Eyes of Compassion.
I have recently been thinking about my dog, and running companion. I have lately been imagining having him at my side again as we go stavaging through forests and woodland.
He was a wonderful running companion and a great friend to go walking with. Why? I hear you ask. Simple he just came along and was happy to be there no matter what i said he agreed with me and was always so grateful to be there.
So there i was this morning in the beautiful sun strolling along and dreaming of his presence with me.
Now I am aware that this is a dream that will never come to fruition, and please do not suggest that I go and give a home to another. it is just not going to happen. I have to accept that having a dog involves a lot of extra cleaning and housework and I know that I am worse than useless at that. So a dream that will never be, but it does bring some very pleasant happy memories and happy moments in the here and now, and I rejoice.
I was thinking about me and my dreams and remembered the tale of the dreamer.
Along time ago there lived an extremely lazy and because he was lazy also extremely poor man. The thought of hard work brought shivers down his spine, and yet he did all the time dream of one day being rich.
He got what food and needs provided by begging on the streets.
One day while begging he was given a pot of milk. He returned to his place of abode and boiled the milk and made himself a warming drink. The remaining milk he put in a large galvanised pot and added some curds to it. This would given time convert the remaining milk to curds. He then lay down to do what he was best at, sleeping and dreaming.
As he lay there his thoughts turned to the pot of curd.
He dreamed that if he could become rich all his miseries would be over . He thought that by next morning the milk he had left would be set and turn to curds, He dreamt that he could churn the curds and make butter from it. He would then heat it gently and make it into ghee which he would take to the market and sell.
He then dreamt on thinking with the money he would buy a hen. The hen would lay eggs which he could hatch and soon he would be the owner of a number of hens. These hens in turn would all lay eggs and soon he would be the proud owner of a poultry farm.
He dreamt on.
I will sell the hens and with the money buy some cows, and then I will open a dairy. All the local people would come to him to purchase his quality milk. With money he was earning he would go on to purchase precious jewels, these he would sell to the rich at a profit.
Soon he would be rich and he would find a beautiful girl to marry Soon he dreamt, he would have a very handsome son and he would teach his son discipline and respect and set him to work. If his son became disobedient he would beat him with a stick.
As he dreamt , he without thought picked up a stick and began waving it about still dreaming of his handsome son. He was awakened by the sound of the stick cracking against the pot next to where he was laying. There he saw it the broken pot and the milk and curds in the dust and mire of the floor he never cleaned.
It is just a simple fact of life that without putting your hand to the tiller nothing will ever be achieved. Dreams are wonderful things to enjoy but nothing can be built on dreams.
I am off and no doubt will find myself dreaming of one day painting that one masterpiece that I will be proud of and feel I have accomplished. of course before that I will need to put in the practice and the work to bring that about.
Have a marvellous day. I am fuming the song, daydreamer.