The river, starting its journey from a source in the distant mountains, passing through the most diverse views and landscapes of the countryside, finally reached the sands of the desert. Just as it overcame all obstacles, the river tried to overcome this one, but soon became convinced that as it moved deeper into the sands, there was less and less water left in it. And although there was no doubt that her path lay through the desert, the situation seemed hopeless. But suddenly a mysterious voice, coming from the desert itself, whispered: “The wind crosses the desert, and the stream can do it.” The river immediately objected that it only rushes about in the sand and is only absorbed, but the wind can fly, and that is why it costs him nothing to cross the desert.
“You won’t be able to cross the desert using the usual tried and tested methods.” You will either disappear or turn into a swamp. You must allow the wind to carry you to your destination.
- But how can this happen?
“Only if you allow the wind to consume you.”
This proposal was unacceptable to the river. After all, no one has ever absorbed it. Yes, she had no intention of losing her individuality. After all, having lost her once, how can she get her back again?
“The wind,” the sand continued, “is exactly what it does.” He picks up the water, carries it over the desert and then lets it fall again. Falling as rain, the water becomes a river again.
- But how can I check this?
“That’s true, and if you don’t believe it, you won’t be able to become anything other than a musty puddle, even that will take many, many years, and you must admit, this is far from the same as a river.”
- But how can I remain the same river that I am today?
“In neither case will you be able to remain the same,” answered the whisper. - Your main part is transferred and becomes a river again. And you even take your current form of existence for yourself only because you do not know which part of you is essential.
In response to these words, some kind of response stirred in the thoughts of the river. She vaguely remembered the state in which either she, or some part of her, was in - but was that so? — was in the arms of the wind. She also remembered - and did she remember? - that this, although not always obvious, but quite real thing, is doable. And the river soared into the friendly embrace of the wind, which easily and gently picked it up and rushed off into the distance for many, many miles. Having reached the mountain peak, he carefully lowered it down. And because the river had doubts, it was able to remember and imprint in its mind more thoroughly the details of this experience.
“Yes, now I have recognized my true essence,” the river reflected.
The river recognized it, and the sands whispered: “We know this, because day after day this happens before our eyes, since the entire path from the banks of the river to the mountain itself consists of us, the sands.”
This is why it is said that the path that the stream of life should follow is written in the sand.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru