The Elders, as promised, returned two days later to Hanson’s hut. They assembled in his lane while Elder Six pensively knocked on Hanson’s door. With only a brief hesitation Hanson flung it open and beckoned the Elders inside. “Please,” he urged, “make yourselves comfortable wherever you can.” The Elders noticed an urgency to Hanson’s normally taciturn manner. He seemed bright with high levels of energy. “I am pleased to see you this morning!” Hanson exclaimed.
Though they know he is a nice man Hanson’s uncharacteristic joviality was somewhat off-putting to the Elders. Elder Nine said, “Hanson, we appreciate your hospitality. We expected to be disappointed upon our return to your home. Yet, you are greeting us warmly. Are you ill?” With a chuckle, Hanson replied, “Contrarily, Elder Nine, I feel quite fit and energetic. You may say that I feel that my feet are barely tied to the earth. In fact,” he continued, “I feel more aware and sensitive than I have felt in years. Your request of me to lead the People has brought to my mind’s forefront feelings of excitement and a sense of redemption. It is with humility and gratitude that I accept your request that I become Chief Leader of the People.”
At hearing Hanson’s decision the Elders murmered amongst themselves, nodded toward each other, and exchanged glances. Their typically controlled countenances showed subtle signs of pleasure and relief. Elder Three stood, grasped Hanson’s hand, and said, “The Council is pleased by your acceptance. But we must be convinced that you understand the import of your decision. And we must know that you are completely aware of the task you have accepted. Please tell us how you arrived at your decision.” Hanson empathized with the Council’s concerns. They were giving an enormous responsibility to Hanson.
Hanson stood, still grasping Elder Three’s hand. He looked into Elder Three’s eyes and stated, “It is with enthusiasm and delight that I explain my decision to the Elders.” Releasing his grasp from Elder Three’s he slowly paced the main room of his hut while he thought about how best to begin speaking. He glanced out his one window and saw narrow columns of black smoke over a distant hill. Though nearly over, the onslaught inflicted upon the People by the Extroverts was still fresh. Wounds were just beginning to scab and everyone still jumped at loud noises. Hanson’s perception of the hammering done by the Extroverts was acute. It was also fundamental. Not only did Hanson understand, symptomatically, the Extroverts’ effect, but he also understood the deepest changes in behaviors it caused. For two days he deliberated, in the form of an internal dialogue, arguing all sides of his decision, so that he felt certain he understood the enormity of the impact of his conclusion.
Feeling ready to explain himself he turned away from his window and toward the Elders and began, “The remaining wheat in our blackened field is leaning. Through my small window I used to look at that field and ponder why those few stalks remain. They are bent, thin, and not the color they should be. Yet, they are still standing, weakly reaching for the sun, following it as it tries to push through the smoky haze. Yet, all around those remaining wheatstalks are ones that could not survive. They perished from either drought, lack of sunshine, trampling, or toxicity. For some reason those stalks were weaker than the ones remaining. One day, I decided to walk through the field outside my window. In some places the ground was hard and my feet left no prints. In other places the ground was moist and seemed just right for wheat. And in other places no wheat would ever be expected to survive, so ruined was the earth, and yet some still did. I returned to my hut to think about what I saw.”
The Elders sat silently attentive, waiting while Hanson thought about his words. He continued, “Upon returning to my hut I, once again, stared at that field through my window. After some time it occurred to me that, after having walked the field, I was beginning to see it differently. From afar it looked homogeneous. It was a singular field. But, up close, it was like the cloth my mother used to place on our table. My mother made that cloth from bits and pieces of other cloth she collected throughout the village. When I was a child I knew every patch, piece, and remnant of that tablecloth. Each piece was differently shaped and of different material. Yet, all together it made a whole tablecloth. The field, like Mother’s tablecloth, was made of different parts too, some hard, some soft, some wet, and some depleted. Together, it was a field and for many years provided an abundance of wheat to the village. In order for the field to provide that abundance of wheat the farmer, who I think was destroyed by the Extroverts, needed to cultivate each part of the field depending on its need. The depleted parts required constant fertilization. The dry parts needed heavy watering. The parts that had plenty of moisture were left alone. And the hard parts the farmer continually worked with a hoe to keep the earth loose. But when the farmer was no longer there to take care of the field then certain parts could no longer produce wheat. The wheat withered and died first in the depleted parts. Then in the dry parts. Then in hard parts, and, finally, in the moist parts as the ground water dried up.” Hanson paused as he thought about how to explain the next part of his thinking.
Elder Two, who was normally very quiet and pensive, urged Hanson to continue. Hanson, sat on his stool and continued speaking while staring at the floor of his hut. It was clear to the Elders that he was deep in thought. “Elders, I was very impressed by the few stalks that survived the Extrovert pestilence. As I walked what is left of the field I saw surviving stalks in every part, even the most foul. I was amazed to see wheat growing through parched and burnt soil, still struggling, if not to grow further, than to merely remain in existence. Had I been the farmer I believe I would have been anguished. My focus, as a so-called Tinkerer, was on the remaining wheat and how special they must be to have survived. Yet, the farmer would have focused on the dead wheat, the stalks the farmer worked so hard to keep nourished, to keep growing. For, the farmer knew there was a village to feed. And the few remaining stalks are not enough to feed the People. The farmer would know that the whole field is needed to feed the village. As I put myself in the mind of that farmer I could imagine being pleased with the very strong stalks. The farmer did not need to worry about them, especially the strong stalks in the moist ground areas of the field. The only time the farmer really needed to bother with them was when they got so thick and tall that they began to block the sun or absorb moisture from the other parts of the field that needed those, too. The farmer would then have to place a shade over those areas to control their growth so that wheat in the other areas could catch up. Occasionally some wheat, despite the farmer’s administrations, would not grow. Those areas the farmer had to plow under and return to the earth, allowing the stronger ones more space to grow.”
Hanson looked up and scanned the faces of the Elders. They were alert and still and they waited for Hanson to finish. “I remember the farmer. Her name was Grafton. Before The Bleak Times, I used to watch her tending the wheat field. She often smiled as she moved throughout the wheat. Some weeks she spent every day in one corner of the field, applying just the right amount of water, fertilizer, and hoe to coax the best growth out of the stalks. Other weeks she would appear sad as she plowed some parts under. Some days she only stood at the edge of the field surveying the wheat, looking intently for areas that may need her attention, only to return home having set not a foot among the wheat. Elders, Grafton was the wisest of the People. Every year, she provided the flour for our bread. None of us ever questioned how she did it or if, some day, she would not be able to. We simply accepted that she would. In fact, during the short times I was able to stay at village gatherings, I noticed that none of the People paid much attention to Grafton. She, like me, spoke politely with a few people and then would quietly leave. Yet, our stomachs relied on the work she did and the wheat relied on her patient administration.”
The Elders watched as Hanson’s face became pinched as if in pain. “Elders, with respectful care, I must state clearly that you share blame with the Extroverts for the state in which we find ourselves. Many in the village have worked hard and long, but silently. You have chosen, however, to lift up only those that have, like the morning chanticleer, cock-a-doodled their endeavors to whomever listens. You mistook their own professions of worth to be their true worth. Had you lifted their shiny lids you may have found empty pots. I will concede that some of the Extroverts are good, hard working, and valuable. But, they too, often fail to recognize the contribution to the village of the Introverts, like Grafton and me. I believe, Elders, that, because there are so few of the People that are like Grafton and me, that we are enigmatic. We are perplexing. And I understand that. People like Grafton and I do ourselves no favors by our reticence. I also concede that we are equally at fault for failing to teach or engage. Instead of creating porosity we harden our exteriors, having neither the courage nor the skill to do otherwise. And so, I return my diatribe to the wheatfield…..wheat does not know that it is wheat. It merely does what it knows to do. But the farmer knows that wheat is wheat. She sees different kinds of wheat and knows how each variety will thrive in which kinds of soil. Grafton, though sadly gone, lived the standard by which I will lead the People. She cultivated her wheat. She did not command her wheat to grow. The wheat knows it must grow. It can do nothing else. Grafton’s role was to give it all that it needed to grow, to put a stone wall around the field so the wheat knew where it must do its growing, to shade the wheat that grew out of control, and to plow under the wheat that would never grow. She applied water to the areas that were dry and withheld water from those areas where the ground stayed moist.
As the Chief Leader of the People, Elders, I will be both Tinkerer and Farmer. Though farming does not come naturally to me I know it must be done and, because I appreciate people, I choose to fight the internal battle that I’m certain will ensue as I stretch my own capabilities. I also understand the size and complexity of the problem with which we are faced. Therefore, I will begin a movement I will name Rise of The Introverts. There is great skill and humanity to be gained from those people who attend to their business with quiet fortitude. This is not to say that I will do the opposite of what the Extroverts did and create a reverse repression. Instead, I will raise the importance of the work and value of Introverts to that of Extroverts. The time of Extrovert dominance has ended, Elders. It is now time for thoughtful, intellectual, fair, and caring leadership. The entire wheatfield must grow, Elders, so that the whole village may eat.”
After Hanson stopped talking the hut was silent for a while. Elder Ten, with a warm smile, rose and embraced Hanson. A display of that sort was highly irregular from an Elder so Hanson knew it was significant. Elder Ten broke his embrace, held Hanson at his arms’ length, and continued to smile as he said, “Hanson, we agree with your assessment of our failures. We, indeed have been foolish. By choosing you as our new leader we hope to right some terrible wrongs. You will have our full support and want you to know that, despite our poor decisions, we have a deep love for the People, Extroverts and Introverts. We have but one very strong desire now and that is, as Chief Leader of the People, that you work closely with an open, honest Extrovert who will help you deal with the People. You are not naturally inclined to understand their emotions and thoughts, but your Extrovert helper will. They can explain the significance of those feelings and thoughts to you in ways that you will understand. There are several ESFJs left that are quite distraught about their contributions during The Bleak Times and are eager to be good again. Thank you for accepting this daunting responsibility, Hanson. We now recognize the intelligence and wisdom of your type and are eager for you to begin leading us into The Better Times.”
With those final words, the Elders left Hanson’s hut, each of them touching his shoulder, holding his hand, offering a smile, or showing affection to him in some way. As they turned at the end of his lane and returned to their business Hanson took a few minutes to return to his window and look out at the field. He saw a day, many days away, when Grafton’s field was full of shimmering wheat undulating under a bright sun, chattering as kernels gently collide, waiting to feed a thriving village.
The End
Which of these sentences is provocative?
Hanson, not knowing how he feels about the Elders’ request chose to say nothing. As is typical of Hanson, rather than speak merely to say something, he just stood silently in his doorway. The Elders were familiar with Hanson and other Introverts like him, so they waited as patiently as they could while Hanson thought. After a while Hanson said, “Elders please come inside. My hut is small but I believe we will all fit.” Hanson and the Elders moved inside Hanson’s hut and sat where they could.
