The Allegory of the Well

Once upon a time, a lot of folks were thirsty.

Part I
Thirst Quencher Is Made of Pine Cones and Water

One day, a thirsty traveler came upon an old well. Although he had never seen a well before, he lowered the bucket creaking down over a rusty wheel and hauled up the bucket full with 2 parts pine cones and 3 parts water. He put some of the pine cones mixed with water into his mouth. The pine cones were crunchy. They hurt the roof of his mouth and made him bleed, but this water and pine cone mixture quenched his thirst, and that was all that mattered to him. He carried his pine cone and water concoction home with him and shared it with everyone in his village. Their thirst was quenched. The greatest minds in the village studied the stuff, and determined that something very much like it could be made from rain that fell from the sky, and pine cones that fell from trees in the forest. Although the villagers' eyes watered and their mouths bled from the pain of the pine cones, they were grateful beyond words for the thirst quencher, and they shared this beloved recipe generation after generation in their village.

Part II
Thirst Quencher Is Made of Dirt and Water

On another day, a thirsty traveler from another village came upon the same old well. He sent the bucket down into the well and pulled up a bucket full with 3 parts water and 1 part dirt. He put some of the dirt mixed with water into his mouth. The dirt sat in his gut like, um... dirt, but this water and dirt mixture quenched his thirst, and that was all that mattered to him. He carried his dirt and water concoction home with him and shared it with everyone in his village. Their thirst was quenched. The greatest minds in the village studied the stuff, and determined that something very much like it could be made by scooping water out of a nearby river, and mixing it with some of the ample dirt that was lying around everywhere. Although the villagers were constipated and they hated the taste of dirt, they were grateful beyond words for the thirst quencher, and they shared this beloved recipe generation after generation in their village.

Part III
Thirst Quencher Is Made of Tattered Cloth and Water

On another day, a thirsty traveler from a third village came upon the same old well as the first two travelers. He sent the bucket down into the well and pulled up 5 parts water and 1 part tattered cloth. He put some of the tattered cloth mixed with water into his mouth. The tattered cloth made him wretch, but it was not impossible to swallow it down. The cloth and water mixture quenched his thirst, and that was all that mattered to him. He carried his cloth and water concoction home with him and shared it with everyone in his village. Their thirst was quenched. The greatest minds in the village studied the stuff, and determined that something very much like it could be made from water that collected in a pool near the village if they would only soak some of their tattered old clothes in it for a very long time. Although it was hard to swallow, the villagers were grateful beyond words for the thirst quencher, and they shared this beloved recipe generation after generation in their village.

Part IV
The Fourth Traveler

On another day, a thirsty traveler from a fourth village came upon the same well. He sent the bucket down into the well and pulled up 2 parts water, 1 part old tattered cloth, 1 part dirt, and a few pine cones. Because this traveler came from a village that had a spring where clear, fresh water that was good to drink burbled constantly up from deep in the ground, he picked the pine cones from the top of the water and threw them away. He pulled a piece of cloth from the bucket and used it as a strainer. Then, he poured the water and dirt mixture through the cloth strainer, and drank the pure water.

The Well's Story

Thousands of years earlier, a lot of folks were thirsty.

One day, a traveler from a village that had a spring where clear, fresh water that was good to drink burbled constantly up from deep in the ground came to a village where there was no spring, and everyone was thirsty. He reasoned that water came from deep in the ground, and encouraged the villagers to dig with him. That was how the well came to be.

For many generations, people from the village got water from that well. Over time, the people who remembered the story of the stranger who taught them how to dig down into the earth for water died off, and generation after generation of people knew that water came from wells. One day a traveler from the village with the well came to a village where people were thirsty. He told the villagers about the well, and they were amazed. A few strong men made the journey to the well and carried water back to their village. Word of the well spread from village to village and for many generations people from far, distant villages traveled, sometimes perilously, to pull precious water from the well.

Time passed. Things changed. Villages crumbled, and the knowledge of where the well was was lost. The knowledge of what a well was was lost. One day, a thirsty traveler mistook the well for a garbage dump. He had some clothes he couldn't carry any further, so weary and thirsty was he, and he threw them into the well. Over time, dirt crumbled from the old well's walls and was mixed with the water. Strong winds occasionally blew pine cones from the forest into the well. Then, one day, after decades without use, a thirsty traveler happened by. He sent the bucket down into the well, and pulled up water mixed with pine cones...

We Care

Does this seem odd to anyone but me? The universe is the source of life. The Sun provides all the energy for life on Earth as we know it. But we do not conceive of the Sun caring about life. That great big giving machine in the sky just pumps out light and warmth and life, constantly, but we don't feel loved by the Sun.

We want to feel loved consciously through free will. I know I do. Oh, do I! So, with the Sun as my model, I am starting the loving revolution. Through my free will I will love life consciously, asking nothing in return. Join me! Let's be the change we want to see in the world, as Gandhi taught. Love life! Whatever your life is, at this moment, care about that. It's the caring revolution. Feeding the cat? Care! Vacuuming? Care about that. Walking? Care! Paying the bills? Care! Care! Care! Do it even if it annoys middle management, the one in the office, or the one in your mind. It's on baby! This is the revolution. Viva la revolucion.

All One

Rocks, Cars, Shoes, Teeth
The hardness of things,
All One.

Coral becoming teeth becoming coral again.

Oceans, Rivers, Rain, Blood
The flowing of things,
All One.

Water becoming blood becoming water again.

Energy, Light, Heat, Desire
The fire in things,
All One.

Energy becoming desire becoming energy again.

Sky, Vapor, Gas, Breath
The life of things,
All One.

Air becoming breath becoming air again.

Dot, Plane, Interior, Dimensions
The place for things,
All One.

Singularity becoming dimensions becoming singularity again.

Void, Word, Vibration, Creation
The making of things,
All One.

Nothing becoming creation becoming nothing again.

Peace.

Chakrasana

Chakrasana

Now I create this body from rocks and rivers and stars.
Now it moves and breathes in time.

The air we share is our life.

Now I return this body to rocks and rivers and stars.
Now I remain as I am, All This.

Let Us Hold Hands

Let's all hold hands. The people who love Jesus with the people who love Buddha. The people who follow Vishnu with the people who follow the Tao. Let Atheists hold hands with Hasidim. Let the followers of Allah fast at Ramadan while holding hands with Wiccans. Let's hold hands respecting each other's humanness. Yogis and Sufis and people who meet in Longhouses. Agnostics and Catholics and Mauris following their ancient ways. If we are holding hands, we do not have to agree at all. I love the Jesus lover's love of Jesus. Let him love. I love the Siva lover's love of Siva. Let him love. Let the minds in our circle disagree, who cares? But don't let go. "Oh, my beloved brother, your ways are wrong!" Think it! Who cares? But don't let go. Let's stop trying to change each other. And when the end comes, don't let go. Let us go holding hands. Loving each other, let us go. And the one who is holding the key to heaven, open the gate, and don't let go. And the one who recognizes the path, lead the way, but don't let go. And the God who will not take us all together as one? Will we want that God? Or will we laugh together, holding hands and loving the expression on each precious face, perfectly content? Until we find the God who likes us all together as One.

Why Do I Teach Yoga?

I teach yoga to be the aliveness instead of the thingness.

The Little Bird

One of the most inspiring stories I have ever heard is the Buddhist tale, The Little Bird. I have retold this tale in my book in progress, Journal Workbook for Finding Peace Within (It's a working title.). I have a question for anyone who would comment. Many tellings end with a god being moved to bring the rain by the little bird's actions. I removed "god" from this retelling. Do you think it is still warm with that caring consciousness when told this way? Click on "comments" below to share your view.

The Little Bird

Once there was a little bird whose nest was high in the treetops of a beautiful, living forest. On a clear, blue morning the little bird awoke to a sense of panic all around. The forest was on fire. Looking down, he saw his four-legged, six-legged, and many-legged friends running away from the flames. Looking up, he saw all the birds of the forest flying in fear in every direction.

The little bird flew high above the forest. He saw that the flames were coming much faster than many of his friends could flee. To the west was a river. Quick as he could, he went to retrieve water. “Come with me,” he cried to the other birds, who were flying away from the dangerous heat. “Help me put out this terrible fire. See how our friends are suffering below in the forest.” The little bird filled his beak and began to fly back to the fire.

“Turn around, little bird,” the other birds pleaded. “You are flying into harm’s way.”

The little bird shook his head. He flew so hard that his wings ached. Below him the fire licked the heels of a family of deer. He opened his beak and dropped the water. His beak was so small that the little drop of water it held fell glinting in the sunlight only to evaporate in the fire’s rising heat. The little bird did not notice. He was already half way back to the river.

This time, he filled his beak and dipped his feathers in the river. The water made his wings heavy, but he flew back to the forest where so many of his friends had no means of escape. He opened his beak and shook his wings. Still, not a drop reached the fire below. Back and forth the little bird flew from the river to the forest fire.

His wings were scorched, his eyes watered from the smoke, his muscles ached, and his tiny lungs burned. Now, standing alone at the river, he gathered the last of his strength to make the journey back to the fire. The little bird did not notice the rain clouds gathering behind him. This time, as the little bird flew, silently, rain clouds followed. And back at the forest, just as the little bird shook his wings over the fire, the clouds burst open, and it began to rain. Tiny drops from the little bird’s wings fell with giant raindrops from the life-saving clouds. Rivulets traveled sizzling down tree trunks, and rolled across the scorched forest floor extinguishing every spark of the forest fire.

The little bird flew into the cloud to see who had saved the forest. But the cloud was heavy; it was hard to see, and wherever he flew, it seemed it was he alone.

Bird photo by Rob Palmer.