One afternoon, Master Wq was meditating under a pine tree.
He contemplated how easily the wind moves through leaves and
trunks, both moving them and having its course altered by
their presence. A student approached and nervously stood by.
Having finally mustered all the courage she could, the
student said:
"Master Wq, I am troubled by what I have seen."
The Master looked at her face, and she continued:
"I have mastered movement, I have understood macros, I am
familiar with the source and have not touched vimscript. I
have followed your every advice, ruminated on every
teaching. Yet, there is something I cannot understand.
Nowhere in Vim have I found your name. Never has anybody
thanked you in the help pages. How can that be? The greatest
of all Vim masters, unknown to all? In a desperate last try,
I ran :Wq and the terminal screamed at me:
E492: Not an editor command: Wq.
My heart is drowned in doubt, and I am ashamed to admit
that."
Master Wq looked away. After a few moments, he said:
"You think you have committed a great sin. However, the
breeze still follows its path, the leaves make their usual
sound and the sky is no greyer."
As the great master spoke this, with a sharp pebble he wrote
in the dirt:
