As a very humble student of the Tao and it's many profound teachings, the earlier story of the majestic mighty oak brought to mind another story that I read some while back.
With the stress and the strain, not to say the sorrow that accompanies this 'creeping' disease that is Thyroid, because it slowly creeps over us like a shadow blotting out the Sun... there will be times when we question our abilities and our failing capacity to contribute and the worry we bring those that love us..
Reading has always been a Great Escape for me. I love it.... And during my literary journey, I came across this beautiful story. At the time I read it, I was ready to give up as I felt as fragile as a dry twig. When I think of it, it still brings tears to my eyes...
Have a read and judge for yourselves...
There was once an old man, who was so old, it was said that the summers passed, had stopped counting... His hair was so white it matched the snowy peaks. His back was so bent from a lifetime of labour, even the trees looked as though they bowed to him. His skin was old and wrinkled and his nearsightedness made him squint but his ancient face was always ready with a smile.
Every day he would carry water from the river up the steep path to his house. The yoke with the two earthenware jars was heavy but he did not notice for over the years he was used to it. One day, the one jar scolded the other which was cracked. He shamed his companion, telling him how selfish he was and how useless he had become! Was he not aware how hard the effort was for their master to labour under the strain of the heavy yoke, bringing the precious water up so steep a hill?! He was cracked and losing the precious fluid only to disappoint their master when he got home. Saddened and cast down, the cracked jar spoke to the master and expressed his sorrow at no longer being useful, instead he felt he only added to his burden and that it was only fair that the master cast him away and replace him... At this the old man smiled and laughed. He told the cracked jar that he was well aware that while carrying the water it leaked as he climbed the steep path and had noticed it for some time, but he also said, how else would the little flowers beside the path be encouraged to bloom? Looking forward to seeing the beautiful flowers and enjoying their scent helped to distract him from his heavy burden and took his mind off the long steep climb home... Instead he thanked the cracked jar for the joy that the flowers brought him.
The story is simple but very direct.
No matter how little we may feel that we can do, everything we do does in fact matter. It all makes a difference, we all contribute.
Poppy 😿
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