waste, and time flowed in a way I could only think of as a waste. And yet, the expressions of the people of Ano Island that I glimpsed for a moment were soft and overflowing with richness. That was enough to give me, who had only known Kono Island, a sense of discomfort and lack regarding Kono Island. Having been raised to fear change and to ensure no change occurred, I didn't know how to process this new emotion. Unable to dispel the discomfort and unable to accept it, I had not been like a Kono Islander since that day.
As soon as I arrived at Ano Castle, the butler asked me to do some window cleaning. For some reason, the window cleaning I hated on Kono Island was free and fun at Ano Castle, and as I was polishing away, absorbed in the task, I was spoken to from behind.
“Are you going to participate in tomorrow's soup festival?”
I looked back and the King was standing there. He is the King rumored on Kono Island to be selfish, difficult, delicate, and short-tempered, who never says any soup is delicious and doesn't even decide on a winner.
“Y-yes...” I answered timidly.
“The fact that you came to the castle means you have created empty space within yourself. It means you are ready to accept change. I have been waiting for someone like you for a long time. You will be the pioneer who blows a new wind into Kono Island!
The people of Kono Island, who dislike change more than anything, will likely hurt and hate you for bringing change. They will likely lash out at you with their anxiety about having what they have built destroyed and their inability to accept change.
You don't need to accept the heartless words they utter out of anxiety; all I want you to do is convey my message with your back. You have enough room. It's okay. You can do it.”
I forgot how to speak out of surprise and confusion.
“...Y-yes.” I cleared my throat many times to adjust, and finally, my voice came out. “Y-yes. Please let me do it. What should I do?” I asked the King.
On the way home, I thought about how I should convey the King's words to the residents of Kono Island. Because what the King said was something everyone already knew.
This is what the King said to me.
“The rules of the 'King's Soup Festival' are extremely simple: tomorrow, my birthday, between 6:00 AM and 6:00 PM, a representative of each family just needs to deliver one bowl of soup to the castle.
Whoever delivers the soup will be gifted a large house and vast land on Ano Island.
Listen, I want you to look at the fact that there hasn't been a winner for over 30 years once more. The person who makes a soup without waste and delivers it to the King without waste will be tomorrow's winner. It's that simple.”
In the end, even after crossing the long suspension bridge, I couldn't find a way to convey it. For now, I decided to write the King's words on paper, stick it to my back, and walk around the island. The busy islanders, stressed by the impending change to their daily routine, shouted, “Everyone knows this!” and, angrier than usual, tore the paper off my back and ripped it to shreds. I should have been easily hurt, but I was thinking so much about tomorrow that the cold attitude of the islanders no longer mattered. I headed home quickly and decided to start preparing for tomorrow. But before I started making the soup, I thought I should spend the night deciphering the King's story, which I still didn't understand, in my own way. At 6:00 AM, I waited for the time to check my answer on a hill overlooking the island. Fireworks announcing the start of the 'King's Soup Festival' echoed through the quiet island. The islanders all opened their front doors at once and rushed into the narrow streets, each holding a bowl of the same size, filled to the brim with piping hot, crystal-clear consommé soup. The island, which had been silent without even the sound of the wind, shook with angry shouts. “Don't bump into me!” “Don't spill hot soup on me!” “You're slow! The soup is getting cold!” “Hurry! Move out of the way!” The islanders, carrying piping hot soup filled to the very brim of their bowls, were overflowing with the fatigue, tension, and anger that came from their anxiety. I already knew the result. I remembered being stunned when I looked at the bowls when I reached Ano Island last year. Jostled by the people, by the time I realized it, the bowls were empty. For the same reason, no one has been able to deliver soup to the King. That's why there is no winner. As I predicted, the islanders returned one after another with exhausted expressions. I immediately returned home and prepared the soup. As the sun set and the island fell silent again, the sound of an old door opening with a 'creak' echoed. When I stepped outside, the neighbor said to me from their doorstep: “The festival is already over! What are you doing!” Hearing that voice, the neighbor next to them also looked at my soup from their doorstep and said: “The only soup the King likes is piping hot consommé! It's a waste to even hold that!” The bowls of the Kono Islanders are filled to the brim, without even a millimeter of space. That is precisely why they have no choice but to be stubborn and hold onto their attachments. Thinking of ways to improve their lives or accepting flexible new ideas is out of the question. It's the same with the King. I realized by meeting the King in person that we had been projecting our own idea of 'how a King should be' onto a King we had never actually met, creating an image of the King that was completely different from reality. The people of Kono Island, who have no room to spare, could only do that. That is why I accepted even the free thinking I had previously thought I shouldn't have, and the result of purely facing the King's words and solving the mystery is this: “To avoid useless conflict with the residents, go just before the end of the festival when there are few people, with cold potato soup that is fine even if it gets cold, filled only to half the capacity of a bowl that won't spill even if you walk across the swaying suspension bridge, and go with space and room to spare in your heart and your bowl.” Even as I started to cross the suspension bridge, the heartless jeers from the residents reached my ears. Even I don't know if this is correct. But I want to move forward. I have no choice but to move forward. My heart is set straight on the bright light lit in the castle. -The End-
The King's Soup ~Afterword~
Just like a bowl filled to the brim with soup, I think it's okay for my feelings to be full, too.
It's okay to have times when you get irritated by trivial stimuli, or when tears spill out for no reason. I try hard to maintain self-control so that my feelings, which are about to overflow, don't spill over. But I think it's okay if they do overflow. In fact, there are times when it's more refreshing to let them spill on purpose than to hold them in.
Going back about 8 years, my three sons were born two years apart, and all three were at an age that required a lot of care. They were truly cute, healing, and fun, and I love my children, but the days continued where my physical and mental strength were pushed to the limit every single day.
“I shouldn't have said that.” “I shouldn't have done that.” Days of regret continued, where I didn't want to get angry but ended up getting angry anyway.
I had no family to rely on, and at the time, my husband was working while attending graduate school, so I couldn't rely on him either. I was sleep-deprived every day and constantly exhausted. I was so full, so full that my memory was a blur. But I was the one who created that situation. I was the one who chose not to say “help me.” I was the one who chose to live away from my family. I was the one who chose to sacrifice sleep because I wanted to be perfect at housework and childcare. I couldn't stop the irritation, and it was painful and agonizing, and I wondered why I was the only one having such a hard time, but I think such times are also necessary in life.
If I didn't fill my bowl to the brim, I wouldn't think I needed a bigger bowl, nor would I try to reduce the amount of soup in the bowl. That is precisely why I think there are several times in life when it is time to re-examine your bowl.
Organize the contents of the bowl, discard the ego and fixed ideas that you don't think are necessary, and create room in the bowl. And because you can get a bowl that is one or two sizes larger by overcoming the big mountains of life, you can also gain peace of mind. If you notice, “The soup is about to overflow from the bowl,” you should be happy that a chance for your bowl to get bigger has arrived! If you do that, I feel like you can manage to get through even the tough times.