The night before the She and He Artists were to leave for their first big trip, they realized that they hadn’t checked their new craft tent. Did it have all the walls, accessories, poles? Was it hard to put together? What did it even look like? Was it in perfect condition or were there any rips, tares, or broken pieces? They knew they had pushed this task almost too far off their radar and had waited to the very last possible moment to find out if there were any issues. They had to stop and take the time to learn their craft tent before it was too late.
They started by pulling out all of the parts that had been placed in its large box by the manufacture around thirty minutes prior to dusk. To their relief it seemed like all the parts were there. But shortly into the process they realized the words, ‘one or two can put up the tent’, was either a misprint or they were defective at pitching a tent. They read the instructions and pulled, pushed, lifted; read the instructions again and repeat the process several times, past the last filtered light of the sun into the night’s darkness.
They were nervous, trying not to point their dismay at each other. They pushed on into the night for fear that they would look like the novices that they were in front of all the other artists during set up at the art show. They put the top on, pulled the legs, lifted the middle that was like an umbrella, while the She Artist’s arms shook, her hands sweat, and frustrations were near a spill over point. She strained to hold it up as the He Artist ran around to each pole clicking it into place. By the third pole She was barking the words, “HURRY!” At the final pole He slipped and She lost her grip, both physically and emotionally. After they caught their breath, with all the grit two fit humans could muster, they got to hear the click of the final pole snapping into place. They were so relieved. The next task was to put the four filmy nylon walls in place as the wind started to pickup and lightning in the distance threatened and gave light.
After over two hours the craft tent was in some assembly that looked closed to what a craft tent should look like. They undid the tent with mental notes and comments about this or that they hoped would help the next time they had to tackle the tent. Their egos feared what it would look like in front of others as they put up the tent. What were the lessons they had learned? Would they be able to remember what worked over what didn’t work when the time came? The tent had their attention, respect, and trepidation on its side. The tent was a fierce competitor and they both dreaded the next battle. They knew they had to be ready to meet the challenge… and win.
The day came and the tent was carried to its station. The anxiety between the She and He Artists as the time drew close for them to once again fight with the tent oozed from their bodies in the warm Mississippi air. Their ten by ten tent was once again at center ring. They could not go further in the set up process until the tent was up, the top was in place, and the walls were secure. They pulled the tent and its weapons of choice out of its carry all bag. They stood it up, pulled it apart from corner to opposite corner. It towered over them. They put the top on and pulled it into position, as they had during the previous exchange.
They looked pathetic, novice extraordinaires, to the casual on-lookers, as well as to the sage art festival competitors. A local artist viewed the novices and took compassion upon them. He remembered what his first show looked like, and he knew it hadn’t been pretty. He was viewing that time once again through the two fighting artists who looked like they were in an ugly battle with their tent. He decided that through all the times he had been helped in the beginning of his craft career; it was time for him to be passed the torch… from being helped to being helpful.
He slowly walked over to the She and He Artist, so not to startle them. In the frustrations and embarrassments She noticed him first. She visually implored him with her eyes to help in their struggles. He kept looking at the situation. She then audibly asked him to consider helping them. He gave her a look that frightened her. Would he just turn and walk away, leaving them in the craft tent, pole flaring hell? Or would he come to their rescue? He looked up and down at the issue. He walked to the middle of the tent. Both the She Artist and He Artist stared at him with hopeful eyes and astonishment. He took the middle bar with both of his hands and he shook the tent with quick thrusts into submission. Its poles flared outward; and the top was sent upward. After a few masterful shakes he demanded the He Artist to go to each of the side poles and click them into place. The He Artist was shocked and astonished. But he did as ordered. Within two minutes the tent was in place. They both thanked the Sage Artist for his kindness and wisdom with so much glee and gratitude. They shook his hand and thanked him again before he strolled off, back to his own booth as a hero should.