The Pond
The middle-aged man sat staring at the water as it dripped slowly
off the rock. The drop tediously formed, gathered strength and then leapt
off its perch into the small puddle below. The thirsty man looked down at
his little puddle and waited. He knew it would take another 450 drops to
fill the puddle with enough water to deflect his thirst. He had counted
each leaping drop every day, for years, with agony and knew exactly how
many it would take before he would consume the puddle.
You might ask why, why would anyone count the drops, couldn't he
find more water, how did he get there, could he not move on.
The man had grown up thirsty in a desert and knew the depth of
thirst. He had felt it for many years and had somehow stumbled onto this
little water hole.
When he first found it he was overjoyed. He knelt and drank it all
in a few brilliant moments. He even licked the rocks for a while but found
no help in this.
He made camp at the little puddle and decided this was enough. He
had enough water to exist, his small frame could survive on a meager
ration, he had learned not to ask for more, but to accept what was offered.
He would allow no other noises or sights to distract him but spent his
waking moments watching the drops leap into the puddle. He was focused on
his survival.
On rare occasions, when it was quiet, just after he drank his
supply, he would sit back and relax for a brief moment. He would close his
eyes and enjoy the fleeting pleasure. He thought he heard sounds of others
just over the hill, laughing, enjoying life, one time he even thought he
heard the sound of water splashing, but he quickly put the cruel illusions
out of his mind and focused again on this existence. He could not afford
such luxurious thoughts.
There were times when he was upset at his meager rations, he would
break into a wild thought that he could bath, even swim in a large pool of
water and actually enjoy it with others. The loud sound of a drip quickly
brought him back to reality.
One time he even looked at the hill and stood to his feet to walk
over it. Was there more to life? He took one step and then suddenly felt a
breeze blowing, and that was as far as he got. The wind sometimes blew sand
in the water and he was afraid the water hole would be filled with sand and
he would lose a drink. He could not leave his precious existence in pursuit
of this luxury called life. The risk was too great.
Yet if you took a walk from where this poor soul lived, over one
hill and around a bend you could find a river running deep and wide. Many
came and bathed in it. It gave freely of its bounty to all who would come.
Matt Rawlins )
Depending on the group and the purpose of the time together I might ask:
How could this story be seen from the perspective of learning?
What were key elements this man needed in his life to add greater depth and
wholeness to himself?
Are there areas in your life where you can identify with this man?
What are the key elements you need in your life to be able to help you go
beyond where you are now and to find more in life?
I would enjoy any comments on the story.
--Learning-org -- An Internet Dialog on Learning Organizations For info: <rkarash@karash.com> -or- <http://world.std.com/~lo/>