Strange bedfellows upon the narrow way

 So what do Larry the Cucumber in Veggitales Sampson's Hairbrush, Indiana Jones from the Last Crusade, and Becky Sharpe from Vanity Fair, a nearly 200 year old, ten thousand page book, have in common (besides being works of imaginitive fiction)?  They are all rather misguided in their search for the meaning of life, yes I know it is commonly held to be 42, but that is also a work of fantastical imagination, but then so is our own reality so I guess that argument won't hold water, but as that is a completely separate blog post, let's stay on target and not go chasing down rabbit trails, no matter how charming!  I've recently been reading the latter while my husband thought the family should watch the classic Indie flick the other day, which triggered memories of the former, thus this mutant hybrid blog post was born, very much like my college English/history class that had us comparing the travails of Rosie the cow from Giants in the Earth to some other minor character in Hamlet or the Odyssey, as you can see, I am well worthy of a BS degree and capable of writing such delightful travesties of prose.

Larry is after Sampson's Hairbrush, thinking it will give the bearer amazing strength, Indie is after the Grail in theory to keep it out of evil hands but probably because it would be a huge archeological find to say nothing of the rumors of eternal life, and Miss Becky thinks pomp and circumstance are the very stuff of life.  All are deluded into thinking some specific thing or goal or achievement will make them happy, pretty much like the rest of us, none of them knowing how close is the Answer, we merely have to reach out and take hold of it.  It isn't the cup of Christ or the brush of Sampson or the adulation of the rich and powerful that give us meaning, hope, strength, and truly eternal life, it is the Author of this tale we call reality, not some cheap gimmick from within our own story.  Our own adventures, strength, luck, charms, and efforts will avail nothing and those who strive after it in their own way reap their own destruction and misery.  The moral of each tale is to grasp at the Thing itself, take the narrow gate and walk upon that scant but faithful trail by which a humble Pilgrim might bypass Vanity Fair and come to Glory Himself, nothing else will avail if you truly wish for peace, hope, comfort, and meaning.