The Rocks

One day a tribe of beings were given a gift. A gift of rocks. Little rocks. Big rocks. Precious rocks. Worthless rocks. Some so beautiful you would have wondered how the givers could part with it. Some so horrible you would wonder why someone would give it to another. So, so many rocks. The tribe was also given a yoke and a couple of buckets to carry their newly acquired rocks.

The givers told the tribe that they knew of a place for the tribe to live. It was quite a trek from here to there. Up a hill. across a wide river. It was a beautiful place. Lush and happy. The tribe decided it was worth the walk. So off they went.

Shortly they came to the hill the givers had told them about. It wasn't a very big hill. It certainly wasn't a very steep hill. The tribe started up the hill. Some of the tribe trotted right up the hill. Some of the tribe quit part way up. Some of the tribe struggled with their rocks.

Eventually one of the tribe set down his yoke. He looked in his buckets. He decided he could drop one of the rocks. Which he did and pick up his yoke but his burden was uneven now. Once more he set down his rocks and picked another rock to drop. This time his yoke was balanced! It was still heavy but manageable. His pace quicken up the hill. Those of the tribe behind him saw what he had done. Some thought,"Why did he drop those rocks? Those were his rocks. I will never drop my rocks! They are my rock and important to me." Still other saw the wisdom of the first's actions and did the same.

In due time, most of the tribe had made it up the hill leaving behind those who decided it was just too hard. The those left behind stayed at the bottom of the hill. Those who had made it up the hill, the ones who had struggled and those who had not, moved on.

They walked and walked. Ever so often some would set down their burdens and drop some rocks. All of a sudden they where at the shore of the river. The river was very wide and not very deep, only about knee high on the average tribe member.

Those of the tribe who had charged up the hill plunged right in to the slow moving water. Crossing the river was a lot harder than climbing the hill. Some of these beings had to stop and lighten their load. When it was time for the being, who had 1st drop his rocks, to enter the water he paused. He considered what the givers had said when they had given the tribe their rocks. They said, "Here these are yours. Here is a yoke to carry them with." They had never told the tribe to take the rocks. They had never said the tribe needed to keep the rocks. They had just said these are yours.

He ponder this for a moment. He knew he wouldn't make it across the river with all of those rocks. So he decided. He went through his rocks. He held them up to the light. He looked at each and every one of them. Some he kept. A lot he dropped. When he reached the bottom of his buckets. He only had a handful or so of rocks to keep. This time he didn't pick up the yoke. He just walked right in and crossed the river passed all the others.

When he got to the other side, it was just a beautiful as the givers said it would be. He was happy. He still had a few of his rocks with him. Little rocks. Big rocks. Precious rocks. Worthless rocks. Some so beautiful you knew why he kept them. Some so horrible you would wonder how he could look at them. But all of the rocks could be carried and all of them were his.