The master reached into the water and lifted out a handful of pebbles.
– You see, some of them are worthless, grey and tiny, and some are glittering pearls, bright and precious. At first sight it is a handful of pebbles, but if you look more closely, you will find all sorts of things in it. And yet they are only pebbles, all of them… – and with that he tossed the handful of pebbles back into the stream.
His disciple kept silent; he sensed that he was now being taught, that his master wished to instruct him in something. Such is the teacher's mentality, willing to take on the burdens that come with it: patience, the sharing of wisdom, selfless help, even when it falls on deaf ears. He felt that he too must take on the disciple's mentality: I let myself be instructed, though not by just anyone, but by my master.
– All of life's experience, too, is such a scoop, a handful from the river of the world. Some of it will be precious, some of it base. Do not be surprised by that. But be exacting, take the precious to yourself, and do not mind if a few pretty pebbles slip through your fingers as well. And gladly throw the base back, for there is no need of it at all!
– I can recognise the pebbles of the stream, which are common and which are precious. But will I recognise the pebbles of life as well?
– Providence will guide you, only entrust yourself to it. What you must understand with your reason, I will try to teach you, but it is you who will have to make your way.
– Not long ago I saw you in a dream… You were teaching me, but however hard I tried to pay attention, nothing stayed with me, only the feeling… – said the disciple timidly.
His master kept silent, deeply, pointedly. At such times the air stood still and the moment froze. For a good while his gaze stayed fixed before him, then slowly, very slowly, he raised his eyes to his disciple and spoke, softly but firmly:
– While I am here, pay attention to me. Leave dreams for later, when I am no longer with you.
A heavy silence. The water of the stream tried to babble and gurgle as merrily as before, but the disciple's lightness was gone. He had never even thought about it. He had felt as though his master were an eternal presence in his life. But how true it is that what is still given today may no longer be with him by tomorrow, like the pebbles, a few of which stay in his hand while others slip out of it. Should he snatch at them? Then perhaps he would lose even what he could have kept.
His master dipped his hand into the stream again, reaching in almost to the elbow, turning the stones, feeling them. Little eddies swirled round his arm like ruffles. At last he drew out his arm. In his palm lay a stone of middling size, one that filled the hand, and he looked it over contentedly. He turned it to the right, to the left, upside down, and slowly the stream's water dried from the stone. Finally he held it out:
– Let this be yours. Stones know many things. They have been here a very long time. This one too came from the mountains, knocked against the others, chafed, tumbled, until it came to rest right here. Like a great meeting. Its blade-sharp edges have already been worn away. Keep it!
– This will always remind me of it! Thank you… – the disciple was grateful, for he felt as though his master had carved the teaching of discernment in stone for him. He held this moment to be very precious; it had been worth reaching into this current of life.
– Yes, be grateful! If I can teach you this, both you and I will succeed. By serving your forebears, the sacred institutions and your superiors, you teach and serve those entrusted to you and the sacred institutions yet to come. We are part of a great system of transmission…
– But this world is transient! You have just said that even the dear pebbles will slip out of my hand! – he objected.
– The pretty ones, yes… – the master corrected him – … but love is eternal, service is eternal, the divine plan is eternal. We depart, but the calling stays here. God is never lost, the master is never lost, service is never lost…