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THE ONE WHO DRINKS FROM THE POISON CUP
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Long ago, in a town lost to time, there was a young man who grew sick with the weight of the world. Society’s wars, anger, and fleeting pleasures consumed him, turning the many good things about human nature into a disease no one could cure.
His family, desperate for help, brought him to the healer who lived where no one dared to go.
The healer listened to the young man’s words—his anger, his arrogance, his rebellion, and his obsession with feeling good. He saw the boy’s pain and knew it was more than suffering. Beneath the boy’s fury was a wound that reached far deeper, a sickness that was not just his own.
“This is the new pain,” the healer thought. “A sickness shaped by the solutions of the past, and if not healed, it will move into the future. It is a thread entangled in his life, his thoughts, and his soul. He does not see it yet, but this wound is also a doorway—a path to the divine.”
The healer spoke with quiet authority:
“Your sickness is a special one. It lies to you. Suffering never tells the truth, but it does lead you to your own. Give me three months to prepare.”
The young man was sick and desperate, but he had no choice. The weight of his suffering consumed him completely.
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When the healer was alone, he began his journey. He knew this road could only be walked once in his life, for it demanded everything. To heal the sickness of a generation, he had to drink its poison.
And so, he drank—not sparingly, but deeply. He indulged in its anger, its comforts, its discontent, its hatred, and its hollow pleasures. He let it infect him, spread through him, until it took over every cell in his being. The deeper he drank, the more he saw the wound and its beginning—a wound on its own journey, trying to return to the divine. It infected man after man, woman after woman, asking them to carry it back to its home.
At the brink of death, he whispered into the darkness:
“To any truth out there, I need help. I have brought you all I can. I need help.”
What happened next was beyond words, a truth found only in desperation. It came—the darkness’s great companion. The light, but this was a mythical light he had never known. The light that only comes when consumed by darkness.
The poison, a toxin that should have killed him, became a doorway to the divine. In the deepest of hells, he found the ember of his soul.
A moment that you cannot forget, a moment impossible to remember.
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Six months later, the healer returned to the young man. His body was worn, but his purpose was clear. He looked into the boy’s eyes and saw a reflection of the pain he now knew so well.
“I know your suffering,” the healer said. “I know it more deeply than you can imagine. I drank the poison that holds you captive—not to live in its hell, but to find the path from it. Every generation has its own poison, just as every form of darkness has its light. My generation had one form of suffering that needed a healer, and that healer was me. Your generation will have a new set of ailments, and you have lived their hells so you can heal them."
"It is a path you will resist, but you cannot. The darkness will always come to you until you stay in it long enough to see the faint light—the faint light of the infinite.”
The young man listened. He felt sick as the healer spoke these words, but he also felt a great spark inside him. For the first time, he saw his pain not as a curse, but as a lesson waiting to be learned.
“This poison is not here to kill you,” the healer said. “It is a guide for a deeper wound—a wound born from the pain of the world. To heal the sickness of your people, you will have to go to the pain of the world and come back with its cure. When you do this, the poison becomes medicine.”
The young man felt a greater nausea, which could be seen on his face.
“I can see you don’t want this,” the healer said. “You wish you only had a normal sickness, but you don’t. And now your soul has heard its call. It is in you. You will carry as much of your world’s pain to the divine so it can rest. And from the divine, you will bring back the light...
Now that I have shared this message from the light, my time with you is done.”
The young man never saw the healer again.
In the years that followed, the young man avoided the path the healer had shown him. He tried to forget the healer’s words, drowning them out with the same poison that had once consumed him. He tried many paths—of the mind, the heart, and the world. He tried to break his destiny with the light. But the words never left. They were not the healer’s words; they were the words of his soul.
And the darkness always finds its way to those called by the light.
Years later, when the young man became an old man, he learned to walk the dark road of the world’s pain. He took the great journey to the place of true darkness. He had his moment with that light the healer had once told him about. When he sat in front of that light, he wished he had drunk more poison. He wished he could return the world's pain to its home.
But now, it was time to take as much of the divine back on the long road to his world—a road often misunderstood.
As it was predicted, he became a healer.
He faced another young man whose family brought him. This young man was sick with a new disease—the disease of modern times.
The healer spoke to the young man:
“Some call your pain the path of God, or the path of the divine. Others call it poison or sin. To me, they are the same. But if they are truly different, they still lead to the same place. For some of us, the divine path begins with drinking from the poison cup.”
HAVE YOU DRANK FROM THE POISON CUP?
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Steve Mayeda has been a Men's Coach since 2006. He specializes in all of Men's Issues in the modern world, custody, addiction, PTSD, custody, divorce, dating and dysfunction.
15 July 2012