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sadness.
    “Tell me, Jacob. Is this it?” He motioned around the room. “Is there nothing more? We become attached to this life only to be torn from it like some crude joke in the stars.”
    “We make life not only crude but cold,” said Jacob, “by dressing ourselves in a nakedness woven from our own ignorance.”
    Then Mr. Gold spoke again from behind his sadness. “It doesn’t make sense,” he said. “Our days amount to nothing!”
    Jacob’s eyes listened without arguing or agreeing. He thought of the pain festering in Mr. Gold’s words.
    When Jacob spoke, his voice unfolded with the attitude of a man not filled with knowing but caring.
    “Mr. Gold, all passes, nothing stops. Our days do amount to nothing, but that is because we are not a collection. We are a process.
    “The truth about the seasons is that the seasons change. While everything appears to live and die, it is only the appearance of things which lives and dies. The dead are buried. Their memory is not.”
    Mr. Gold’s voice considered Jacob’s words.
    “You know, Jacob, you are wise, and I am old.”
    “Then you already know, Mr. Gold, that the roots of time hold both memory and promise.”
    “Will you remember me, Jacob?”
    “I promise, one day, I will join you, Mr. Gold.”
    Mr. Gold’s laughter sounded like a trumpet and brought light to the corners of the room.
    Then the silence regained its balance, and the two men sat there, making music from the quiet between their notes.
    It was Mr. Gold who counted time and eventually spoke first.
    “Jacob, where do you find the strength to carry on in life?”
    “Life is often heavy only because we attempt to carry it,” said Jacob. “But, I do find a strength in the ashes.”
    “In the ashes?” asked Mr. Gold.
    “Yes,” said Jacob, with a confirmation that seemed to have traveled a great distance.
    “You see, Mr. Gold, each of us is alone. Each of us is in the great darkness of our ignorance. And, each of us is on a journey.
    “In the process of our journey, we must bend to build a fire for light, and warmth, and food.
    “But when our fingers tear at the ground, hoping to find the coals of another’s fire, what we often find are the ashes.
    “And, in these ashes, which will not give us light or warmth, there may be sadness, but there is also testimony.
    “Because these ashes tell us that somebody else has been in the night, somebody else has bent to build a fire, and somebody else has carried on.
    “And that can be enough, sometimes.
    “And that can be enough.”

About the Author
    Noah benShea is one of North America’s most respected and beloved poet-philosophers, and a source of strength to millions around the world. He is the international best-selling author of 23 books translated into 18 languages, including the famed Jacob the Baker series. He has spoken and taught at the best universities; served as a Dean at UCLA, visiting lecturer at MIT and The Fuqua Graduate Business School at Duke University, guest professor of Philosophy at the University of California, San Francisco Medical School, and a Fellow at several long range think tanks including USC’s Center for the Humanities, and the esteemed Center for the Study of Democratic Institutions.
    A highly sought after public speaker, he is also a private advisor to corporate and political leaders, serves as an Ethicist for the The Sansum Diabetes Research Institute, was nominated for the Grawemeyer Award for Ideas that Improve the World Order, and in 2007 his work in Russian translation won 1st Prize at the European Intellectual Book Fair in Moscow. Noah benShea is also the National Laureate for the ALS Association. He is has been the subject of a national PBS special, and is also the Executive Director of THE JUSTICE PROJECT.