In the garden with Adam and Eve … and Steve (Jobs)!

To anyone perceptive enough to grasp the meaning of this fable,

Far in the East, underneath the shadow of the inexpressibly elegant “mountains on high” and nestled rather inconspicuously between four separate streams in the lush “valley of innocence and bliss,” there lay a garden. Or so it was rumored. No man, woman or animal had successfully traversed this terrain in more than two eternities, and as such, the secrets of the garden had been all but lost to humankind; its unending beauty merely a fantastical myth. That was, until a lone pigeon returned from this land with a neatly rolled-up note — a note which revealed once more the lost wonders of the garden, while also professing a grim forewarning about the direction of humankind. This note, which I imagine you are most eager to ascertain the contents of, reads as follows:

In the garden, there was woman and there was man (I put woman first this time to avoid being labeled “sexist,” which, of course, I am … not). Also in the garden, amongst the birds, the fish, the wild animals and the infinite plethora of vibrant botanical life, there grew two sturdy trees: the Tree of Life and the Tree of Pleasure. Neither woman nor man were permitted to eat the fruit of the latter, for on the day that they did, they would surely die. Of course, neither woman nor man understood the meaning of death, for at this time, they still dwelled in the “valley of innocence and bliss” that all of us exist in before coming to know the tragedy of life — for is there anything more terrifying than to know that one is alive?

So woman and man went on living happily for a while, frolicking through the golden fields of wheat, ––––ing underneath the shade of the weeping willow, cupping their hands and drinking from the “stream of vitality,” which flowed softly, yet steadily; its waters of the purest essence known to man. Life in the garden left nothing to be desired, yet the human condition is such that a lack of desire leaves woman and man feeling vaguely dissatisfied and directionless — if the Kingdom has already been obtained, what then is the point of being in the first place? 

So man, unconsciously bothered by this “perfect” nature of the garden, set off to make life less perfect for himself and for woman, because, as stated, man would rather see to it that perfection is an unattainable ideal towards which he can strive, rather than a presently actualized state of being. So man strolled for a while, eventually nearing the outskirts of the garden, where the shadows cast by the towering peaks of the “mountains on high” rendered everything perpetually shady, and where the rivers tumbled down the mountains with that untamable force of nature that elicits utter reverence.

It was here, underneath the garden’s thick canopy, that man encountered serpent. The serpent introduced itself as Steve, though it did not ask for man’s name — it already knew that man was called Adam. The serpent requested that man follow it to a place that contained respite for all of man’s disquietudes, and man, eager to quell the ethereal emptiness which stirred inside of him, obliged the serpent’s request. So they went, and soon arrived at a small clearing, hidden somewhere deep in the forest. In this clearing stood a lone tree, rather small and unremarkable, if not for the fruit which dangled temptingly from its otherwise barren boughs. The fruit was strange, thought man. It resembled an apple, though its shape was almost geometric, and omitted a bright, almost unnatural glow — unnerving, but also alluring. Man stepped closer; the serpent hissed. 

“This is the Tree of Life.”

“No,” replied man. “The Tree of Life is in the center of the garden. I’ve seen it myself.”

“But what kind of fruit does the Tree of Life produce? Mangos? Pomegranate? Olives? Surely those fruits pale in comparison to the fruit which grows from this tree.”

“What is it?” inquired man.

“Plea-s-s-s-s-sure,” hissed the serpent. “Eat of this fruit, and your soul will know only happiness for all the days of your life.”

“I thought happiness didn’t come from fruit?”

“Oh, but this isn’t any fruit,” uttered the serpent. “This is a most s-s-s-s-strange fruit.”

With that, man’s curiosity was piqued — he reached out, took the fruit and ate of it. Immediately upon doing so, man’s mind was transformed; it began to dance with a kind of sick, synthetic delight, for the fruit touched man in ways more pleasing than even the gentle caress of woman and sang out in melodies softer and more harmonious than that of the mourning dove and meadowlark. And all the while, yet satisfied from the nourishment offered by this strange, unnatural fruit, man wanted more. And the serpent was well pleased with its work. 

Upon returning to woman, man offered her a bite; she hesitated, suspecting that this peculiar object man held out before her was fruit from the Tree of Pleasure. But man was convincing; he told her of the wondrous stirrings inside of his soul (but really, his mind) upon taking from the tree, and better yet, he told her of the fruit’s everlasting effect — never did its supply of sensory gratification run out, so long as one continued to satiated oneself. So woman, trusting in her partner — bone of bone and flesh of flesh — took of the fruit, and was unsatisfied and continued to take. 

From that moment onwards, both woman and man lived only for pleasure. Their time once spent frolicking and ––––ing and basking in the glory of the garden was now devoted exclusively to the worship of this most tempting fruit. Soon enough, woman and man forgot that they were in the garden altogether; their gaze transfixed on that dim, beguiling glow; their souls frozen in a state of terminal, unrectifiable hypnosis. For this fruit I speak of was indeed fruit from the Tree of Pleasure, and it vanquished the once-eternal souls of humankind.

Now, you might be asking: what kind of fruit is this, that can spark such spiritual calamity? Well, dear reader, I regret to inform you that you, too, are victim of its seductive properties. You are so hypnotized, in fact, that all this time you’ve spent guessing at what this fruit might be, you failed to realize that you’ve been staring right at it. Don’t believe me? 

Flip over your phone. What do you see?

T.W.