The Monk and the Modern Burden

The myth of perfect optimization

Foreword

I’ve been thinking a lot about how our days haven’t really changed — still twenty-four hours, still the same sunrise and sunset — and yet our minds feel more crowded than ever.

This story grew out of that thought.

I imagined a monk walking to the village market with a heavy sack on his back. Along the way, he meets people whose burdens aren’t made of wood or stone, but of deadlines, expectations, and invisible strings pulling them in every direction. And slowly, he realises that the heaviest weight he carries isn’t in his sack at all.

It’s a poetic journey, inspired by Taoist tales, but also a mirror of what I see in society — and maybe in you too: the pride of being “needed,” the fear of letting go, and the relief that comes when we finally do.

With gratitude,

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At dawn, the monk descended toward the market. His bag weighed on his shoulders like a familiar mountain—thirty-three pounds of necessities he had grown accustomed to carrying: sacred books, remedies, tools, gifts.

The other monks had nicknamed him "Brother Atlas." And he had secretly taken pride in this, like a tree that stands taller than the forest and draws every gaze.

But that morning, a river in flood bordered the path. It overflowed its banks, sweeping everything in its path—branches, stones, debris. This wild water suddenly reminded him of something he couldn't yet name.

Further on, he crossed paths with the exhausted gaze of a young mother trying to juggle three simultaneous emergencies. In her eyes, he glimpsed the same overflow as the river. And for the first time, a crack opened in his certainty: his burden was perhaps nothing compared to what people in the modern world carried.

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The monk continued his route, meditating on this image of the overflowing river. It was then that he spotted Ashley, sitting on a bench, surrounded by screens like a general at the heart of an invisible battle.

"Excuse me," he said, setting down his bag, "you seem to be carrying a great burden."

Sarah looked up, surprised. "A burden? I'm working." She paused. "Well... my mind is an inbox that never empties."