Part One: A Tale of Dancing Goats

Jetzt bin ich leicht, jetzt fliege ich, jetzt sehe ich mich unter mich, jetzt tanzt ein Gott durch mich.
                        -Friedrich Nietzsche, Also Sprach Zarathustra


A Tale of Dancing Goats

    Once upon a time, a time not so long ago, perhaps it was yesterday or maybe it was one thousand years ago, it really doesn’t matter now, in a country not so very near, yet not so very far, in a quiet little monastery, a young goatherd named Kaldi kept his herd of goats under a careful eye. Kaldi was a very meticulous and heavy-hearted young lad who believed that his work was of the most important nature. He never missed a day of work, and refused help from anyone, for he knew that only he could be responsible for the welfare of his goats. Kaldi would not sleep until he knew that all of his kids were safe and sound. No matter how the monks pleaded, Kaldi would not even rest on Sundays. He knew that his position as goatherd was his calling, his destiny, his life.
    One day, however, a strange occurrence took place, which would alter the quotidian progression of Kaldi’s very existence. A fascinating, preternatural phenomenon dumbfounded the poor young herder. He could only blame himself for what he now witnessed as what could only be described as an aberration of life itself, an intoxicating mutilation of all that Kaldi had previously deemed as Truth and Reality. What Kaldi saw on that fateful day was simple--his goats were dancing!
    Yes, dancing. Not just prancing playfully as some animals are known to do. No, they were dancing. A large circle of his nannies were executing the most graceful of pirouettes, while the young buck, who had hitherto been as solemn and ruminant as the young Kaldi himself, now danced a insouciant jig in the midst of the nannygoat ring. Alas, this was too much for the miserable Kaldi. Things were just not right. Nobody had ever warned him of such horrors. He had lost control of his herd.
    Kaldi was beside himself with solicitude and grief. He thought of scolding the frivolous goats, yet they were so happy. He then thought of berating himself, yet he could not imagine what he had done wrong! Resigned to the angst that he had failed as a goatherd, Kaldi prepared to take his life. Suddenly something caught his eye--the goats were eating the fruit from the flowers of a most beautiful tree. Deciding that he had nothing left to lose, Kaldi indulged himself with a few of the fruit as well. The young goatherd now understood the magical transformation of his herd! He felt the life grow inside, and he began to dance with his former subjects.
    A monk on his matitunal preambulance of the rectory grounds saw perchance the phantasmagorical site. Believing the presence of God to be at hand, the monk inquired as to the cause of such jubilance and energy. Kaldi, heavy hearted no more, pointed to the tree and returned to the dance.
    The monk, albeit dismayed at the true cause of the joy, was more prudent with the discovery. His percipient mind told him to try something unheard of in these parts. He plucked the berries, dried them, and crushed the beans in order to add them to hot water so as to secretly serve his brothers the new drink. The ingenious monk had planned to use his concoction to thwart the lassitude of the fellow monks at the evening vespers. The monk surreptitiously served the brew, and soon the monastery gained a reputation as the happiest and most spirited in all of the land. And they all lived happily ever after.