This post is going to be a bit different: I just got an idea for a comic book (yes, based on personal growth–otherwise I wouldn’t mention it here), but I don’t draw well–so I thought I’d just summarize the story and, of course, throw in my two cents about its lessons/implications. Enjoy, and feel free to imagine marvelously drawn cartoons as you read. 🙂

Many people know the Arab story about the man who didn’t get the memo to “Trust in God, but tie up your camel,” but today I’m going to tell you the less-famous continuation of that story–and how it created a little-known superhero: Thirsty Man!

Part One: Dude, Where’s My Camel?

There are many variations on part one, but Thirsty Man’s version goes like this:

A Bedouin was riding his camel across the desert with his servant: the camel-keeper affectionately known as “Camel Boy.” One morning, they awoke in the middle of the desert to find that the camels were gone–inspiring their now-famous exchange:

Camel Boy: Dude, where’s my camel?
Bedouin: Didn’t you tie them up?
CB: No, I trusted in God to keep them here.
B: A little advice for the future, Camel Boy–trust in God, but tie up your camel.

Which brings us to the lesser-known part of the Thirsty-Man saga, in which these two camel-less fellows are forced to make their way across the desert by foot.

Part Two: Camel Boy Becomes Thirsty Man

As you can probably guess, the desert was very hot, and walking across it made them very thirsty. They rationed their extremely limited supply of water, but soon ran out of that. They were able to get a little moisture from a small cactus, but just barely enough to keep them alive.

After a few days and nights of staggering across the desert with parched mouths, they reached an oasis. The good people of the oasis took pity on the tired, thirsty travelers. Aside from tending to their physical needs, the villagers listened to their guests’ story with rapt attention.

Camel Boy especially appreciated the attention being lavished upon him–particularly by the beautiful women of the oasis, who wiped his brow, washed his feet, and hung on his every word. He had always lived in the Bedouin’s shadow, a near-invisible servant–but now he commanded center stage, evoking equal parts awe (“Wow, you really walked all the way across the desert?!”) and pity (“You poor dear, you must be so thirsty!”).

He was no longer a boy sidekick–he was a heroic leading man: Thirsty Man!

(At this point I imagine him standing tall under the oasis’s palm trees, proudly wearing his newly donned super-hero costume–the requisite cape and boots, as well as a tight-fitting unitard with the “Thirsty Man” insignia: a capital T over a burning sun and an almost-empty glass of water.)

Aside from listening to his amazing story (from which he conveniently omitted the detail about why he was walking across the desert), the oasis villagers offered water. The Bedouin gratefully accepted, drinking numerous glasses until his thirst was quenched. Thirsty Man, however, only took a few drops–just enough to wet his tongue.

“I don’t want to shock my system,” he explained. “My body has grown accustomed to doing with almost no water.” The villagers tried to coax him into drinking more, but he was adamant: just enough to keep him alive and no more.

Part Three: Thirsty Man’s Travels

Once the Bedouin had quenched his thirst, he decided that he liked the oasis so much that he would stay there. Thirsty Man, on the other hand, had bigger plans for his life: he was going to travel the world. And so, with much concern for his well-being (especially that lingering thirst, which he never seemed to shake), the villagers bid Thirsty Man adieu.

Once again he wandered off into the desert, with only a small canteen of water to sustain him until the next oasis. Amazingly, he managed not only to cross the desert but to travel around the entire world, making thirst not just a temporary condition but a way of life.

(Indeed, he’s built his entire life around this identity: His favorite food is extra-salty potato chips. His favorite animal is the cottonmouth viper. His favorite musician is Sonic Youth’s guitarist, Thurston Moore.)

Thirsty Disciples

Sadly, Thirsty Man is misunderstood by many people, who offer him water and are perplexed when he refuses to drink a normal amount. Others, however, are moved by his plight. Indeed, he has re-created time and again the original scene in the oasis: intrigue, concern, pity, and, above all, interest.

And wherever he goes, he certainly does attract interest–as well as disciples. The disciples don’t wear the same costume, and they build their lives around symptoms other than thirst–but the dynamic is the same:

• They identify themselves based on a hardship, illness, or symptom.
• The symptom, like Thirsty Man’s thirst, may have been unavoidable at some time in the past, but is no longer necessary to continue.
• They derive some benefit from the symptom–such as pity, assistance, or simply attention.
• They resist all efforts to eliminate the symptom or distance themselves from it.

Please note, however, that there’s a big difference between a thirsty man (someone who’s thirsty) and Thirsty Man (who’s built his entire identity around being thirsty).

Dark Night of the Thirsty Man

Sometimes, in his darkest hours, lying in bed at night, Thirsty Man wonders if it’s all worth it or if he should just give in and drink as much water as most other people. But then who would I be? he wonders. Certainly not Thirsty Man. And I’m not Camel Boy anymore (and wouldn’t want to be, even if I could). So I’d just be…

But he can’t even bring himself to finish the sentence. It’s just too scary, too confusing, too painful. And so he falls asleep thirsty, wakes up thirsty, puts on his Thirsty Man costume, and continues his thirsty lifestyle.

As I envision my comic book’s final page, Thirsty Man is surrounded by a throng of adoring, thirsty disciples. A few uncomprehending people offer him water, which he pushes away, despite his chronic thirst.

I wish that this story had a happier ending, but I’ve found that while you can offer Thirsty Man a glass of water, you can’t make him drink.

…

Have you ever met Thirsty Man or any of his disciples? What do you think is the best approach to them? Have you ever fallen into a variation of the “Thirsty Man” pattern, even a little bit?

Thanks for humoring my comic approach! Next time we’ll get back to “normal” posts–I promise! 🙂