The second argued that the nature of sand was hard and soft. If you hit it, it resists you. If you stroke it carefully, if you scoop it carefully, it is infinitely malleable.
The third argued that its nature was dryness and moistness. Hold it when it is dry, and it falls apart. Moisten it with water, and it becomes like mud.
Two days later the first man said the nature of sand was dry little rocks, all piled together
The second man said that the nature of sand was hard, because it was pitiless.
The third man said he could not remember a sand which was wet, and so dryness must be its essential nature.
Two days later, the first man said the nature of sand is death.
The second man agreed.
The third man agreed.
And they all died.
What they could not see, because they did not look, was that there was a spring on the other side of the hill, with date palms. The moon saw all this, and was not overly concerned, for it knew these men would see sand again, would see the desert again, and would again be offered water and food, for the cost of wandering just a little more.
It pondered, as it wandered off to make way for the sun, that perhaps life is little but water and date palms, and when those are absent, it does not last very long.
Moral: REMEMBER. You know how, but you have forgotten. So have I. I do think, though, that I have remembered that I have forgotten something, and that is a start.
Oh, and if you can explain what I just wrote to me, it would be greatly appreciated. I am not drinking. It is something else.
Actually, since I am being a bit cryptic, I will add that I could parse this story several ways. I can parse/interpret/pull A lesson out of, nearly anything. It’s a skill in itself. The beauty of parables is they make you alert. They can be read multiple ways, and all the ways are true, if they facilitate new insight in you.
For whatever reason I’ve been feeling kinship with the Sufis the past few days. If I might add a nod to Omar Khayyam, I AM drinking wine.