A Field of Boulders
I've been thinking a lot about boulders. You see, 3 weeks ago I cleared my field of its boulders. It took a lot of work.. Then today, I walked outside and found my field littered with boulders again. Boulders impeding on the beauty of my field. It's discouraging to look out and see all these new boulders - I'd worked so hard to get rid of the old ones in a tiresome battle with gravity. It never seems to end..
An old man listened from a tree stump.
Then he told me how it was with boulders.
Them boulders are always gonna plop down in your field, son. It's just the way it is. What you gotta do is quit moping around like a wet mop and get after them boulders with a fire when you see'em. No boulder's too big for a man with a bigger heart.
How do I feel the fire when I see a new boulder? All that I see is a heaviness weighing down on my shoulders, pulling me towards the ground.
It takes practice to shoulder a heavy load. When's the last time you practiced, son?
3 weeks ago..
You gotta practice when your fields full of flowers. When the little brook starts flowin' in the springtime and the butterflies are floatin' around your head and all you can see are pretty colors and glory - you practice. Then, every day, you'll get a little stronger and them boulders will feel a little lighter. Your process will be refined over time. And someday down the road when you're dripping with sweat with a boulder on your back, in the heat of an afternoon sun, you'll find a thing called joy. Yes. Joy. And you'll feel this joy course through your veins and ignite the dormant embers of a fire within you. Mmh, yes.
The sun danced off the sleep on the horizon line of the mountains and illuminated the sky with color. Meanwhile, the old man chewed on a piece of straw with his eyes closed and his leather face creaked into a smile.